#i am becoming increasingly more dyslexic

[crystalitecloudie]

yk I did not expect to like this as much as I did

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand. 

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property. 

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic? 

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater. 

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous. 

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air. 

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this. 

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest. 

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined. 

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor. 

Fellow feels his pants tighten. 

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will. 

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show. 

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks. 

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful. 

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream. 

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes. 

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates. 

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront. 

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll." 

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours." 

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

[femurthief-fen]

REVIEW FOR GOLDEN SON, CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR RED RISING SERIES

**IF YOU’RE READING THIS AND GOING “why did they call ‘Sevro’ Servo??” I am dyslexic and fantasy/sci-fi names always get turned around in my head lmaooo

I have never in my life cried from joy, laughter, and complete despair through 100 pages straight

Rating: 5/5

Honestly this book deserves more than 5 stars in my opinion because holy fuck I have not been this invested in a book since Gideon The Ninth.

Pierce Brown crafts an incredible world filled with diverse and deeply intriguing characters who make you feel for their agony and understand the things they need to do. I already loved Red Rising but Golden Son did something different to me. It was a masterpiece.

The Plot: 5/5

We follow Darrow as he continues his journey through the world of the golds now under the wing of Augustus and fighting desperately for respect among the people who surround him.

“Hic sunt leones. Here be lions.”

Darrow experiences pain, loss, trauma, friendship, mercy, understanding, and love throughout Golden Son with a beautiful story of a man figuring out that what he thought was true is not to be believed, and this theme continues into the second book. Despite his blatant apprehension Darrow finds himself truly loving his gold friends and any other color who brings him joy.

Theodora is a brown who takes care of Darrow and dotes on him constantly and teases him. They have an adorable relationship that proves that Darrow is not only growing fond of the golds, but realizing that all the colors are just people, mislead, dark, dishonest sometimes, but people all the same. This book felt more philosophical to me than Red Rising, it dove more into the idea of "why" we are what we are. Why we do this to each other. The complexity of human morality and loyalty. Are our enemies evil or just mislead?

It is a deeply complex plot with so many interesting stories that show that humanity is far from perfect and things need to change, but people are still people with real pain and real fears.

“We’re all just wounded souls stumbling about in the dark, desperately trying to stitch ourselves together, hoping to fill the holes they ripped in us.”

“There is no morality to him. No goodness. No evil intent when he killed Eo. He believes he is beyond morality. His aspirations are so grand that he has become inhuman in his desperate desire to preserve humanity.”

I love how important friendship and love is in this male and war dominated plot alongside with powerful and ruthless female characters who still have huge personalities. By far the best relationship in the entire book (and series) being that between Darrow and Servo.

Servo is by far my favorite character in the series because oh my god he is incredible. Everything he says makes me laugh or cry or just be genuinely happy hes speaking. I love this goblin child. Every scene between him and Darrow sharing a moment of true sympathy for everything the other is going through felt honest and loving, something we don't see often between male characters.

Characters: 5. out. of. fucking. 5.

I think i could literally scream for hours about how well rounded and complex these characters are. They feel like real people. Messy, broken, and holding onto each other for dear life.

Darrow feels a lot more guilt for the things he does to the golds than he did in the last book. He wonders if he is becoming the very monster he's trying to defeat. Darrow has a subtle shift throughout this entire book from pride and vengeance to almost a repentance and understanding. He keeps people at a distance but he aims to inspire any color to be as eccentric and strong willed as possible.

This is shown most through Ragnar, an obsidian that takes to Darrow after they find him aboard a ship. Darrow does not order him or berate him like the other golds do, he asks Ragnar what he wants out of life. Ragnar becomes increasingly loyal to him as he realizes Darrow is not like the people who tormented him. But still Darrow is aware of his wrongdoings and that the innocent boy in the mines died with Eo. He is no longer a force of pure rage as he was in the first book, but now a calculated, thoughtful, destructive, and powerful leader.

“But that man is gone. I mourn his passing every day. Forgetting more and more of who I was, what dreams I held, what things I loved. The sadness now is numb. And I carry on despite the shadow it casts over me.”

Servo plays an even more prominent role in this book which makes me so fucking happy. He also takes on a complex character arc as he begins to understand what war really means for him and everyone around him. Servo's loyalty to Darrow as his closest friend and his genuine love and acceptance of both sides of Darrow make a beautiful found family/friendship.

“I’m Gold, bitch. What’d you expect? Warm milk and cookies just because I’m pocket-sized?”

Mustang also comes back to remind us she is a genius and a badass and to keep Darrow in line. We begin to realize how torn Mustang is between what she believes and her love for her family. She proves time and time again that she would do anything for her family but not at the cost of destroying the friendships she's built unless absolutely necessary.

Victra is chaotic, sassy, brilliant, and severely underused in this book, I love her.

Lorn, Darrow's tutor is a complicated and wise man who tries to keep Darrow from falling into the same path he did. He has large role in golden son because I think Darrow sees him as the father figure that he lost. And its clear Lorn sees the same familial relationship and love for Darrow.

“A fool pulls the leaves. A brute chops the trunk. A sage digs the roots.”

Augustus,the very man who killed Darrow's wife, is Darrow's Archgoverner and leader. He gives Darrow orders and keeps him at a distance but this develops into one of the most interesting parts of the story. Darrow begins to realize what Augustus is, a man trying to keep order and keep people alive in the only way he was taught how. Darrow doesn't condone what Augustus does of course but he begins to understand the perspective the golds have on life that has been ingrained on them since birth.

