#I'd have like. five days. if I put a limit on it that it can only be. idk. 2500 words. I could do that. I don't know why I'm considering

[musical-chick-13]

Okay, so I wasn't planning on writing anything for this particular Event Day, but like. What if I did.

[orphicsun]

Having an attitude with Abby (Short!)

Warnings: Brat taming, NSFW content, spankings (r! receiving), fingering(r! receiving), pillow princess reader, sub-dom relationship (dom Abby, sub reader), Abby calls reader degrading names, soft sex towards the end, AFAB reader Word Count: 1k

The door was slammed behind you and you quickly moved to sit down onto the bed. You were in some deep shit right now.

You had been mouthing off to Abby all day. You couldn't help but want to be a little bitchy to her. You made sure not to go too far with the attitude, but you laid it on just subtly enough in public that she knew what you were up to.

And that's also how you found yourself laid out across her lap with her hand coming down on your ass.

Smack!

"You better fucking count, you whore. You know you deserved this." She demands of you, and your legs turn to jelly. You thank whatever higher being is out there that she didn't have you standing, because you would immediately collapse.

"O-One!! Abby, please-" You tried to plead because it was more fun to beg for mercy even if you loved her putting you in your place. However, she cut you off with another smack.

"Shut up. Just..shut your damn mouth for five minutes. Take everything I give you. I know you can be a good girl." Her voice is still stern, but there's a warmth to the praise that makes your the coil in your stomach wind up even tighter.

You nod without further complaints, and you endure about four more spanks. Each time, it feels worse and yet the pleasure increases. You didn't know if it was just being in her lap like this, or maybe it was the way she bossed you around. Her hand coming down hard onto your ass cheek while the other hand held you in place by your waist helped, though.

By the time it was over and you had somehow managed to count, you were a tearful wreck on her lap. Abby almost felt bad if it weren't for the flashbacks to your earlier attitude. Usually, she was a big softie with you. She loved you dearly and would hate to be the cause of your tears. But you pushed it much too far. At least now you had learned your lesson.

She rubbed at your ass in a soothing gesture and pulled you up to sit on her lap facing her. That look on your face made her truly melt inside. Your soft, wide eyes staring at her as if she was the only thing in the world, and your hands immediately grabbing onto her sides to get closer with her. Abby forgot how clingy you got after punishments.

"Shh, baby. It's okay. You've learned your lesson. Let me take care of you now. What do you want?" She cooed into your ear, all the previous aggression nowhere to be found.

You sniffled pitifully. You knew you were almost to your limit, but you were still needy. It was hard telling Abby was you craved, but you just needed something vanilla after all the rough treatment.

"I..I want a bath. With you. And I'd like to be touched, too." You mumbled, trying to make yourself heard without having to be too bold about it. Abby smiled and decided to accept the vague words for now, and nodded. She leaned in to kiss your cheek and softly patted your thigh to signal it was time for you to leave her lap.

❀

The warmth of the water mixed with sudsy bubbles soothed you. You were sitting between Abby's thighs, your back pressed against her chest. Two of her fingers were deep inside you, and she was hardly stroking your sensitive inner-walls.

Moments where the two of you could have that slow, mind-blowing sex were the best in your opinion. You loved the rough moments where she'd be choking you with her fake cock sliding in and out of your cunt, or the moments where she'd degrade you and call you her whore, but you always needed to just feel the pleasure she gave you.

She whispered into your ear about how perfect you were and how you took everything she gave you so well. Her thumb rubbed softly over your clit and you were dizzy with all she was offering with just one hand. Her other was groping at your tits, rubbing at them and grazing over your nipples as if you were some type of goddess. She treated you like you were her reason for existing.

Ever so slowly, she'd pick up the pace while taking advantage of your head resting on her shoulder, neck visible to her. She'd mouth at the sensitive skin while keeping a steady pace on your sweet spot and clit. She admired how blissed out you looked, wet tendrils resting over both her skin and yours and your eyes closed with parted lips all kiss swollen from just a few minutes earlier when you made out in the tub. You looked so relaxed and yet so needy at the same time.

When you came, it was one of the most soul-intertwining feelings possible. You truly believed Abby was meant for you. It was hard to focus on the pleasure you were desperately chasing and she was more than happy to supply while also wanting to just think of her, picture her face and tall, muscular frame.

Your soft whimpers filled the bathroom and you finally came down from the heaven she offered you a slice of. She laughed softly when you simply went limp into her arms and she encircled you into an embrace from behind. There was always that softness to her that only you knew.

There was always a softness to Abby that only her attitude-filled girlfriend got, somehow. And you'd probably find a way to get her to pull you over her knee again and get absolutely wrecked, that would never change. However, your current night would end in sweet bedtime kisses and a lotion rub for that sore behind of yours.

[heirofnight]

five more sets

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

based on this request: Can I request something? Could it be Azriel x reader and either you are Illyrian and want to learn to fight or someone who joins the Valkyries and you get to know each other through training ?? Does that make sense?

warnings: talks of alcohol consumption, feeling sick, sexual tension

a/n: this is probably going to end up being a mini-series because i'm loving the dynamic & i'd love to see where i can take this as it progresses! let me know what you think, and thank you for the request <3

you were about three seconds away from throwing a right hook into this male's jaw.

your chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and you were fairly certain that you could fill a bucket with the sweat that was accumulating underneath your training leathers. it was a viciously hot summer day in velaris, and you were really not in the mood to train - especially considering your indulgent night out at rita's that only found you returning home ... four hours ago.

you flickered your eyes up towards him, his wings were flared - your gaze was narrowed, your cheeks were flushed, and you were pissed.

you were hunched over, hands resting on your thighs as you fought to catch your breath.

azriel watched you carefully. he was so composed, as though he could perform this training regime in his sleep. his eyes flashed with amusement at your disheveled and agitated state, and that alone almost actually made you punch him.

"up," he ordered, voice firm, "another five sets of ladder drills," he nodded his chin towards the rope ladder that was spread on the ground in the middle of the training ring. you were meant to sprint across the ladder as quickly as possible, pulling your knees towards your chest as you did so.

you scoffed, standing up straight to place your hands on your hips indignantly.

"listen," you started, unfazed by his stoic demeanor, "i'm hot, i'm exhausted, and i'm still partially drunk," you finished, hoping he'd allow you to just call this entire session off early.

it'd been three weeks since nesta had convinced you to join the valkyries. you'd met her at a bookstore in the rainbow about six months ago, and had become fast friends - bonding over a similar taste in novels, and a very similar no-bullshit attitude. this facet of your personality was coming out to play today, especially as this male continued to push you to your limits when you obviously were not in the best shape.

she'd divulged information about the female clan of warriors that she'd been a part of, and you couldn't help but be interested - but she'd warned that the training regiment would be intense.

"you'll be training with azriel," she'd mentioned before your first session two weeks ago, "good luck," was the only warning she gave before you'd stepped foot into the ring to stand before the largest male you'd ever seen. he was swathed in shadows that rippled from him like smoke, and he assessed you as though he was committing your body to memory.

he then proceeded to put your ass through the wringer, and it seemed like he was having fun doing it.

you continued to watch azriel with a leveled gaze this morning, hoping to the gods that your list of reasons to cut this session short would hit home.

azriel just blinked once, shrugging his broad shoulders, "and?," he grumbled, as though he didn't understand why you'd divulged that information.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to your sides, "and, i'd like to leave now," you sneered, pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

he smirked at your words, but there was minimal humor behind the action.

"no," he stated simply, "we still have another half hour," he continued, nodding back towards the rope ladder once more.

you bristled, annoyed by azriel's utter obsession with pushing your buttons - he'd been thoroughly enjoying riling you up since you became his training partner. he reveled in the reactions you'd give him each time he pushed you to your snapping point.

you turned on your heels and stalked towards the center of the wing, preparing to take on another five sets of this hellish exercise.

you assumed your stance on one end of the ladder, taking a deep breath, and then -

"perhaps you should learn to break the habit of drinking the night before an early training session," he mused, arms crossed across his chest. that stupid smirk had found its way to his full lips again, and if he weren't so annoying, you'd probably find his current stance sexy.

you glowered in his direction, and his smirk only grew. was that a dimple? gods alive.

"perhaps you should mind your own business," you spat, beginning the first set of ladder drills. you huffed, puffed, and your legs felt like they were going to give out beneath you.

azriel watched intently the entire time, and he'd deny it if he were ever asked, but he thought your ass looked delectable in your training leathers.

he cleared his throat, forcing himself to break his less than innocent train of thought.

"knees higher," he commanded, voice steady.

your temper flared but you complied, straightening your form and lifting your knees.

"there you go," he praised, "very good," his voice had lowered marginally, and you felt your cheeks grow even hotter at the sound.

you struggled your way through the last three sets, dizzy and stomach roiling. i'm never drinking again, you cursed to yourself.

you were adamant about ending training now, you didn't care what qualms azriel may have about it. you hobbled towards the black stretching mat, not giving the male even a fraction of a chance to add some other hell-sent workout to this morning's agenda.

az followed, stopping near the edge of the mat to peer down at your exhausted frame.

"that's it then?," he rumbled, huffing out an amused breath through his nose as he observed you.

you covered your eyes with the back of your arm, inhaling deep breaths through your nose. you didn't deign to give him an answer, choosing instead to focus on not spilling the contents of your stomach all over his feet.

he sighed, lowering on his knees before you to assist you with your stretching. he wrapped a firm, scarred hand around your left ankle, pulling your leg straight in order to begin working on your hamstrings.

you groaned, wincing through the pain that was shooting through your legs and lower back. azriel watched intently, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was knelt between your leather-clad legs.

this part was always the hardest for him - the part where he had to divert his attention literally anywhere else to avoid imagining what else he could do to you in positions very similar to this.

your eyes met his form, watching him carefully. the beaming sunlight allowed you to admire the glistening sheen against his golden skin, the freckles smattered across his cheeks and nose. his boyish curls that fell against his forehead and tucked around the nape of his neck.

the light was caressing his skin, almost as if it couldn't help but touch him. you couldn't blame it. azriel was the prettiest male you had ever seen.

he lifted your leg straight, scooting closer to rest your calve against his hard chest. his hips were pressed into your thighs now, and you had to clear your throat to distract yourself from the feeling.

he sensed the tension, and it almost made a smug smile creep across his features, but he refrained.

this was such a common theme between the both of you: he'd annoy you on purpose, you'd react, he'd revel in it. so much tension, and you both knew it. as soon as the both of you were close enough to share the same space, you'd falter, and he'd try his damndest to not do the same.

his hips accidentally jutted against yours as he switched to your right leg, and you'd had to close your eyes to avoid scooting down in order to prolong the contact.

gods, you'd thought to yourself, i'm so fucked.

"you're so tight," he'd mumbled mostly to himself, working his hands against a knot in your leg. your eyes snapped open immediately - you'd pay hefty amounts of gold to hear him utter that phrase again.

and of course, smug-ass azriel knew exactly what he was doing.

a/n: will this end up being a series? probably. i can't help myself. let me know what you think!

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART TEN)

"Hey, Dad," Junior said as I was almost out the door for work. He was still his workout clothes from his morning gym time with Braden.

"Yeah, buddy?" I asked.

I'd been feeling things out with my eldest son since we'd started fooling around. We had Brade's blessing, and about once a week our son joined us in the marital bed. Still, I second guessed myself. It felt right, and yet it didn't.

Only now, Junior... I don't know, he just looked hot as fuck. Self-possessed for a young man his age and yet innocent, emotionally open. A lot like Braden was when I first started up with my son-husband. I was so caught up in taking in his cute-handsome features and jockish looks that it took me a second to notice he was holding a folded piece of paper.

"I wanted to give you this."

I took the paper. "What is it...?"

I started opening it but Junior stopped. "Can you open it later, Dad?" he asked. He seemed embarrassed or something.

"Why?" I wasn't trying to be a bossy father but well maybe I was.

"Please, Dad. Just wait till you get to the office or something."

"All right," I said. stuffing it into my inner suit coat pocket.

I started to lean in for a goodbye kiss, then heard the sound of Evan or maybe Keith's door opening. I gave a shrug. "Rain check?"

Junior smiled. "Yes, sir." I could tell he was enjoying the little secret we had. "Later, Dad."

"Later buddy."

I did as Junior requested and waited until I got to the office. Then I unfolded the paper and read my son's distinctive handwriting.

"DAD'S HOUSE RULES," it read.

Then below were a numbered list.

1. Dad's relationship to Daddy comes first. I'm not here as competition.

2. One-on-one time with my Dad is limited to once a week.

3. Dad and Daddy may invite me to join them. I'll be grateful for that trust each and every time.

4. No displays of affection in front of my brothers, or out in public.

5. School and homework come before sex.

6. I'll never be too old for one of my father's lectures.

I had to chuckle. I'd talked about about some of this with Junior and apologized for lecturing him. This was his way of taking what I'd told him and accepting it, even adding more to the ground rules. I don't think I'd ever been so impressed with Junior and his maturity. I pulled out my phone and dialed him.

"Hey Dad," he said. His voice was nervous.

"Hey kiddo," I said. "I thought I'd catch you before class."

"Just heading to home room now."

"I won't keep you," I said. "I just want you to know that you wrote was perfect, Son."

"Yeah?" I could hear the smile on his face.

"Absolutely. OK if I share this with your Daddy?"

"Of course," he said.

My office door was shut, so I ventured to say, "I love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too, Dad."

I hung up with a proud parental smile on my face. And a rock hard erection in my trousers beneath my desk.

***

I got home early that day, with perfect timing. The twins were down for a nap, and Braden was shirtless in the living room, resting and reading his ipad.

"Hey Dad," he said, looking up in a dreamy relaxation.

"The twins asleep?" I asked quietly.

My son nodded. "Thought they wouldn't ever tire out today. Damn, twins are exhausting."

I felt bad. "We can always take a break on making them a brother," I said. I meant it, too. As much as I wanted another son, real bad, Braden's health and sanity came first.

Brade just grinned and leaned forward on the couch. "I want you to put another set of twins in me, Dad... triplets even."

Goddamn, my husband knew how to turn me on, and I knew that even if he meant every word, he was saying it get me going. Indeed he had a smirk as he reached forward and felt up my trousers to paw at the hardon forming in the crotch. "I love making my father hard," he said softly.

Brade and I got off on sex in the living room or the common areas of the house, since with five boys we didn't have much chance. "You always do, Son. You've given me so many boners." Already I was unzipping, and reaching into work out my cock. I took another second to guide my underwear fully tucked beneath the balls, allowing my excited genitals to stick out fully for Brade's appraisal.

My hunky son-husband felt up that erection, taking his time and barely moving his eyes from my dick. "I know you don't think I mean it, Dad, but I'll start taking those fertility pills if it gives us multiples." The Fiedlers had mentioned their luck with those pills. Indeed, Adam Fiedler at 78, was now pregnant with his boyfriend-son's kid.

I croaked out a half-formed word of approval, even as Brade started taking my cock into his mouth. I placed my hands on my hips and looked down, watching in pride at how good he was at this. I had the best fucking husband in the world.

Braden started sucking nice and slow, sensually making love to my dick with his mouth, until he worked more of my meat into the back of his throat and gullet with each bob. He wasn't gonna get me off, not yet, but he damn well could have once he decided to.

But he pulled off and gave my dick an adminiring gaze. "Is Junior getting better at sucking you?" he asked.

"Some, yeah," I replied. It felt kinky as hell to talk about our son in the middle of sex. "He's certainly giving it his all."

Now Brade's eyes flashed up to meet mine. "I bet. I felt it was like a year of sucking you before I got my technique down."

"I loved every minute, you know that son." I about guided his head back to take care of me again, but I had a better idea. I pulled Junior's note from my inner suit pocket and handed it to Brade. "Here... read this."

My son looked at me with a bemused surprise but took the folded paper and opened it to read. As he did, I slowly stripped off, folding my suit jacket over a spare chair, slipping off my tie, and unbuttoning my dress shirt.

"God," Braden said. "We raised a good kid, Dad."

"That we did," I smiled. "I got so hard reading that," I admitted.

"I bet," Braden said. "I'm leaking now." He leaned back and spread his legs and indeed I could see a big wet spot on his shorts where the tip of his dick rode up the thin fabric. "You gotta take him on a date night, Dad. A real one."

I knew what Braden meant. So far "date night" meant just sex with Junior. An hour or less stolen away for private time to explore with my eldest. Usually after a weekend golf outing. But this... the idea made my cock jerk. "What would you think of that, Braden?"

He looked at me with lust and a good dose of trust. "You know what I think, Dad. I think every son in the world should have the chance to have date night with his father."

I reached down and pulled him up. Brade knew what I wanted anyway and was standing up to meet me. We kissed passionately, a mix of romance and sexual desire.

"I still get so turned on thinking of our first one," I muttered finally.

"Yeah... me dropping my prom date off and you taking me out for late night Chinese. Me in my tux, you in your sport coat." He laughed.

"And a hotel room after," I reminded him.

"And that hotel room after... Fuck," Braden growled. He was undoing my belt now, and could surely feel the leaky tip of my cock against the back of his hands. "I definitely want that for Junior. And for any of our sons who want that."

That idea was there, but it was the first time either of us had said it. My prick jerked against Braden's hands, as he shucked down my trousers.

"You think our boys are gonna grow up to be Daddy's boys?" I growled.

Braden looked at me with this intense look of lust. "Maybe not like Junior... but yeah I do, Dad. Dr. Mark thinks that incest desire is genetic but even if it's not... you're just a stud of a Dad. They're gonna go for you."

This was Braden-style sex talk. Wild and out there, pushing my buttons. I didn't care that it was crazy fantasy, I was gonna fuck with this idea in my head. I now peeled Braden's shorts down. "I fucking love being a father, Braden," I hissed. It was a simple and silly thing to say, but it turned Brade the fuck on.

He kicked off his shorts and stepped back to sit on the couch, leaning back into the cushion and raising his legs, spreading them for me to see his furry trench and regularly used pucker which still had some appealing snugness despite our years for sex life together. His dick was hard against his crunched abs and I could see the fullness in his still milk-producing pecs.

"Lube's on the end table," he said.

I gestured to the hall behind me. "The twins OK?" I asked. I mean, they were asleep but our fucks had been interrupted by cries down the hall before.

"Yeah, Dad, but hurry..."

I nodded as I slicked up and got in place. The entry was quick, but Brade adjusted. I think reading Junior's note, then our expanding sex talk, had him in heat.

"Fuck you feel good, Son," I hissed, powering more cock inside his warm guts.

"Fuck me, Dad. Like that... You make me fall in love again with you every single time."

I was getting real into this, and between the priming BJ and sex talk, I wasn't gonna last long today. I got more physical, not hard, but definitely faster and more urgent in my thrusts.

"I wanna knock you up, Brade. Again. And again." Ok, this was my crazy fantasy getting the best of me.

"Triplets? Multiples?" Braden asked, his voice getting soft in lust.

"If you let me Brade, then, yeah." I was fucking harder.

"I'll let you, Dad. Get those pills from Fiedler. Pop them right in front of you to turn you on."

"Goddamn," I hissed. I was THIS close to cumming and trying not to be loud.

"Make you a bunch of new son boyfriends," Braden grunted.

That did it. My body clenched and I went into full-body orgasm. Face flushed, muscled tensed, cock pumping a heavy load into my eldest son. Braden gave a couple of tugs and his own prick fired off.