“Brutality.” Augustus lets the word hang in the air. “It is neither evil nor good. It is simply an adjective of a thing, an action in this case. What you must parse is the nature of the action.”

Ragnar is the final character I'll talk about because many of the other arcs are developed through major spoilers. Ragnar joins our little crew about halfway through the book. He's a powerful obsidian who takes to Darrow because he sees him almost as a kind and merciful god in the beginning, but a friendship blossoms from their and Darrow places a lot of trust in the tortured yet loving man.

The Gold spits. “You send a dog to do your fighting?” “I am a man!” Ragnar roars louder than the screaming engines of a passing ship.”

Anyways if you haven't tried the red rising series I highly suggest it. Seriously. Its incredible

[tidustargaryen]

Happy Halloween Month !!

Good evening to all my followers ! (French time zone) October always pushes me to look for scary stories to freak me out. I wanted to offer you some stories that I appreciate. Terrifying stories to help you fall asleep tonight ... Forget the fairy tales, they lived happily and had lots of children... Prefer true stories. For resolution and readability concerns, I couldn’t put the text on my edits below, tumblr gave a really ugly resolution and you wouldn’t have managed to read it. The stories are not mine, I will put the links to the videos I watched but they are in French, I only did the translations. If you like it, I will post a story every day or every other day, depending on my availability. I'm sorry for the mistakes, there will surely be plenty, I did what I could ^^ The first story is adapted into a movie, if you are interested, the name is: The haunting in Connecticut .

If you are also interested, I think of a horror story with Daenerys and the Targ family. Don’t hesitate to ask me. I am very motivated but only if it interests people.

This story is part of the Warren files.

Thanks to all my followers 🔥🐉 Long may she reign ! 

Story below, don’t be afraid...

It's 1987, the Snedeker family is touched by a terrible tragedy, one of their son is suffering from cancer. They decide to move to Connecticut, they find this house : The Hallahan House. And without even visiting, they decide to buy it. Upon arriving in front of the house for the first time, Carmen has an anxiety attack, she refuses to enter. Her husband enters the house then comes back looking for her, he asks her to come in a very mysterious way. She then decides to enter and follows him with fear in her stomach.What she discovers will surely have made you move immediately... I will, for sure..

Above each door, there are crosses, as if to prevent evil spirits from entering. There is a strange smell, but more importantly, an embalming room in the basement. They understand that this house was actually a funeral home. The house is equipped with a coffin elevator and they even find old pictures of it. This house doesn't have a good karma.

Unfortunately, they can't go back on their purchase decision, they put all their money into buying this house and the treatment for their son is very expensive. So the father installs all the furniture and then returns to New York for his work, leaving his wife and children behind.

The nightmare is about to begin...

 Just before the father leaves, they decide to hide the embalming room behind a heavy bookcase, making sure the children don't know about it. They are installed in the basement for their sleep without having any idea what this house used to be like. 

Then the problems begin.

One night, while she was doing the dishes, Carmen sees a silhouette appear and jumps, her sick son, Philip, whispers to her that they must leave this house immediately and never come back because he heard someone calling him. He adds that there is something evil here.

Carmen decides not to say anything, not wanting to upset her son, already exhausted by his cancer.

Soon the children discover the room hidden behind the library and decide to explore the place. What they discover there is just horrible.

In the room, there is a small gate leading to a dark tunnel. They crouch down and decide to crawl through it. They discover strange stains on the walls, dark, slimy...

Blood...

They scream to death and leave the tunnel to go warn their mother. She gets angry and doesn't go to check the room, not taking them seriously.

 She should have listened to her children...

 At the same time, some crosses, the ones hanging above the doors, are beginning to disappear. Carmen thinks that her children are making fun of her, but will quickly understand that they have nothing to do with this...

One evening, Philip tells her that he sees ghosts and hears voices whispering in his ears. Still in denial, she thinks that his treatment is causing him hallucinations, side effects that make him think he sees and hears things that are actually unreal. Once again, she doesn't believe him.

One night, Philip wakes up one of his brothers and shows him a spot in the room, telling him there are four men sitting in the corner. The two children then claim to have seen two hooded figures walking around the room and then turning suddenly towards them.

Again, their mother doesn't believe it.

The crosses continue to disappear again and despite this, she still doesn't believe it.

Philip suddenly decides to move into the embalming room without giving any explanation. His behavior had changed, he had been quieter, strange, for several months.

Carmen then decides to invite her children's cousins to spend a few days together.

While she was helping with the housework, one of the cousins found a small black notebook hidden under Philip's mattress. The boy seems to be writing in it regularly. Without thinking, she shows the notebook to her aunt. Carmen is horrified by what she discovers in it.

The texts she reads talk about death, murders and other horrible things. But her son can't have written this on his own because he's dyslexic. But the words used are complex and very well written. A language that her son cannot know.

She then asks her son for an explanation and he replies that the man helped him write it...

But this is not the worst. Madly worried, she then discovers scars all over her son's body, signs of witchcraft, pentagrams, and other strange mystical representations. Once again, she asks him for explanations :

 "An entity asks me to do this..."

This time Carmen is afraid. And things are getting worse...

One of the two cousins argues with Philip and he pushes her against the wall with an impressive force. But Philip is sick, and his treatment weakens him, he can’t do this...

Carmen becomes more and more worried as the girl explains that she is increasingly harassed in this house. She explains that the blanket of her bed is pulled and thrown on the floor while she sleeps, she also feels that someone is pulling on her bra strap sometimes.

Carmen suspects her son and thinks he’s going crazy. She decides to have him interned.