We uncoupled and kissed softly.

"Thank you, Son," I said, feeling up my son's hunky chest and nuzzling my face against his cheek. I was a little embarrassed for where the fantasy had gone, but instinctively I knew Braden was there for every bit of it.

"That was hot for me, too, Dad. Jesus."

"How much of that was sex talk, Son?" I asked. Brade and I had a way of letting our imaginations run away from us during sex.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Not all of it. We'll figure it out, OK, Dad?"

"Yeah," I said. I gave his chest one more pat. "I'm going to take Junior on a date... this weekend if we can come up with an excuse to the other boys."

"I'll work on that, Dad," Braden said, getting into the co-conspirator mode.

I looked at my watch. "Speaking of... time to pick up the boys," I said. "I'll get cleaned off." This was our division of labor lately. Braden looking after the twins and starting dinner while I did pick up duty for Evan and Keith.

It was a good arrangement, only now I hated to see Braden pick up his shorts and cover that amazing muscle ass.

***

Around 9 o clock that night, I gave a gentle knock. Junior was doing his calculus homework. But he cracked a huge smile when he saw me. There had been a lot of eye contact and knowing smiles over the dinner table, but we hadn't had a chance to talk about his note. The House Rules.

"Hey dad," he said. God, he looked amazing in his knit polo and golf shorts, barefoot on the bed. Tall and hunky as he was lanky. He was so much like Braden and yet a reflection of me, too. The best of both, I thought, humbly.

I shut the door behind me. "I wanted to talk about those House Rules," I said as I stepped up to the bed.

He looked up at me with that crushed out look I was only now beginning to recognize. Leave it to Braden to catch on to Junior's infatuation with me first. "Did I leave something off, Dad?" he asked, eager and innocent.

I reached forward to squeeze his shoulder muscle. "Not a damn thing, kiddo. I just figured I'd let you know what I thought of what you wrote." With that I leaned forward and kissed my son. A peck, until Junior got the picture and opened his mouth for a fuller French kiss.

"God, Dad..." Junior said. "That's fucking nice." Bill Jr was still very much enjoying the freedom to curse around me.

"I'll say, buddy." I massaged behind his hear. He was so cute, just on the cusp of college but already grown up in so many ways. "I don't want to disturb your homework," I said, in a tone that said I very much did.

"I'll get it done," Junior said quietly. He was horny and emotional. I had to remember he was swimming in a crazy amount of teenage hormones.

"House rule number 5?" I asked with a stern poker face.

That made Junior laugh. "House rule number 5."

I nodded. Proud. "What do you think of a date night Saturday?"

"You know I always love that, Dad."

My fingers went down to tease along his neck. "I meant a real date, Junior. Dinner, maybe a hotel stay after."

Junior's eyes lit up. "For real, Dad?... God.... what about Daddy?"

"It was your Daddy's idea," I assured him. "But I very much would be honored if you'd be my date this weekend."

"Do I gotta dress up?" Junior teased me.

"You gotta dress up," I answered in my best paternal voice.

That thrilled him, only he got a worried look. "What about Rule Number 4?" The one about no affection in front of his brothers.

"Your Daddy and I are working on that."

"In that case... I'd fucking honored to be your date, Dad."

I gave him a soft kiss. Junior was becoming a really good kisser. I looked forward to giving him some more lessons on Saturday night.

"What do you think of a down payment, Son?" I asked.

He nodded, dumbly. Maybe one of these days we'd get to the point where Junior didn't patiently wait for me to initiate sex, but for now we had to manage this new thing. Which meant Dad calling the shots.

I gave him a loving grin and reached down to undo his shorts. "You've grown up to be a big boy," I said.

"No bigger than you," Junior replied, daring to reach forward to paw at my sweat pants, which were fully tented up now. I'd fucked Brade earlier but my libido was firing on all cylinders lately.

"Strip, Son," I hissed, taking the initiative to clear the calculus books off his bed.

Junior couldn't take off his clothes fast enough. He was sometimes self conscious about his body, worried he didn't have the muscle of his Daddy, but now that he saw how much I was into his youthful bulk, he enjoyed showing it to me.

I kissed along his leg, working up from the calf to the inner thigh.

"What are we gonna do on Saturday... sexually?" he asked.

"A surprise," I said. "But I want you to think about what you'd like to do with me, OK?"

"Hell, yes," my son said. Then "FUCK!" he cried as I started to go down on him.

I pulled off and clamped my hand over his mouth. The mansion was spacious but his brothers' room was nearby.

I felt Junior lick my hand, which was a sexual neediness I didn't expect. For some reason that turned me on like crazy. I leaned up and pushed down my sweats, showing off my dad cock.

Junior didn't need me to guide him. Horned up, he dove forward and started licking me. I thought of Braden's question early. Our son wasn't nearly so skilled at sucking, but I got off on his enthusiasm. He worked three and then four inches in steady up and down motion.

I finally pulled him off and claimed another kiss.

"Why don't we jerk off, kiddo? I wanna kiss my son while we cum."

"Hell, yes, Dad."

So that's what we did. Our naked bodies settling in side by side on his double bed. Father and son, stroking and making out, our spare hand feeling up each other's nakedness.

"Dad...." Junior hissed as he got close.

"Let it go, buddy... let me see that big boy load of yours." I patted his chest, much like I'd patted Brade's earlier that afternoon.

Junior held on tight to me as he gave it up. Ten heavy shots of Drake sperm covered us both. I growled my approval and met him for a deep kiss, while I stroked out a healthy amount of cum to mix with his.

We caught our breaths and smiled at each other as we came down from our orgasms. "God fucking damn, Dad... I didn't know that would be so hot."

I nodded. "Just wait till Saturday."

That made Junior laugh. "I don't think I can, Dad."

I patted his arm. "I'm serious about what I said. I want you to think about what you'd love to do with me."

"Anything?" he asked. Clearly excited by that prospect.

I shook my head. "I can't say I'll be open to anything, but we should feel free to talk man-to-man."

"Like you and Daddy do?"

"You your Daddy and I did when he was your age. OK?"

"Yes, sir."

Junior's new room had an attached bathroom and we both had big grins as we showered off, kissing some and making out some.

We were still a little giddy as we dried off and slipped on our clothes again.

"That gonna last you till Saturday, kiddo?" I finally asked softly.

"No," he said with a laugh. "Seriously, Dad. You made my week."

"We'll make it an even better weekend."

I checked on Evan and then Keith and made sure they were getting ready for bed. The twins were already put to sleep so when I made it back to my room Braden was there, watching TV in bed, shirtless and if I knew him, naked.

I didn't have to explain what had just happened. My husband intuitively knew.

"I told you he'd love the idea, Dad," Brade said.

I peeled off my T-shirt and took off my sweats. My dick was soft but I loved the way Braden watched it.

"If you're too spent for sex tonight, that's OK," he said. Understanding, and maybe a little turned on by the fact that I was fooling around with Junior.

"Just give me a little recovery time, OK, buddy?" I asked, getting underneath the covers and snuggling up to my eldest son and feeling the firmer, harder nakedness. He was rock hard against me as we pulled each other into a kiss.

"Dad..." Brade finally said. Like he was going to admonish me. Or ask me for something I didn't want to hear.

"What buddy?" I asked.

His hands ran along my naked back. "Can you talk to Fiedler about getting those pills? Like this weekend?"

That did it, my dick was firming up now. "In a rush, are we?" I winked.

Braden smiled and nodded. "Dad, it's been about two years... I want your kid in me again."

I gave him a deep kiss and rolled over on top of him. Braden clung to me needily, wrapping his legs around me. For all that I was loving the new connection I had with Junior, my husband gave me this pure sexual need that was deeper and different.

I humped against him and we made out until I had an idea. It wasn't quite 10 o clock, not too late. I reached over for my phone and while Braden looked on at me with confusion, I called Dr. Fiedler.

"Todd... it's Bill," I said. "No... everything good. We're all set for Saturday... I'm just... " I looked at Braden while I talked to the doctor. "I want to see if you could prescribe us those fertility pills... the stronger dose... I'll have Braden pick up the scrip tomorrow... yeah, thanks a bunch, man. See you at the club... Yeah, good night."

By the time I set down the phone again, I was rock hard. I kissed Braden and using the lube he'd already applied down there, I entered him. Imagining how amazing it would be to make son number seven.

[luveline]

maybe a reader and roan centered ficlet where roan gets to go to readers work for the day, be like her mini assistant because eddie couldn’t find anyone else to watch her while he had to do something?

ty for requesting ♡ fem reader

The phone rings at exactly 2PM as previously discussed. 

"Ro! Quick, come answer the phone for me, baby." 

Roan climbs out from under your desk where she's sorting paperclips into cuteness piles, the skirt of her best blue dress brushing your calves, her hair in a slicked back bun but coming undone as the day goes on. "What do I say?" she asks.

You pull her onto your lap. "You say, Hi, I'm Roan Munson with Cora Enterprise Limited, how may I help you?" 

She squares her features into a fierce, determined glare. Picking up your heavy grey phone, she presses her lips to the receiver and says, "Hi, I'm Roan! How can I help you, Cora?" 

Her eyebrows pinch together before smoothing, elation quick to take. "Daddy!" 

You can't hear what Eddie's saying, but you imagine it to be like, Hey, pumpkin, you sound so grown up! How's working for a mindless conglomerate as another cog in the machine working out for you? 

"It's fun." Roan tips her head back to look at you. When your gazes connect, she wiggles her thin brows. "She's fine, dad. We're having fun without you." 

Passionate garbled talk from the other side. Roan giggles and leans further into your chest, seemingly pleased when you wrap your arms around her stomach. 

"I learned how to do the printer, and the managing, but they wouldn't let me in the lab 'cos you picked shoes with cut outs. Yes, I know I asked for them, dad." Roan hands you the phone with an expression beyond her years. "He wants to talk to you." 

"Thanks, babe." You bring the phone to your ear. "Hello, Y/N speaking."

"Hello," Eddie says, his voice warm as usual, the sound like laying under the sun on a cloudless day. "Is she behaving?"

"She's being awesome. I told you, you don't have to worry about it. I'm practically alone in my office with Mel on maternity leave and Jessica trying to impress the Swedes." You stop Roan's little hand where it tries to open your top drawer, worried about the box cutter you use to unseal samples. "She's literally no fuss. I'd have her here every day if they let me." 

Roan gasps like this is the very best idea in the world and nods at you until her head looks like it's going to fall off. 

"They might have to. I can't believe it's day four of no water at the elementary. We're lucky you could take her, what are the parents who work jobs like me supposed to do?" he asks. 

"Maybe I can have them all here. Roan's a good assistant for a six year old. In fact, she's doing a better job than I was on my first day. Right, bubby?" you ask the head of curls in your lap. 

"Right!" Roan lifts her head to the receiver, her full row of top baby teeth white and shiny in the office lights. "I'm going to do the flying cabinet next!" 

"Filing," you correct. 

"Oh. That doesn't sound as fun." She wrinkles her nose. 

"Lunch first," you say. It's a good pacifier. Boring office tasks are usually easier after one of Eddie's sandwiches. 

"I'll leave you guys to it, then," Eddie says, muffled slightly by the roaring of an electric saw. "I'll try not to feel too left out over here." 

"If I were you I'd feel very left out," you say. 

"Nice. Love you, miss you, see you at five." 

You put the phone against Roan's pale ear. "Tell dad bye," you say. 

"Bye, daddy. I hope you have a nice lunch." 

Loving babble. Roan's smile gets bigger and bigger the longer Eddie talks. She stretches tall in your chair to put the phone down before twisting to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her nose cold where it presses into your throat. You bring a hand to the back of her head. 

"What's this for?" you ask, hugging her. 

"Dad said to give you one. And to say you didn't say I love you back, so, um, you're in the bad books." 

"Not the bad books," you murmur. 

"Don't worry. I get out of them all the time." 

—

more eddie, roan and reader

[meatball-headache]

Do I, though?

Oh. I can't wear it. What a surprise.

Hang on, let me check something real quick...

It's been more than five years and SE still can't figure out how to put hats on Viera. Not only that, but it's been five years and they're still making new hats that Viera can't wear. What is this? Laziness? Incompetence? Or is it just too technically difficult to make a hat that Viera can wea—

Oh, okay. Well, the Light-heavy hood I can at least wear, even though it deletes my ears. I guess there's some deep, inherent conflict that makes it impossible to have ears and a hat at the same ti—

Oh! Well, would you look at that. It's the Bozjan Hood of Fending, a hat that not only can Viera wear, but it has ears! So, clearly there's no technical limitation, it can be done. So why don't they?

Why fucking don't you, Yoshi?

This steams my onion on the daily. Viera have been out for five years and they still can't be bothered to make compatible hats for them. It's just laziness, because it's not like it's impossible, it's not like they can't figure it out, there are hats in-game that support ears! And, even better—there are mods that do it for ALL hats!

Yeah, two seconds on Google and I found like four mods that fixes ALL hats for Viera and Hrothgar. Something so impossible and technically challenging that SE hasn't been able to figure out how to do it in five years. The first versions of the mods were around 2021, two years after the races came out—so fans, who do this stuff in their free time, were able to figure out how to do it in two years, while SE, who's in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest video game credits, can't hire a full-time staffer to take care of it in five years?

What's really unacceptable, however, is when they add new real-money outfits that come with hats that Viera can't wear. They make a brand new outfit, charge real money for it, and then have the absolute gall to say "Oh yeah, it doesn't display for you. Fantasia is only $10 though!"

(I also think every game should let you remodel your character completely for free whenever you want. But, since people want that, they monetize it, so the shareholders will be pleased. But that's another discussion.)

I'd get the mod, but I don't use any mods, and I kinda like being "pure," judge me however you want—but, no one else would see me the way I see me, so it's half pointless. I'd create a cool character and they'd see something half complete... it bothers me enough wondering what people think about me when I at least know my portrait looks the same. But every day I lean closer to saying, fuck it, I paid for this game, it's mine to do with as I please.

Is there a mod that changes emotes? I always wanted the Shiva one :p

</rant>

[seat-safety-switch]

So many "car people" argue about engine oil. Everyone has an opinion on what weight, brand, sub-brand, synthetics package, and filter to use. If you use the wrong $80-a-jug stuff for even five seconds, they shriek, your engine will be irreversibly damaged.

Part of this is because the internet exists. Back in the day, I am told, people with strong opinions on what motor oil to use would have very limited opportunities to speak about those opinions. It isn't polite, for instance, to hijack a city council meeting's public comment session to speak about how Fram oil filters are the devil. Now, all those widely-dispersed weird assholes can be concentrated in a single forum, where they yell at each other for free.

Personally, I've never been too much of a snob about it. Sure, there's oils that I won't put in my car. That's usually because a lot of modern oils are too thin to quiet a disintegrating 1970s engine made mostly out of pig iron and regret. Sure, they still lubricate, but try telling that to the guy in the McDonalds drive-thru who is having some kind of traumatic flashback to The War when he hears the state of your rod bearings. Better just put in the thick stuff.

When you go through as many engines as I do, it's hard to get anxious about the particulars of a maintenance routine. Sure, if the previous owner had put in something nice instead of sand and sawdust about fifty years ago, this engine would have about three-and-a-half psi more compression by now. I'd still be struggling to get up hills and clattering every time I start the car while facing east. That's why I hang out behind the oil change place in the middle of the night and run their "waste oil" tank into a couple milk jugs in my back seat. Like wine, this stuff only gets better with time.

[quinton-reviews]

What advice would you give to someone considering making video essays?

Don't be weighed down by the expectations of others. It seems these days there are now too many people assuming that if you want to make something labeled a "video essay," you have to match a certain style or tone. In many ways, it's overbearing - if you make something that has too many skits, too many jokes, that doesn't have a strong thesis outside of "this thing is bad", people say you're "failing to find a point." But if you put weeks of work into the filmmaking process and you want to call it a documentary, it feels limiting to have people insist that it's just a rant video instead of something more.

In truth, I recommend just trying to make *videos* first and trying to find your voice. No one starts off on YouTube being totally original, but as you learn the craft you will find your own brand and style. I think it is important for smaller creators to experiment, in spite of keyboard warriors being obsessed with the idea of everything under the sun needing to be new.

Starting off, your biggest struggle will be finding contentment in the experience of making videos - finding your closure. If you don't have an audience watching your stuff right away, spending weeks working on a video with 0 views can feel pointless and frustrating. Without finding a resolution for each project, you'll start to wonder why you're doing it.

So instead, find a friend in your personal life who will watch the videos with you. Make content for you and the people you know, and find contentment in that experience. And when you start to grow and gain real followers, pivot your style to match that new status quo.

Creating content for YouTube is a process of throwing things at a wall until something sticks. The big secret is the moment something sticks, you drop everything you're working on and do *that thing* five more times. This helps build trust in the algorithm and helps build your brand to new viewers finding your content. But don't write yourself into a corner - allow yourself to experiment and evolve even as you're finding success. If I didn't do that, I'd still be making drama videos about LeafyisHere. I'd be burnt out, miserable, and bitter. But because I allowed my style to evolve with my own tastes, I now am at the highest point in my career (to the loud annoyance of many people online).

But the biggest advice I can give is that if you think being a YouTuber will solve any issues in your private life, it won't. That's the biggest mistake I made starting out, I thought having this parasocial connection with other creators would fix my loneliness and anxiety. It didn't, in fact, it made things worse; and I am the only person to blame for that. I quickly learned that the most important people in my life still were (and still are) my real-life friends - people I go to bars with IRL and people I chat with on Discord - and not other creators. Sure, having this mindset has made me more isolated in many ways, but honestly I think that's the way it has to be for someone like me.

Final piece of advice - create your YouTube channel with a secret email you never post about online. It makes it much harder to dox and hack you. Peace out!

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Things about being a Christian I've had to unlearn as an adult:

Spending a lot of time on/ being invested in something doesn't make it an idol. This is not how that works, bestie. Look. I get that the advice "if you spend more time on x hobby than you do reading the Bible and praying" is well-intentioned, but it's just plain Bad. There are a lot of hobbies that take significant amounts of time. Art. Writing. Trade hobbies, like woodworking. I spent two hours Saturday putting in a garden (now that I have space for one!), and not spending two hours and one minute on Bible reading doesn't mean that gardening is now an idol for me. It means I got into a groove and just kept going (and got terribly sunburned for my trouble). What makes something an idol is NOT how much time you spend on it but rather the importance you place upon it. Sometimes important things take five minutes and sometimes they take an hour; the thing that took five minutes isn't less important because it took up less of your time. If your thought process is "this is more important than spending time with God", that is what makes your hobby an idol. (If you are constantly foregoing your time with God in favor of a hobby, then I'd say you need to re-evaluate your priorities, but spending a lot of time on something does not inherently make it an idol. Not to mention that a lot of hobbies can still bring you closer to God despite not spending that time intentionally for that purpose.)