The poor boy is taken to the nearest psychiatric hospital and locked in a room under a straitjacket. And as his mother is about to leave the room, he says :

 "Now that I'm gone, they're going to come after you... "

 Carmen's fear intensifies when she discovers that it's now her niece who is going crazy. The girl screams at night, claiming that someone is approaching her bed.

But this time, Carmen sees a hand under her niece's pajamas.  She can clearly see the bones of the hand moving up the girl's body. Panic grips both women.

They quickly go to the living room but an icy cold invaded the room and a smell of death took over the place.

Both of them feel the presence of an entity around them. So, they begin to pray.

The girl feels something touching her neck. She discovers that her rosary floats between her and her aunt. For a few minutes, it floats... and suddenly... it explodes...

The beads of the rosary end up all scattered on the ground, leaving the two women terrorized by fear, unable to move.  And then, for several minutes, nothing more happens. Carmen then decides to take a shower to relax.

 Have you seen the movie 'Psycho'?

 …

 After a few seconds underwater, the shower curtain is held tightly against her, wrapping around her, preventing her from breathing. She screams so loudly that her niece is alerted. She arrives quickly to help her aunt. And without her intervention, Carmen would probably have choked to death.

The girl inspects the room but sees no one.

Carmen then decides to call the Warrens, a couple who investigate paranormal cases.

When they arrive home, Carmen explains to them everything she, her children and nieces have witnessed since they arrived. She also recounts seeing two men, very powerful according to her. One of them was thin, with long black hair and eyes. The other has white hair and bright white eyes. Both wear striped suits.

They discover that the funeral home is still in operation...

 It took the Warrens almost two months to 'clean' the house’. During this time, they are violently attacked by ghosts.

The investigation, dating from 1988, reveals that the employees of this funeral home practiced necromancy in the basement of the house, thus attracting the spirits that haunted the Snedekers.

 The family then left the place a year later and never returned.

 Don't play with death... and most importantly, if you buy a house, visit it before.

A true story.

On Youtube in French.

[talpup]

Lost Song: 4

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.  For full list of story tags or to read on AO3 check the link at the top of my tumblrs homepage.

Sorry if there’s a drop in quality.  I really mean it when I say I write for myself, and edit and post to share with you all.  Being dyslexic I spend almost as much time editing and polishing my fics for posting as I do actually writing.  It’s become to feel like a job that leaves me disappointed when I don’t get many comments or interaction from you all.  That’s NOT on you.  That’s on me.  Which is why I’m making the change to just enjoy what I do and forget about editing.

4.1

It had been a little over a month since his life had been turned upside down by the two Foundlings who had joined his Ilca.  Thankfully the two had been self sufficient adults before arriving so all Shouta had to worry about was the rest.  Problem was the rest was Oblvi.  An entirely new world to Teris and Hizashi.  A new world that was filled with Fourth's.  Fourth's that would either revere Teris or call for her head, if not seek to end her themselves, if they learned she was a Griffon.

As much as Shouta hated it, Nedzu was right.  The only way to save Teris and keep the peace was for her and Kai to build a friendship that would hold even after the Dragon learned she was a Griffon.  In a closed loop thought, the idea made sense.  But it would never work in real life.  Shouta knew Kai.  He knew dragons.  No matter what sort of ties Kai made with Teris, they would be severed the instant he learned she was a Griffon.

Back a forth Shouta went.  Hoping for the best.  Planning for the worst. He would protect her no matter what.  She was his.

Exhausted as he was, he didn’t catch the mental slip and correct the thought; instead blinking heavy, tired eyes as he stared at Teris from across the table.  With the arrival of her and Hizashi, his already precarious sleep schedule had been thrown into a tailspin.  The line of his mouth twitch ever so slightly upward at the memory of finding Teris in his bed her first night here.  He wouldn’t mind finding her in there again.

Shouta frowned.  Yes he would.  She was a tiresome, too proud, confrontational woman.  He could make her submit, he thought lazily looking her over.  It would be a honor and pleasure to earn his beautiful, proud Griffons submission.  Not his Griffon!  And, no. No, it wouldn't be a pleasure or honor.

“Quit staring at me.”  Teris snapped at the Sphinx, scowling at the weird dreamy, disturbed look on his face.  When she had first met Shouta a little over a month ago, she hadn’t thought the Sphinx could look worse.  But she had been wrong.  The whites of his eyes were so bloodshot that they were more red than white.  The dark bags beneath his eyes impossibly darker and bigger than the night they met.  She was growing increasingly concerned about him.  Though that concern was purely on a professional and humane level.  Bossy and rude as he was, he was a person and her Ilca leader.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Shouta’s deep, graveled voice sounded calm, if not bored.  “I’m not staring at you.”

“Yes you are.”  Teris argued.

Such a contrary woman, Shouta thought.  Why was everything always a fight with her?  He slouched back in his seat, voice as expressionless as his face.  “I was looking forward.  You’re the one who chose to sit in front of me.”

“This is where I always sit.”

From his place to Teris’ right, Hizashi looked between the two, chewing. He hated when the two argued.  And they argued basically all the time.

“And this is where I always sit.  Quit being a child.  Not everything is about you.”

Teris bristled at the Sphinx’s words.  “I am not a child!”

Shouta fought down a smirk at her temper.  She had such fire.  “Then stop acting like one and eat your breakfast.”

Her mouth opened.

“Now.” Shouta cut her off before a single utterance came out.  “I’m too tired for this today.”

It wasn’t the order that made Teris hold her tongue but the mention of his exhaustion.  She truly was getting worried about him.  How much sleep did a Sphinx need?  And how much of it could they go without before it effected more than their mood and appearance but their health as well?  Maybe she should ask Kai.

“So Oboro thinks he’s narrowed down what other half of Fourth I might be but refuses to tell me.”  Hizashi said, looking to defuse things.

Something to do with talking, Shouta thought.  No voice.  Or maybe song.  Damn he was so tired, he couldn’t even think straight.  A Siren maybe?

“You like him.”  Teris drew out, teasing her follow Foundling friend.

“What!”

“Too loud.”  Shouta complained at Hizashi's outburst.  Definitely some spirit or spite that had volume of voice.

Teris glared at the Shouta.

“No I don’t.”  Hizashi shook his head, green eyes wide.

“Come on, Zashi.  It’s alright.”  She turned to Shouta unsure how same sex relations were viewed in this world.  “It’s alright?  Isn’t it?”

Shouta closed his eyes and nodded.

“See.” She smiled at Hizashi.

Hizashi smiled shyly in return.  “He is really cute.  And so nice and smart.  I want you to meet him.”

Teris nodded thinking the same.  Glad as she was that this Oboro made Hizashi happy, she had to make sure he was really alright.  Hizashi was--  Pack beast.  The term flinted through her mind.  She glanced at Shouta hating to admit that he was right.  Whatever she was she apparently was a pack beast because Hizashi was hers.  Not in a romantic sense, but in a tie that was just as deep, if not deeper than family.

“What about you?”  Hizashi asked.  “Kai have any idea on what you might be yet?”

Shouta's head lifted, muscles tensing.

Teris shook her head.

Shouta relaxed, exhaling the breath that had caught in his chest.

Hizashi pouted, but his smile quickly returned.  “Speaking of liking people.  What about you?”

“What about me?”  Teris asked, fully aware of what Hizashi was asking.

The blonde glanced at Shouta well aware that the heated tension between the Sphinx and Teris had nothing to do with distaste.  “You know.”

Teris pointedly avoided looking at the man seated across from her.  “No. I don’t.”

“Come on Ris!  Is there anyone you like?”

“No.”

“No? No one?”  Hizashi pressed, eyes darting back to Shouta.

“What are you, twelve?”  Shouta griped.

Teris frowned at Shouta’s complaint.  Hizashi was just being playful. Why was the man such an ass?

“Kai’s kind and handsome.”  She told Hizashi, eyes still locked on the Sphinx.

Shouta’s dark gaze sharpened, heckles raised.  A low growl bubbled deep within his chest but he fought it down.  Huffing, he pushed back the chair and got to his feet.  What did he care what she wrongly thought of Kai?  “You should quit talking nonsense and finish up.”

Hizashi’s slightly pointed ears fell a fraction watching the Sphinx exit their dorms dining hall.

“He’s talking to you.”  Teris told, stabbing at a piece of fruit on the plate before her.

Unlike Kai, Oboro taught a specialized class for the Ilca course.  Though he didn’t teach everyday, the days that he did Shouta and Hizashi left together to walk to the campus part of Traverseen Hall.

Hizashi not wanting to make Aizawa wait and Teris eager to get to Kai’s, the two quickly finished breakfast.

Near the front door, Hizashi slipped on his coat and turned to Teris. “I’m still bummed that Kai won’t let you come to campus to see Aizawa and Kan’s classes square off this afternoon.  Oboro says it should be a good learning experience.”

“So am I.  But Kai said he has something planned for me today.”

Coming up behind Hizashi, Shouta tossed his coat at Teris harder than intended.  It landed perfectly over her head and hung there.

Hizashi's hand clapped over his mouth, caught between surprise and sputtering laughter.

Shouta bristled both wondering and imagining what sort of plans the Dragon had for his-- His mind paused and carefully finished the last part of the thought. --Ilca member.

Teris yanked the dark blue coat off her head.  “What the hell!”

“Put that on.  It’s cold out.”

“No.” She growled, hating Shouta’s impassive face.

“You’re my responsibility.  Put it on so you don’t get sick.”  And Kai remembers who you belong to, he silently finished wishing he could properly scent her.  “And don’t forget it at Chisaki’s.  I want it back.”

“Than take it back!”  Teris called after him holding out the jacket.  But Shouta had already exited the dorm.  She turned back to Hizashi.  “Do you believe him?”

Hizashi smiled, buttoning up his coat.  “I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Doubt he even knows the meaning of the word.  He’s--”

“Yamada!” Shouta’s voice snapped from down the hall.

“Coming!” Hizashi yelled back.  He gave Teris one last small smile.  “Gotta go.  See ya later.”

“Yeah.”

Left alone Teris frowned at the coat that was far too big for her.

“Rude, bossy bastard.”  She muttered thinking about the dark haired Sphinx.

She put on the jacket, shoulders easing at the enveloping scent.  Without thinking she pulled the collar to her nose and buried her face in the weighty material, breathing deeply.

4.2

Kai sniffed as soon as Teris entered the office, immediately noticing Aizawa’s scent on her.  It wasn’t some weak smell that was left on her from merely living in the same Ilca dorm as the Sphinx.  Nor was it the same as Aizawa's previous lame attempts to scent her. This one was overwhelming.  Encompassing.

His jaw locked shut fighting back a growl.  Though successful, there was little he could do to stop the smoke that billowed from his nostrils.

“Good morning, Kai.”  Teris slipped the jacket off, leaving it on the chair by the door, but the damage was done.  Aizawa's scent had infused into her skin and clothes.

“Outside.” Kai ordered, getting to his feet.