Not having your "quiet time"/ devotions every day does not make you a "bad" Christian. This goes hand-in-hand with the previous point, and there's a lot I could say on this topic, but what it boils down to is this: God understands our human limits and the brains He gave us that sometimes make it difficult -- autism and ADHD and OCD and [fill in the blank]. I'm autistic. So when (well-meaning) people say things like, "you can't get to know God if you don't spend time with Him!" about praying and reading the Bible -- well, 'spending time' looks different for me. Socializing is difficult for me. And while socializing with God is obviously different than with people, praying is still far more mentally draining for me than for most people (especially growing up in an environment where it was implied that you have to 'say the right things' when you pray instead of just allowing it to be a conversation, but that's the next point). A lot of "socializing" for me is simply being present with someone else. This is called "parallel play": you're doing your own thing in the same space as someone else while they are also doing their own thing. This...doesn't translate well to Christianity and what Christianity is "supposed" to look like, unfortunately, so I constantly felt shame that none of the common advice worked for me when it seemed to work for everyone else. Set a time? Executive dysfunction makes switching tasks hard and once that set time has passed, "well, it's too late now". Having a reading plan? I'd miss a day, fall behind, and the shame at that would keep me from continuing to try. And when I did manage to stay on track, quite often it simply became a box to check off and that was it. So, now, I do what I can, when I can. I always get more out of it, and I think God cares more about that than sticking to a plan just so you can say you read every day anyway.

"Don't script your prayers! They'll become repetitive and you won't think about or mean them!" Oh, boy. Once again, I get the well-intentioned meaning here. You don't want your prayers to become rote and stale. But as someone with high anxiety, scripting them is the only way I can survive praying aloud with other people, and, in fact, it means I put more thought into them, not less! But hearing this kind of advice coupled with an environment where it was implied you had to say 'the right things, the right way' was absolutely detrimental to my prayer life growing up. I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, especially as an undiagnosed autistic who was constantly, ya know, saying the wrong things in conversations with people. So I definitely didn't want to say the wrong things to God! But... I also wasn't allowed to plan what to say? How was I supposed to pray then? So I just. didn't pray. For a very long time. Until I learned its just as perfectly okay to talk to God about whatever crosses your mind while you're standing at the sink doing dishes as it is sitting down with a list of things to focus on. (Not to mention that this really is just...terrible advice in general. Kudos to my pastor, who, in his current Sunday night series on worship, actually gave a tutorial on how to personalize praying the Psalms. So, you know, pre-written prayers.)

Purity Culture. Need I say more? Oh, I could write a whole post about how harmful this is, but plenty of people already have, so I'll leave it at this: I wear what I am comfortable wearing now. Something I love about my church is that our philosophy on modesty is this: The greatest sin of immodesty is saying "look at me" instead of "look at God." In other words, modest isn't about what you're wearing so much as what your attitude about what you're wearing is. If you choose what to wear because you want people to notice and stare and give you compliments, then that is immodest no matter how much of your skin is covered up. It's not immodest to wear clothes you like and that you think are attractive (or that help you look professional when its called for), but ultimately your mindset is really not about "dressing to impress." (There is a very thin line between 'modest' and 'immodest' and its not where most people think it is.)

[beatledumpster]

The Beatles by photographer Jean-Marie Périer

First encounter(s), 1964 -

(the text below is made up of a few quotes put together, assuming that the photos and associated memories are all from the same day, which is very likely but not 100% sure)

In the early 60s, I only knew as much English as I'd learned in high school. Needless to say, my vocabulary was very limited. For the first session I met them in the office of their agent Brian Epstein, who knew of our magazine. They came in one after the other, making jokes I didn't really understand.

They saw this awkward twenty-four-year-old Frenchman who looked eighteen, and my hesitant English didn’t reassure them. You can see it in this photo, where John casts a doubtful glance at his mates. Like Ringo, he was almost the same age as me, Paul was twenty-one and so was George. The only thing that impressed them a little is that I lived with Françoise Hardy, whom they were crazy about, like most English people at the time. But don't get me wrong, their success was fairly recent, and to me they weren’t the "Beatles" with a capital "B", but just a bunch of guys who made cool music.

I immediately took pictures of them standing by a window, talking to them mostly with gestures, like a translator for deaf-mutes on the news. Then I suggested we go to the studio I'd booked. As I arrived downstairs with them, I saw this red door. "What if we did one there?" I said randomly. By the time we'd found a chair for Ringo to position himself, the shoot took five minutes. To think that this is now the most famous photo I've taken of the band… 

[At the studio] I decided to stand out so that they’d remember me (…). I asked them to line up. Then I gave each of them a cigarette and a lighter. I then told my assistant to turn off the lights. I could hear them laughing in the dark. I asked them to light their cigarettes. Click-clack, thank you Kodak, I took three photos and told my assistant to turn the lights back on. "Thank you gentlemen, that will be all for today." It certainly surprised them, because they didn’t forget me (…)

After the studio session, they must have taken a liking to me, because they immediately took me to Anello & Davide, the manufacturer of English rockers' boots, the ones with the zip on the side, the absolute dream at the time.

We had been in the store for less than half an hour when the street was blocked by a crowd of young girls frenzied by the band’s presence. We had to call the police to get out. That gave me an idea of the scale of their success. Anyway, I was happy, I had my boots…

Paris, Milan, concerts… 1965

Stuck in their suites at the George V Hotel, they couldn't venture outside because of the crowds of fans shouting their names from the sidewalk. So it was with great pleasure that they agreed to let me take them out for a drink at the Grande Cascade for a few photos.

(Photo 2: it was great to see them having a laugh while waiting for the ducks to come).

It's funny how they all used to ask me to hand them a camera. Then I'd give them the film, so I’d never see the pictures they had taken.

Six o'clock in the morning on the roof of Milan Cathedral. We'd spent the night in an unlikely nightclub, and a city official had had the cathedral opened so that the Beatles could visit it in peace. Ringo was up to his usual antics near the gargoyles, then we headed back to the hotel. There, girls were waiting for them, squealing. Several of them had gone up to the suites, and it was quite like a surprise party, more innocent than you'd expect. A few merrymakings later, they were going to sleep through the day until around 5 or 6 p.m., when they'd get to work, i.e. go on stage…

Paul, 1966

I really like this photo of Paul, so English, playing the piano in a suit and tie. I called him from Paris and said, “I have to do eight pages on you. What day can I come to London?” He offered me a Thursday. “How much time do you need?” he asked. “Three hours!” I arrive at his place and we take a few photos, then we get in his Rolls to take some more in Hyde Park. What I like is that he comes in a suit and tie, which proves to me that he told himself: “Eight pages on little old me? Okay, let’s go for a classic look.” Yet God knows that in what the newspapers call “Swinging London” (a bit of a ridiculous expression, London has always been whimsical) the Beatles were at the forefront of fashion trends, inventing the most fanciful mixes, changing their look every week. What the “I’m a rocker/leather/dark glasses” obsessed people forget today is that when I met the Beatles and the Stones they were often wearing a tie. “Being rock” doesn’t mean anything, it’s a fan’s dream that lacks imagination. (…)

…

In 2014, [Gilles Mora] called me and said, "I'm going to do an exhibition at the Pavillon Populaire in Montpellier with Linda McCartney's photographs, Paul has agreed to come for the opening, but I don't know him, you'll have to come." I explain that the last time I saw Paul was in 1968: "You know," I tell him, "he's been through a lot since then, and I'm not sure he remembers!" It doesn't matter, Gilles wants me to be there. So I come down from Paris in the company of my friend Marc Lambron, who I know will be delighted. Before the "Beatle" arrives, Mora tells me that organizers have been there for two days to prepare the star's trip from London by private jet. Everything is set up just as it was for the arrival of the Queen of England. Indeed, at the end of the day, Paul McCartney arrives on time, surrounded by his family. And in the midst of the two hundred people who greeted him, to my great surprise, he saw me and gave me the warmest of nods of recognition. Frankly, I wasn't expecting it - I wouldn't have blamed him if he hadn't recognized me. And then he introduces me to his wife and daughter, telling them verbatim: "You see, with him it was the good old days, we had a lot of laughs, I've got nothing but good memories!" Well, not only was I surprised by this, I must admit it made me very happy.

1967

This is the last photo I took of the Beatles, at Abbey Road studio during the recording of “SGT. PEPPER’S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND”. The atmosphere was already a little heavy, John was standing out, maybe it felt like the end. See, he’s looking elsewhere. With Michel Taittinger and my assistant Marianne Haas, we had set up an improvised photo studio inside Abbey Road, adjoining the one in which they were working. The difficulty was to get all four of them together. There was always one or two talking to the angels on the roof.

Three weeks later I returned to their manager’s office, to show them the shots, to pick record sleeves for the English market. I was accompanied by my sister Anne-Marie. In another room, the band were listening to “Penny Lane”, a song from their new album “Magical Mystery Tour”, about to be released. While waiting for them, I chatted with Brian. When they arrived, I showed them the photos, they made their choice, they were happy; but what did we do after? I can’t remember. What I do know is that a few days later I had a fight with John, and I never saw him again. I’ve always regretted it.

Many more photos (but watermarked) : https://www.photo12.com/fr/images?search=beatles&col=jmp

[kaialone]

Official Guilty Gear Anthology- Short Story "Night at the May Ship" (English Translation)

This will be a full English translation of the short story "Night at the May Ship", written by KOHカピバラ (KOH Capybara)

It’s the fourth out of five short stories included in the "Official Guilty Gear Anthology", which was available online for a limited time only from April 1st to April 8th 2024, as part of April Fools’ Day celebrations.

--

Night at the May Ship

"…And then, the legless warrior said to me…"

I put on an ominous voice. May and April held their breath.

"…Give me…

Give me your sword!!"

"Eeeeeek!!!!"

They both screamed and clung onto each other.

Haha, if it scared them that much, telling that story was worth it.

Today, May invited me and Delilah over to her ship.

Really, I meant to send Delilah off by herself, but she begged me to come along.

If I do anything that upsets her when she gives me that look, it takes forever for her to quit sulking.

When that happens, I get stuck with laundry duty for a week. And I do not want that.

I was planning on going home by myself after dinner, but then May insisted that I stay the night.