“I thought--”

“I said outside.”  Kai’s hard, shimmering eyes softened at her openly confused, almost hurt expression.  It wasn’t her fault that Aizawa had done this, taking advantage of her lack of understanding. If he told her, she would no doubt be furious.  But telling her what Aizawa had done would mean letting her know that he had been doing the same, and he wasn’t ready for that.  “I know we always start with academic lessons but it’s best not to get into routines.”

Agreeing with that Teris turned back to Aizawa's jacket and picked it up.

“Leave that.”  Kai snapped moving to her.  He stopped so close beside her that his chest brushed her arm.  “I got my own way of keeping you warm.”

Teris shivered at the innuendo.

Kai’s gold eyes glided over her as she placed the horrid coat back down.

She jumped when his cool hand pressed against the lower end of her lower back.

Undeterred, Kai’s hand remained.  “Shall we?”

4.3

“Shouta, you look terrible.”

Shouta grunted at Nemuri's remark, wishing he were napping in his sleeping bag instead of getting ready to watch his class face 1-B in a training challenge.

“I told you, you need to get more sleep.  You work too hard.”  Nemuri frowned at the Sphinx in worry.

“I have two unwanted Ilca members who happen to be Foundlings.” Shouta said as if they were the sole cause for his lack of sleep.

Calling him on his bad habits, Nemuri crossed her arms.  “You were overworked and overtired well before they came along.”

Eyes closed, the Sphinx hummed.  His head dipped forward then jerked back up, startling awake.

“That’s it.  I’m coming over tonight. ��If you won’t sleep on you own, I’ll put you to sleep.”

“Kayama.” Shouta complained.

“No sense arguing.  I’ll even bring dinner.  It’ll give me a chance to met this other Ilca member of yours.”  The Dryad said thinking about what Oboro had said about Hizashi mentioning how Shouta and the woman argued.  She turned away, tapping him awake on the shoulder. “See you later.”

4.4

Teris panted, getting to her feet.  The line of fire Kai had created when they first got started making her sweat all the more. Kai was magnificent in his dragon form.  He wasn’t so bad in his human one either, she thought and quickly cursed the distracting thought, rolling out of the way of the Dragons lashing tail.

“Focus.” Kai’s voice spoke directly into her him.

The first time it had happen Teris had freaked out.  After settling down she had worried that talking into her mind also meant he could hear her thoughts.  But thankfully that wasn’t the case.

Kai’s gold eyes and scales reflected the the fire line of fire.  His dark purple underbelly barely catching the light.  His coloring showed his heritage, or so some of his followers told.  According to them, his solid gold scales, horns, and wings meant that he was the son of the king of dragons; making him the rightful heir even if he wasn’t the last of dragon king.

Teris leapt to her feet lasso in hand. The goal of the game was to evade and persevere long enough to capture any part of the powerful Dragon.  Given his size it should’ve been ease.  But Kai was quick.  His movement changing from sharp and fluid without any sort of tell or pattern.  She tossed and missed.  Cursing her slow speed and his quick.

Kai stomped and charged. He was holding himself back greatly.  Slowing his speed, using minimal strength.  The goal was to train, not to hurt or break her spirit. He also hoped that fighting her in his true form would further encourage the show of her true form.  Aside form a few directing hints, such as her being a pact beast, he still had no clue what she was and dearly wanted to no.

His growing fondness for her had gotten to the point that he had decided to being courting.  Not that he would tell her as much.  It wasn’t that he feared rejection.  He was a handsome, proud dragon of royal blood. There wasn’t another species or person who was more desirable than he.  Still, he didn’t want to scare her off.  She was new to Oblvi and their ways.

He blew heated ash her way a low rumbling growl of pleasure when ducked down and covered her face with a protecting arm.  Now for the pounce, he thought heart hammering with excitement. He moved, shifting back to human form as he did so and was on her in an instance.

Teris fell back with a huff.

“Got you.  You’re mine.” Kai declared, heart pumping more from the nearness of her than the training session that barely exerted him.

Teris stared up at him panting.  “No fair!”

Hands on either side of her, propping himself up, Kai lowered his face further to hers.  “How so?”

“You said that the lesson would be over when I gave up or caught you.” She told, face feeling a hundred times hotter than it did seconds earlier.

“You were talking too long.  I grew impatient and decided to catch you instead.”

“But--”

“I’m the instructor.  I can change the rules whenever I like.”  Kai declared, thinking he could also take whatever he liked but would be patient. His eyes scanned over her face, a frown pulling at his lips.

“What?”

“You’re dirty.”

“We’ve been sparring for how many hours?  Of course I am.”

He got up off her, frowning at his soiled shirt.  “We can’t do lessons like this.”

“It was your bright idea to switch things up.”

He moved to hold his hand out to help her up and paused.  She was covered in ash.  His ash.  This was his doing.  His hand thrust out.

Teris took it, grateful for the assistance.  Fighting a dragon was exhausting.  She couldn’t wait till her true form displayed itself.

Kai instinctive pulled his hand from hers as soon as she was up.  Wiping his palm on his pant leg, he directed her back inside.  “Let’s get you clean.”

“Clean? Good as that sounds it won’t do much good.  My clothes are just as filthy and I’d be putting them back on.”

Kai frowned a moment then smiled slightly.  If Aizawa wanted to send her here in his coat then he would send her back wearing his clothes.

Hand hovering at her lower back he ushered her in doors already thinking which shirt of his he wanted to see her in.  “Then I suppose we’ll just have to find you something else to wear for the rest of the day.”

4.5

Teris entered her Ilca dorms to find they had company.  Boisterous company.

“There she is!”  Oboro rushed to her as if they were long time friend’s and not two people who had never met.  He paused seeing the over-sized button-up under the jacket she wore.  “Hey, sharp shirt. A little big dontcha think?”

The Venti’s words and arm were slung over her before her hair had even settled down from the wind of his swift travel.  Before she could respond or ask who he was, Oboro was leading her into her Ilca’s dining room.

“Nemuri. Emi.  Kan.  This is Teris.  Hizashi's friend and Shou’s--” Oboro turned to the Sphinx.  “What is she to you again?”

“My… Ilca member.”  Shouta grumbled, pausing to think the correct words before saying them.

“Right.” Oboro drew out, smiling.

“Leave Aizawa alone, Sweetheart.  You know he’s extra grumpy when he’s lacking his usual minimal sleep.”  Nemuri chastised lightly.

“He’s only grumpy cause we haven’t gone out on a date.  What da ya say, Aizawa?  Wanna go out?”  Emi asked, all smiles.

Teris bristled, sharp eyes locking on the smiling woman.  Who was she and why was she here?

“No.” Shouta answered shortly.

Emi laughed, hand slapping the table as if his rejection was the funniest thing.  “Ah, Aizawa!  You’re such a kidder.”

Teris looked back to Oboro wondering who he was.  Thankfully Hizashi was there to answer her silent wondering since neither Aizawa or the man himself seemed inclined.

“Ris. This is Oboro.  The one I’ve been telling you about.”  Hizashi beamed before her.

“You’ve been telling her about me?”  Oboro moved to Hizashi, face close enough for Hizashi to see the slight fraying of the bandage he worn on the bridge of his nose.  “What have you told her about me? Nothing bad I hope.”

“No.” Hizashi squeaked emerald eyes wide like saucers.  If he just leaned forward just a little he could…

“It’s been nothing but good.”  Teris told, smirking at her friend.

Oboro turned back to her.  “Really!  Cause I like him too.”

“You do?”  Hizashi questioned, heart hammering in his ears.  He had hoped Oboro liked him.  It seemed as if he liked him.  But he never imagined the guy just coming out and saying it like that.  He remembered the Venti telling him how Fourth’s were freer with things like relationships than humans were, and smiled.  That smile fell as soon as Kan spoke.

“You like everyone, Oboro.”  The Vampuric Gargoyle rumbled.

Shouta chuckled at that.

Teris’ eyes widened.  She had seen Shouta smile less than a handful of times and never heard him laugh.  She had seriously begun to wonder if sphinx's were capable of doing so.  She found herself moving to sit next to the large, red eyed man that had achieved such a fete.

“Teris.” Teris introduced.

“Kan.” Kan said.  He caught a clear mix of dragon and sphinx scent on her and glance over at Shouta.  Were the two sleeping together?  It would explain the Sphinx’s added lack of sleep.  But Kai’s scent?  Aizawa and the Dragon hated each other.  There was no way the two would share anything let alone companion.  Kan was, dare he say friend's with Emi and Oboro, and he could barely stand sharing Nemuri with them.

More exhausted than anyone had the right to be, Shouta didn’t even bother looking as Teris sat across from him.  He breathed in a tired breath and stopped, a loud growl sounding from his chest.  Chisaki was here?  Why did no one tell him the damned Dragon was in his dorms!  Fathomless dark eyes, turned fierce and red.  Head snapping up.

“Shouta, hunny?  Are you alright?”  Nemuri questioned from Kan’s right.

Eyes still searching, his nose traced the smell it was…  It was coming from Teris.  More correctly it was all over Teris.  Another growl rumbled from his chest, lip twitching up in a snarl, he turned slowly to the woman seated across from him.

“What did I do now!”  Teris demanded as soon as the Sphinx’s eyes locked on hers.  “I brought back you’re stupid jacket.”

Jacket! Kan thought.  He had known Aizawa would never share with the Dragon.

With a blink Shouta's eyes returned to their usual coal.  He forced his lips into a thin line, effecting an expression of disinterested indifference.  “What happen to your clothes?”

“They were dirty.”  Teris answered, her own expression between a pout and a scowl.  Why was he always like this?  Couldn’t he just try and be nice for once?  At least in front of the company they had.

Looking her over Shouta sat back and crossed his arms.  “I thought you said you were having physical lessons daily.”

“I did.  We are!”  What was it about this man that got under her skin so?

“If this is the first time you needed a change, those lessons were worthless.  I’ll see about having Nedzu find you a better instructor.”

“No!” Teris’ loud response surprised even her.

The lower half of Shouta's face ducked into his capture weapon, finding his frown.

“I mean.”  Teris went on.  “You’ve seen the state I’m in when I get back.  It’s only Kai decided to change things up and do my physical training in the morning.”

To get my scent off you, Shouta thought.  Smart.  And then he sent you back in his clothes to retaliate.  Such a jealous, child move.

“Kai has a thing about filth. Kan said, taking up his plate and serving.

“Kan! Sweetheart.  Wait for everyone to be seated.”  Nemuri scolded lightly.

“The food’s getting cold.”  At Nemuri's expression, Kan put the serving spoon down and snapped.  “Oboro!  Will you and your boyfriend hurry it up and sit so we can eat.”

“Bo-boy--” Hizashi's stutter ended with a squeak as Oboro pulled him to the table.  He swallowed, finding himself seated across from Nemuri, while Oboro took the chair to Shouta's left.  “Hi again.”  Oboro assured him the Dryad was find, but for some reason she made him nervous.  Like she would eat him alive.  And not in the monstrous literal sense.  That he could've handled.