"Alright, story time's over. I'm going to bed. You girls oughta sleep, too."

Smiling, May and April went "Okay~" before heading to their beds.

I scanned the room for Delilah. Seems like she dozed off during my story. She was sound asleep on the guest bed.

After I told the three of them goodnight and heard May and April's replies, I slowly closed the door.

Then, I sat by myself in the ship's dining room. Drinking the rest of my sake, smoking my pipe, waiting until I'd feel sleepy.

Around half an hour later, I heard a noise coming from the hallway.

pitter

At first I thought it was just one of the pirates walking around, so I didn't pay it any mind.

It sounded like someone was randomly stumbling around the hallway in front of the dining room.

pitter, patter

The sound kept going on like this with no clear pattern.

I got a bit curious and stuck my head out of the door, to ask what was happening in the hallway.

It was as dimly lit as before. The temperature had gotten a bit colder compared to the dining room, though. Perhaps someone turned up the air conditioning?

But I didn't see anybody around. The ship's air made my lips feel dry.

Finding it suspicious, I went to sit down on the couch in the dining room, gave the stem of my pipe a good smack, and let the leaves fall into the ashtray.

Just then, the sound came from the hallway again.

pitter, patter

"Is there anything you're scared of?"

I remembered that the pirate Octy had asked this while we were having dessert after dinner.

Because of that, we all started talking about ghosts, and along the way I somehow ended up telling that ghost story.

In truth, I've never thought of ghosts or spirits as scary.

Now that the Theory of Magical Science has been developed as much as it has, most things can be explained just by saying "it's magic."

Still…

pitter, patter

pitter, patter

pat

The sound seemed to have stopped right in front of the dining room.

It wasn't even summer, yet I felt sweat run down my neck.

I didn't… have my sword.

When we boarded the ship, I left all my weapons with July and Augus.

I braced myself and stood up, deliberately stomping my feet as I approached the door.

After taking a deep breath, I grabbed it by the knob and swung it open without further hesitation.

There was nothing there but the dim hallway.

I sighed with relief.

"Big Sis."

"D'aaargh!!"

The source of the voice was none other than Delilah, standing in the hallway, off to the side.

She was right in my blind spot, so I didn't notice her.

"…O-Oh, it's you, Delilah. What's wrong, I thought you were asleep."

I might've been flustered and started talking a little too fast.

Delilah looked down as she muttered her answer.

Apparently, she was wandering around because she didn't know where the bathroom was.

"…"

I let out a long sigh and took Delilah to the bathroom.

She was still looking down after she was done, and so I sent her back to bed.

Just before she entered the room, I heard her mumble "good night."

As for me, I went to a guest room they had prepared.

I fell into bed as soon as I'd untied my hair.

Slowly, the tension left my body.

…Actually, the bathroom was diagonally across from the room that Delilah and the others were sleeping in. It was just a few steps away.

As a courtesy, it even had a sign by it that clearly read "TOILET", illuminated with a night light, so one should be able to see it in the dark.

In other words…

"She was just pretending to be asleep, huh."

So, she did listen to my ghost story.

She must have feigned sleep, so no one would see that she was scared.

That's why she missed her chance to use the bathroom earlier, I bet.

And then she was wandering around in the dark, probably contemplating whether she should call out to me or not.

My lips curled into a faint smile. Now I was starting to relax.

Maybe I'll tease her a bit about it tomorrow. It'll probably drive her up the wall. It might even earn me two weeks of laundry duty. Though maybe that won't be so bad…

Savoring the feeling of satisfaction that softly spread within me, I let myself slip into a pleasant slumber.

End.

--

[aesethewitch]

Shufflemancy 101: A Brief History & Analysis

Hey! If you like my work and want to support me in my quest for divination theory, digital tools, algorithmic quandries, and research into niche divination tools, consider throwing dollars at my Ko-Fi tip jar! Every contribution helps me keep making posts like this one. (You can also read this post over on Ko-Fi!)

The difficulty with researching something like shufflemancy is that it's a relatively modern phenomenon. I haven't yet found anyone (online or in a book) specifically talking about the origins of shufflemancy as a term or where it might've come from.

So, we start from square one.

What is Shufflemancy?

According to Wikipedia, shufflemancy is divination "by the use of an electronic media player such as an electronic playlist, iPod, or other medium wherein one skips a certain number of songs and the lyrics and/or tune of the song is the answer to the divinatory question."

Simple enough. Use an electronic collection of music that's been shuffled to divine.

This did lead me to the question: What counts as shufflemancy? Does tuning into a radio station count?

It's my opinion that radio divination does not count. There's no shuffle function. Yes, it has an element of chance, and that's what makes it divination. It certainly falls under the wider umbrella of divination via music, too. But it isn't shufflemancy if it doesn't make use of a shuffle function.

So, to make things simple, for something to be shufflemancy, it must:

Use an electronic medium

Involve a randomized shuffle function

Be something the shufflemancer can interpret to answer a question (pretty much anything)

Early Shufflemancy

The earliest form of shufflemancy as we understand it today, using the above requirements, would probably be tape players capable of shuffling music. With the nature of tape, it would take a while for the thing to wind and rewind to find the cue on the tape which signaled the start or end of a song, but it'd work.

With that said, shuffling as we understand and recognize it today would've started with CDs in the 1980s. There were CD players that could hold three to five disks at a time. They could shuffle songs between all disks held in the player, creating a random mix of tunes for listeners to enjoy.

Using either of these methods for divination would work, technically. The results would be somewhat limited, but that doesn't mean it's a bad method to use. Especially if your CD player could hold 5 disks, you could easily put in 5 albums from different artists with all different vibes for a wider variety of outputs.

I certainly remember using my little blue radio that held two CDs at once like this. I'd put in two albums and hit shuffle, and the first song that played would be my vibe and advice for the day. It was divination -- some of the earliest I'd ever done consciously, at the young age of nine. And when I got the bigger one that held three CDs? Game changer.

So this puts shufflemancy's origins somewhere around the mid-to-late 1980s, when Sony put out the first CD player with shuffle. As we moved into the 1990s, CDs became more popular and cassettes faced obsolescence.

The Shuffle Revolution & Early Modern Shufflemancy

In 2005, Apple changed the game again. It had already debuted the iPod in 2001, providing an easy, pocket-sized music experience as a direct challenge to the CD's cultural domination. On January 11, 2005, nearly 20 years ago, Apple announced the iPod Shuffle.

And oh, boy, did it change everything.

I could talk forever about the iPod's impact on the music industry, the death of the in-order album, and the eventual rise of music streaming services. But others have done that to death, so I'll focus in on our topic of shufflemancy.

This is where we start seeing shuffling music as it is now, in the modern day. In my digging, I found mentions of the term "shufflemancy" as early as 2007 -- just two years after the iPod Shuffle was announced. Someone proposed the concept and terminology of "shufflemancy" as we understand it today on a Halfbakery Forum "Idea" post on October 3, 2007.

It's difficult to say whether this is the first instance of the term. In reality, shufflemancy seems to have emerged as a natural by-product of the evolution of music technology. Where there is innovation, witches and diviners will mold it to their purposes. We're a resourceful bunch like that. It grew organically as we moved from buying albums to buying singles to streaming music without buying at all.

People were offering public shufflemancy readings as early as 2009 in places like TarotForum.net. It's spoken about during this era as a "silly" and "new" form of divination that people were trying out. There aren't any dates in that link, but according to the website's data, the first post in the thread was published on June 16, 2009.

From there, shufflemancy saw a gradual rise in popularity. It evolved from using iPods to iTunes, Napster, and eventually Spotify as these new applications emerged.

Shufflemancy Now

If you look up "shufflemancy" using Spotify's search function, you'll receive dozens of results. Many of the top playlists are public ones curated by shufflemancers for themselves and others to use. Options range from general playlists to "mega mixes" containing upwards of 200 hours of music from all different genres, artists, and eras. There are some with a paltry five hours of music, while one that I've seen goes up over the 600 hour mark. (If I can find that one again, I'll reblog it, because... damn.)

Select a "messages from your guides" option from the search or curate your own -- the choice is yours. For one-time shufflemancers, using a pre-made option may be the best, most economical choice. But dedicated shufflemancers sometimes boast multiple hundred-hour playlists for different purposes, all personally curated.

Clearly, it's popular. There are shufflemancers on Tumblr and Etsy offering free and paid services using their specially curated playlists. A quick search is all you need to find someone receiving a divinatory reading via song lyrics, meanings, and vibes. And it seems to work -- sellers on Etsy boast hundreds of positive reviews. Some even offer playlist curation services for personal shufflemancy or messages from deities and/or spirits.

It all begs the question, how does shufflemancy work?

Shufflemancy Methodology

Finding this is significantly easier than pinning down the history of shufflemancy. This post from Tumblr user orriculum, sums it up fairly well. So does this one by the-daily-diviner.

To do shufflemancy, the basic steps are:

Create or find a playlist of songs. A large collection seems to be the most favorable option for a wide spread of possibilities.

Ask a question. Divination 101 -- figure out what you want to know and ask it. Simple enough.

Pick a number. Choose any number and shuffle that many times or skip that many songs.

Listen to the song. Write down lyrics that stick out, messages that come through, and anything else that seems relevant (genre, tempo, vibe, etc.)

Interpret. Take the information gathered during the song and use it to draw conclusions, just like any other form of divination.

Simple enough. Shufflemancy is the sort of method that requires a high level of intuitive thinking. It's very mutable and suits a good amount of personalization.

This is both good and bad, I think. It would be incredibly easy to create a bias in your shufflemancy playlists by selecting songs with primarily one genre, artist, album, emotion, or through-line. The ideal playlist really does have a wide variety of music, and this means selecting songs that the shufflemancer doesn't necessarily like. We all have a genre or artist we hate; excluding an entire genre skews results. Impartial selections of music are critical to the success of good divination. Otherwise, we risk interfering with the outcome.