Once served the table was blessedly quite as everyone ate.  Until…

“Hey, Aizawa, wanna mate?”

Shouta groaned.  Why did life itself seem to hate him?

Teris turned to the woman to her left.  “Who are you again?”

“Emi.” Emi said.  “I’m part of Nemuri's Ilca.”

“We all are.”  Oboro informed, brushing elbows with Hizashi and smiling over at him.

Never taking her eyes off the woman, Teris questioned without a care for how rude the query was.  “And what are you?”

“A Kitsune.” Emi told easily.  She put the side of her hand to her mouth and leaned to Teris as if about to reveal some great secret.  “Though many consider it impolite to asked, so be careful.”  Dropping her hand she went on.  “Nemuri’s a Dryad, trained by His Purple Highness before joining the Ilca course way back.”

“It wasn’t that way back.”  Nemuri told.

Shouta huffed in amusement.  Nemuri was a young beautiful Dryad.  Would stay looking young a beautiful until her end, but age was still thing for her.

“His who?”  Teris questioned.

“His Purple Highness.”  Emi answered.

Teris blinked at the Kitsune and shook her head.

“Oh right!  I forgot you don’t know anything.”

“I know plenty.  Teris said.

Emi laughed.  “Sure you do.”

The way she laughed and spoke left Teris teetering, unsure if she was being sarcastic or agreeing.

“His Purple Highness is the Dryad King.”  Shouta supplied, when Emi continued to laugh.

“Shouta was found by him.”  Nemuri told, smiling softly at the Sphinx.

“Found?” Teris echoed, eyes on Shouta.

Shouta shook away her question.  “A tale for another day.  Back to proper introductions.”  He went on, wanting Teris to learn all she could. “As I’m sure Yamada told you, Oboro’s a Venti.  And Kan is a Vampuric Gargoyle.

Teris turned to the hulking man to her right.  “Vampuric Gargoyle  As in a hybrid of vampire and gargoyle?”

She didn’t know why she found it strange that vampires existed here when all the rest seemed to.  But gargoyles?  Weren’t they just gothic stone sculptures that acted as both rain gutters and superstitious protectors?

Shouta smirked at her reaction, though no one saw it beneath his capture weapon.  “They’re a demon hybrid so prevalent they’re all but a sub-species. Shouta told.

“We’re good breeders.”

The table quieted at Kan’s comment.  Then Emi covered her mouth, sputtering a laugh.  Oboro joined in.

“I wasn’t joking.”  Kan snapped.

“We know, Honey.  I know.  If ever I was ready to spawn, we would make so many children.”  Nemuri soothed, petting Kan’s arm.

“Aizawa and I would make beautiful kits and cubs.”  Emi said dreamily, turning to Shouta.

“No.” Shouta deadpanned.

Teris bristled more at the way Kitsune was looking at the Sphinx than what she had said.  Clearly Shouta wasn’t interested.  But Shouta was--

Nemuri's smooth voice disturbed her thoughts. “Emi.  Please stop trying to mate with Shouta.  At least for tonight, Love. He’s extremely tired.”

“All the more reason for me to try.  He might say yes.”

“He’s not interested, Sweetheart.”

Emi looked over at Oboro sitting closer than necessary to Hizashi as the two talk among themselves.  “Speaking of interested.  Looks like someone is. Too bad the Foundlings weren’t put in our Ilca.”  She glance from Hizashi to Teris.  “We would’ve had so much fun.”

“Shouta’s been so long without anyone.  I’m glad he finally has these two.” Nemuri leaned forward to smile at Teris.

Emi’s green eyes turned back to Shouta. “Aizawa could've joined out Ilca too.  I gladly would've accepted him.”

“Shouta’s an alpha, Dear.  An apex one at that.  He wouldn’t be joining my or anyone elses Ilca.  He was meant to lead.  Though if he were interested, I would gladly share you with him.  Just like I’d gladly share Oboro with Hizashi if he wishes.”

“What was that?” Hizashi asked catching his name being said.

“I said I would gladly share Oboro with you, if you so wish?”  Nemuri said, turning to him.

Hizashi's slightly pointed ears lowered a fraction.  He didn’t understand. Could they not date without their Ilca leaders approval?  He shook is head.  “I—don’t know what you mean by share.”

“Oboro! I thought you were suppose to be instructing him.”  Nemuri censured as if scandalized.

“Yeah, Oboro.”   Emi giggled.

“He’s new here.  I had to teaching him the basics first.”  Oboro told.

“What could be more basic than sex?”  Nemuri questioned, archly.

“How not to get killed.”  Shouta offered.

“How to fight.”  Kan put in.

“Or how to help a Isengrim get one over on a Reynard.”  Emi added.

“All of you are hopeless and unromantic.  Nemuri declared.  Her blue eyes fell on Shouta.  “No wonder you’re having such troubles.”

“Can someone please tell about this shared business? Hizashi demanded.

“Oh, well that’s easy.”  Emi said.  “We’re all together.  Well, except for Kan.  He’s just with Nemuri.”

“All--”

“--together.” Teris finished for Hizashi glancing at Shouta before looking around the table.

Emi nodded.  “Yeah.  Nemuri, Oboro, and I are together.  And Kan and Nemuri are companion’s.”

Before Teris could ask how that worked, Hizashi fixed sad green eyes on Oboro.  “Does that mean you’re not into men?”

“What! No!  I’m into anyone so long as I like ‘em.”  Oboro assured.

“It’s Kan.”  Nemuri told. “Though mating type Fourth's will usually sleep around as they search for a mate.  Once they’ve picked mate, that carousing ends.”