And speaking of interfering...

The Algorithm Problem

(Note: I'm focusing in on Spotify since it's very commonly used and because it's accessible to me. Shufflemancy can be (and is!) done with plenty of other apps like Apple Music.)

When Spotify was originally launched, it used a version of the Fisher-Yates Shuffle to perform its shuffling of music. In essence, this algorithm takes a finite sequence of data, picks an option from that selection of data, and removes it from the pool. Then, it picks another and another until no more options remain.

At first glance, this seems great! It creates a fairly random output. But as is the nature of randomness, there were clusters. The same artist would play four or five times in a row from a large playlist, and Spotify users complained. It was random, but it didn't feel that way.

The human brain is wired to find connections and patterns. When the same artist plays over and over again despite a playlist being on shuffle mode, it creates a pattern that the brain recognizes. Therefore, the "true" randomness of clustering outputs was unsatisfactory.

So, in 2014, Spotify updated it. Their new algorithm would detect and remember the song it just played and, in shuffling, account for the artist and album to provide a more random-feeling result. The new algorithm detects what's already played and selects accordingly to prevent the same artist from playing twice in a row, just as it prevents the same song from playing twice. It spreads artists out evenly (though not perfectly, to maintain the illusion of randomness) to provide an enhanced listening experience.

What does this mean for shufflemancy, then? If Spotify's algorithm is interfering in the output provided from a playlist, does that mean it's not a reliable form of divination?

At first, I wasn't so sure. I adjusted my thinking -- if a tarot app was preventing certain cards from being drawn (or from being drawn in a particular order) because I'd already drawn them that day or week, would that render the app unreliable? And the answer was yes. It would! It removes the random element from the method, therefore making it not true divination by my definition.

So shufflemancy with Spotify isn't (good) divination, then. Right?

My Opinion & Theory

In thinking about this further, I think it comes down to personal opinion. People certainly have success with shufflemancy via Spotify, or else they wouldn't do it. They definitely wouldn't offer their services (free or otherwise) if they weren't confident in the results it provides.

Thinking that way, I believe there's a way to off-set the algorithm's interference. With enough songs in a playlist, the random element is enhanced despite the algorithm. Not by having the same song multiple times (Spotify would surely detect this and prevent it from playing), but perhaps the same song covered by different artists. Songs with the same vibe, the same meaning, similar lyrics... AND songs from a wide variety of artists and genres, regardless of whether the shufflemancer likes the songs or not.

The person with that 600+ hour playlist for shufflemancy has it right, I think. That's the key. Variety and volume to make up for Spotify's algorithmic shuffler.

Additionally, in listening to my many, many Spotify playlists, I noticed something. If I'm listening to a playlist on shuffle and decide I want a specific song, I can choose to play it immediately. Afterwards, songs I've already heard might play. It seems as though doing this resets the shuffling algorithm in some way. Doing this in combination with a large and varied playlist might be the key to making shufflemancy in Spotify truly, fully reliable.

My Next Steps

Obviously, scholarly research only goes so far in situations like this. In order to properly gauge the accuracy of shufflemancy, I'll have to do it myself.

First, I'll need a playlist. I have a handful of playlists that sit in the hundred-hour range, but they're curated with friends for specific vibes. They're not really suitable for shufflemancy. So making one for myself is step one. I'll use premade playlists as a springboard for ideas, but the end result will be my own. For transparency, I'll make the playlist public and share it as part of the next edition in this series of posts.

The next step is to just... do it. Do the divinations, and do them regularly. Instead of a daily tarot card, I'll do a daily shuffle. I'll form "spreads" and put together a more in-depth methodology that fits my style as it develops.

Then, finally, maybe public ones? For reviews and feedback, obviously. It's one thing to do divination for myself -- confirmation bias and all -- but to do it for others and to be open for immediate feedback is entirely different.

Last, it's a matter of compiling my findings into a coherent document. Easier said than done, but done it must be.

Resources

I pulled from a lot of places for this one. Massive thanks to the Crossroads Discord for listening to me yell about divination for the last several weeks. It will continue.

In any case, here are all the resources I referenced for this leg of research:

Wikipedia - The Fisher-Yates Shuffle

Wikipedia - Methods of Divination

Wikipedia - The iPod Shuffle

PopSci - History of Shuffling Music

Engineering at Spotify - How to Shuffle?

The Verge - The Mixed-Up History of the Shuffle Button

Auntie PanPan (YouTube) - Shufflemancy - What IS It?!?

Halfbakery - Shufflemancy Idea Post

Fox and Faith Wordpress - Radio Divination and Intentional Living in Your Day to Day

Scientific American - How Randomness Rules Our World and Why We Cannot See It

PC World - The CD Player Turns 30

Make Use Of - How Spotify's Shuffle Feature Really Works

Orriculum on Tumblr - Post on shufflemancy technique

The-Daily-Divinre on Tumblr - Post on shufflemancy technique

Empirical Zeal - What Does Randomness Look Like?

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Lucifer

Part Three of A New Series

Question One: How do your friends describe you in a word?

Cranky.

Question Two: Who would you want to be stuck with on an island?

If I was limited to just one person, then MC. If there were multiple people, I'd add Mammon and Barbatos.

Question Three: What are you hiding now?

Treats from Cerberus. Not because he isn't a good dog, but because he's found their original hiding place and has been digging into them constantly, and the treats I give Cerberus are rather expensive, so I can't exactly afford to buy them every day and ensure that other stuff gets paid for.

Question Four: Do you prefer mountains or beaches?

It depends on my mood. If I don't want anyone to find me, then definitely mountains, but if I'm feeling a bit romantic, then I'd hit the beach.

Question Five: What is your hidden talent?

I can juggle. And I don't mean that in the metaphorical sense--although I can do that too--but in the literal sense, like a circus clown. It's one of the ways I relieve stress, because I can just shut my brain off and focus on keeping the objects I'm juggling up in the air.

Question Six: What makes you laugh?

You'll get a satisfied chuckle out of me whenever someone I dislike gets what they deserve, but if you want to hear a true, unrestrained laugh, either get me drunk on Demonus or put me in a room with MC when they're in a good mood.

Question Seven: If you were a thing, what would you be?

A metronome.

Question Eight: If you have no GPS, how would you find your destination?

I'd print out directions. (But what if you were unable to do that?) Then I'd ask the locals where I need to go. I may be the Avatar of Pride, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to admit when I'm lost. (someone yells out, "that's a lie, and you know it!") And if all else fails, then I'll get to my destination through sheer determination.

Question Nine: Describe your three best qualities.

Apparently I'm patient, kind, and loving. (Why do you phrase it like that?) Because I wouldn't necessarily call myself any of those things, but I trust that the person who did wouldn't lie to me about such things. (And who might that person be?) MC.

Question Ten: Would you consider yourself a cool person?

I'm going to lean towards no. I'm far from being a trendy person. Just ask any of my brothers. (What about MC?) You'll have to ask them. I know they like spending time with me, but I honestly don't know why. Usually I'm busy with paperwork, and it's not like that's terribly interesting.

Question Eleven: What is a skill you want to master?

Baking.

Question Twelve: What would you do first if you won a human world jackpot?

Pay off any debts MC may have.

Question Thirteen: What one aspect of the human world would you change if you could?

I'd make it legal to punish animal and child abusers by inflicting the same types of torture onto them as they did on their victims. (That's rather serious, Lucifer.) So is abusing those that are unable to understand why their supposed family is hurting them.

Question Fourteen: What is your preferred card or board game?

Let's just say that I'm not allowed to play any tabletop fantasy games unless I can ensure that all of my work is complete. (Why's that?) You've met Levi, yes? (I have.) Now, imagine me behaving like him, and you'll have your answer.

Question Fifteen: What is your current favorite app on your phone?

Don't make fun of me, but there's this app where you can send messages to people and it shows up on their phone in a cartoony heart. (Are you talking about the viral Candy Heart app?) ...yes. (That's actually quite sweet.) It was MC's idea, and I initially did downloaded it just to amuse them, but I've come to enjoy using it as time has gone on.

Question Sixteen: Would you go to space if you could?

I'm content with merely looking at pictures of space.

Question Seventeen: What kind of museum or exhibit do you prefer?

I like learning about the history of different objects. Looking at their evolution fascinates me.

Question Eighteen: What kind of humor do you prefer?

I'll throw you a curve ball: I enjoy a nice pun from time to time, even if it would be classified as a "dad joke".

Question Nineteen: Do you prefer driving a car, a motorcycle, or a bicycle?

Oh, a motorcycle, by far.

Question Twenty: When was the last time you climbed a tree?

This is going to really show my age, but the last time I climbed a tree was when I was a young angel. *pauses* Thinking about it is making me want to do it now. Being up in the branches is quite peaceful.

Question Twenty-One: What is your strangest habit?

There are times where the only way I'm able to fall asleep is to hang upside-down like a bat.

Question Twenty-Two: What is your weirdest fantasy?

I'll give you an oddly specific one: if I'm ever able to retire, I'd like to buy a farm somewhere in the human world countryside and raise livestock and plant fruits and vegetables with MC. (You've brought them up several times in this interview.) You could say that I have a soft spot for them. (Or that you love them.) Well, obviously. They're a wonderful person to be around. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with them if I could. (You mean, their life.) Listen, I don't choose my words lightly. What I say is what I mean, one hundred percent.

Question Twenty-Three: Here's something a bit more light-hearted: would you rather fight a shark or wrestle a lion?

The lion. I can't swim nearly as well as Levi can.

Question Twenty-Four: How do you want the world to end?

By my hand.

Question Twenty-Five: Would you like to be shorter or taller?

I like my height just the way it is. (What if you had to choose one or the other?) Then I suppose taller. I don't feel I'd be able to intimidate people as well if I was shorter.

Question Twenty-Six: Who is the annoying person you want to get rid of in your life?

I don't necessarily want to get rid of anyone, but I'd like to seriously alter the behaviors of Solomon and Mephistopheles.

Question Twenty-Seven: Which artist and/or song dominates your human world music playlist?

I'll give you both: Metallica and "Adore You" by Harry Styles.

Question Twenty-Eight: If you had to go to prison, what would be the reason?

Treason.

Question Twenty-Nine: What is the most critical trait you seek in a friend?

They have to be able to keep secrets.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[seattlesea]

Lorien Legacies Characters as Things My Family and I Have Said (part five)

Nine: God the smell in here is making me want to die John: Then go outside Five: Then die --- Maggie, writing a book: Can your breathing get cut off if there's a heavy weight on your chest? Adam: Yeah Maggie: Cool Adam: That's how they killed people in the old days, by stacking a bunch of rocks on their chest and suffocating them Maggie: Okay a 'Yes' would've been fine --- John: Finish your food Nine: I'm going to go home and take the fattest shit you've ever seen do not make me eat more --- Eight: I'm psychic, I can see into people's futures. I see in your near future that you're going to get sick Eight: *coughs in Nine's face* --- Adam: Did you eat? Maggie: Yeah. A strawberry Adam: That's it? Maggie: Two strawberries --- Six and John: *talking about spirit animals* Six: You'd be a swan John: Because I'm so graceful? Six: No cause you're white --- Sam: I was actually really good at orchestra in school, I was first chair on the cello Six: *puts her hand to her chest and gasps* Oh my god! Sam: What? Six, sarcastically: What a cool story! --- Six and Marina: *having a normal adult conversation* Eight: My black olive just rolled across my laptop --- Nine: Dirty mother... John: *giving him a dirty look with Ella next to him* Nine:...Of...Jesus --- One: Hey what're you gonna be for Halloween? Adam: I dunno yet what about you? One: I was thinking of being a witch Adam: Oh that's cool One: Yeah maybe you can be my broomstick so I can ride you all night Adam: WHAT- One: What, is that bad? Would you rather I be a pirate and you be a sword so I can stick you in me? Adam: *screaming* --- Ella: *touches a gross blanket* Ew Marina: What? Ella: It's giving me the ick Marina: The what? Ella: I'm acoustic --- Six: Bitch, I do NOT lift to be called a lipstick lesbian --- Five: *staring at a candle* Eight: What are you doing? Five: Trying to light myself on fire with my mind --- Nine, in public loud as hell: Yeah I'd fuck young Elvis Strangers passing by: *giving him grossed-out looks* Nine: What? You would too Nine, muttering: Prudes --- Sam: Look at my skeleton animal collection. I can a bat, I got a rat, and I got a cat Hannu, sadly: But no hats --- John: *celebrating his birthday and opening gifts* Five, silently crying: *places a couple wadded-up singles in front of John* That's all I got --- Six: You know it would've been easier if you just took the highway Marina: But...the trees... --- Adam: I'm gay John after taking Adam to a Fall Out Boy concert and watching him sit on the floor with three empty couches: Cool --- One and Six: *Talking about the ped@ at their job* Six: He's the reason there's an 18+ age limit --- Five: Despite popular belief, I will be going to Heaven because Satan will be jealous someone has a fatter ass than him --- Sam teaching the Lorics to make cereal: Okay first gather your things Lorics: :) Sam: Then, you put in your milk Daniela: Huh? Lorics: :) Sam: Next, you add your cereal Daniela: Hell no Lorics: :) Sam: Then drizzle in your honey Daniela: Bro WHAT Lorics: :) Sam: And finally, put it in the microwave Daniela: WHAT THE FUCK Lorics: :) Sam: And then you have cereal Lorics: Yay Daniela: I'm going to kill you --- Marina: So what is credit score? Sam: *ten minute explanation of credit score, payments, debt, and loans with examples* Marina:... Sarah: The loophole so the bank can't lend poor people money to stop being poor Marina: Ohhhh --- Nine: Damn, dude, I really don't know anything about you. I only know like your favorite color and animal, the music you listen to, your favorite movies, how you dress, your favorite coffee flavor, your personality, your deepest fear, your address, your entire backstory, all the people you like and hate, and your habit of needing to use a straw with every single drink or it doesn't 'taste right' John:... --- Eight: Damn I'm thirsty Adam: Then go drink water Eight: I can't, I'm fasting Adam:...Well I think you're supposed to drink water if you're running around all the time Eight:...

[eldritch-spouse]

[Agner was needing a brush up so I figured I'd make a semi-intro to possibly the only normal guy around here.]

What happens when you mix and mash five bobbles?

That's right, insanity.

Or, more accurately, a very stressed Patches trying to fix an unknowable situation.

Bobbles are simple, predictable creatures. It's what makes them so easy to manage usually, so mechanical to develop and replace.

Although one thing he's come to notice along time is that, sometimes, a rudimentary creation doesn't have the limiters complex organisms like most people have. A bobble can't catch the flu, a bobble can't bleed out, a bobble can sprout a number of deformities that make it develop such fascinating abilities!

That's why Patches didn't immediately think to put down the creature that formed out of five developing bobble tubes being knocked together. He's learned to be less reckless since then, yes- But he couldn't resist the urge to find where that accident would lead.

Agner did not have a smooth start in life.

His first memory was of staring down at his own puddling body and knowing that something was deeply wrong but not understanding what.

Then, it was the core-shaking sensation of splitting apart and ceasing to exist altogether as all five bobbles fought for control.

He doesn't remember much from those days. Just the fear mostly.

And consistently waking up in Patches' laboratory miraculously put together after each soul-rattling split.

He likes to joke that, after losing his mind so many times, Agner really had no choice but to become sane.

And just about the only reliable guy in the premises, honestly.

How come in a place so rotten, full of broken people whose priorities are in the worst of places, he had to be the normal one?

Anger has accepted that he's as much a part of The Clergy as all the other bobbles are. He's a barman when there's need for it, a carry mule, a waiter, a jack of all trades really.

But what he swore he'd never be, is a victim of The Clergy's Eye.

He would never be purposely vile, he wouldn't derive pleasure off the misery of others, he wouldn't hurt, harass or torture.

Agner could have turned out exactly like the people he works with on a daily basis, unloading his frustrations recklessly and selfishly, for satisfaction that seldom ever lasts. But why? Why see his existence as something hopeless that he needs to make everyone's problem? Sure, he could split apart and simply never become cohesive again, marking the end of his life, but it's miraculous enough he's lived this far.

Agner figures he should just be happy he gets to exist and see the little things, the beauty in the details. If he can help someone else while he's at it, then he's just giving more meaning to the time he spends on this planet. All he wants is to be a person, really. To have as normal of an experience alive an amalgamation like him can hope to.

Indeed, a giant softie who unfortunately works in a very dark place and sometimes has to protect himself.

But perhaps a hidden lifeline for someone caged in the depths of the establishment and desperate enough to cling to anyone.

Agner is no saint, and he knows he's limited in what he can do make your life less stressful, but he can try.

He can try to make you happy.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

My favorite quotes from each Doctor (TV only)

I'll have to do some for the EU too sometime.

One: "I don't make threats. But I do keep promises. And I promise you I shall cause you more trouble than you bargained for, if you don't return my property!"

Two (about his family): "Oh yes, I can when I want to. And that's the point really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they....they sleep in my mind and I forget."

Three: "Courage isn't a matter of not being frightened, you know. It's being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway."

Four: "You see, if someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?"

Five: "Once a man fell asleep and dreamt he was a frog. When he woke up, he didn't know if he was a man who dreamt he was a frog, or a frog who was now dreaming he was a man."

Six: "This is a situation that requires tact and finesse. Fortunately, I am blessed with both!"

Seven (while fighting the Master): "If we fight like animals, we die like animals!"

Eight (god the fact I'm limiting this post to TV is killing me, really shot myself in the foot there): "You're tired of life but afraid of dying!"

Nine: "Just this once, everybody lives!"

Ten: "Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters, it's the person."

Eleven: "Nine hundred years of time and space and I've never met someone who wasn't important."

Twelve: "This is not a war. I fought in a bigger war than you will ever know. I did worse things than you could ever imagine, and when I close my eyes....I hear more screams than anyone could ever be able to count! And do you know what you do with all that pain? Shall I tell you where you put it? You hold it tight....til it burns your hands. And you say this - no one else will ever have to live like this. No one else will ever have to feel this pain. Not on my watch."

Thirteen: "You're wrong about humans. They're not pathetic; they're magnificent. They live with their fears, doubts, guilts. They face them down every day. And they prevail. That's not weakness. That's strength. That's what humanity is."

Bonuses (crack edition) - if you recognize all of these please marry me

"Don't be lasagna."

"Yes, I made some cocoa and got engaged."

"These shoes! They fit perfectly."

"Kill yourself."

"An unintelligent enemy is far less dangerous than an intelligent one, Jamie. Just act stupid...Do you think you can manage that?"

"If I'm ever in need of advice from a psychotic potato dwarf, you'll be the first to know."

"I tolerate this century, but I don't like it."

"I always find violent exercise makes me hungry, don't you agree?"

"If I had crayons and half a can of Spam, I could build you from scratch!"

"I'm the Doctor; I'm worse than everybody's aunt!"

"The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't get through those doors, and believe me, they've tried."

"Self pity is all I have left!"

"Come to Daddy. I mean Mummy. I mean....I really need you right now!"

"An apple a day keeps the....Ah. No, never mind."

"It was the daisiest daisy I'd ever seen."

"Now drop your weapons or I'll kill him with this deadly jelly baby!"

"In my time, I have been threatened by experts, and I don't rate you very highly at all."