“So… He’s picked you for a mate.”  Teris said softly.

Nemuri smiled sadly.  “He has.”

“But you haven’t accepted him?”  She asked.

“Dryad’s aren’t maters.”  Shouta schooled.

“We accept all pollinators, whether we’re spawning or not.”  Nemuri expanded, hand over Kan’s.

Teris lowered her head, sad for the Vampuric Gargoyle.  She couldn’t explain it but that thought of having chosen a mate only to have that person accept you as a lover but not a mate, hurt like a physical wound.

Emi saw her reaction and burst out.  “You’re a mater!”

With a start, Teris realized that she was, though didn’t know enough to have that narrow anything down for her.  She looked to Shouta for answer.

“Most beasts mate.”  Shouta told.  “It’s no great revelation that will tell us what you are.”  Damn, he hated not telling her.

Disappointed, Teris turned to Emi.  “Does it hurt that you want to mate with Shouta and he doesn’t?  If you want that how can you be with anyone else?”

The last question held a tone of accusation, but Emi easily ignored that in her excitement to teach. “Kitsune’s are one of the rare species that cross the four divisions.  We’re both beast and demon.”

“You’re hybrids.

“Once. Very long ago.”

“Kitsune’s date back to the first age.”  Shouta said, eyes keenly watching to make sure Teris knew about the Ages and Kai was properly instructing her.

Picking her explanation back up, Emi went on.  “Demons don’t care about mating.  As Aizawa said, most beast do.  It means Kitsune are capable of mating but are driven to the way, say a Sphinx or Manticore are.”

“But you do like men?”  Hizashi asked Oboro, his mind and voice finally working again.

4.6

Jacket and bottle of Nemuri's pollen in hand, Shouta made his way to his quarters grateful that his Ilca dorms were finally, peaceful quite. Taking off his capture weapon, he blinding tossed the coat he had had Teris wear on a chair.  Hearing a clink hit the floor, he turned.

A knife!  Adrenaline shot through him, his exhaustion and Nemuri's pollen forgotten.  Picking up the small, sheathed blade, he stormed from his rooms and to Teris’.

Already in bed, Teris would've ignored the insentient hammering on her door if she thought it would go away.  With a growl, she threw the covers off and got out of bed.

Knowing full well who was on the other side, Teris yanked opened the chamber door, snapping. “What the hell!”

“Has he threatened you?  Made you feel unsafe?”

Her face screwed up.  “What?”

“Chisaki. What has he done to make you feel you need carry a weapon to his place?”  He was going to kill him, Shouta thought.  He wasn’t a killer, but he was going to end that Dragon.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Hearing the disturbance, Hizashi poked his head outside his rooms. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Teris soothed.

“No.”

Trusting the seasoned Sphinx and Ilca leader over Teris, Hizashi stepped out into the hall.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing that concerns you.  Go back to bed.”  Shouta ordered.  Sighing he pushed his way inside Teris’ rooms.

“Hey!” Teris turned.  “I didn’t say you could come in here.”

“Do you really want to concern Hizashi more than he already is?”

Teris frowned and shook her head.

Pack beasts, Shouta thought smugly, ignoring the fact that he was one too and just as easily manipulated.

“Close the door.  And tell me why you feel the need to carry this to Kai’s.” Shouta said, producing the small knife.

Teris’ eyes widened at the sight of it.  Swinging the door closed she rushed to Shouta.  “Where did you find that?”

“Answer my questions.  What has Kai done--”

“Kai’s done nothing.  He gave me that.”

Shouta's head pulled back.  “He--  When?”

“Today. I guess I forgot about it what with the company and all.”  She said, feeling guilty for having forgotten Kai’s generous gift.

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  “Why did you he it to you?”

“Cause he’s kind and cares.  He said that he understood as a Foundling I likely had nothing but a few rusted old weapons and outdated potions in my personal armory so he gave me that.”

Shouta's head lowered to frown into his capture weapon, forgetting he had taken it off.

“What’s with the face?”

He pulled his lips back up into a thin, tight line  “Nothing.”

“He’s teaching me how to fight with various weapons.”  She informed, thinking that the expression had been because he thought she didn’t know how to use the blade and inadvertently hurt herself of others.

Shouta couldn’t deny that Kai teaching her how to handle various weapons was smart.  With Teris having yet shown her true form, she would be reliant on use of weapons to defend herself and others.  Soon she and Hizashi would be going out a patrols with him; and with a poorly stocked armory, such an item as the one he held would be useful. Still, he knew the knife for what it truly was.  The quality of it alone…  Dragons liked such fine, rare, and expensive objects.  For Kai to part with on willingly could only mean one thing.  It was a courting gift.  The Dragon was trying to court his--

“Can I have it back?”

Shouta started at her open hand wanting to say no, knowing he couldn’t. He handed the gift over.

Teris clutched it to her chest.  “If that’s all.”

Shouta nodded.

“Night, then.”

“Good night.”  Shouta murmured, watching her turn away trusting he’d see himself out.

He burned at the gift.  Boiled at her coming back each day smelling like Chisaki.  She was his.  His responsibility, he corrected.  She was a griffon.  Kai a dragon.  And now Kai was courting her.  The urge to seek out Nedzu and tell him so the Director could put a stop to this was overwhelming.  But he knew what Nedzu would say.  Knew the Director would be pleased.  Nedzu would think that if the two were courting that Kai would accept Teris when he discovered she was a griffon.  But Shouta knew better.

Maybe if he could prove that Kai was a lacking teacher.  But Shouta wanted the best for Teris and Fourth's learned best when taught by their own.  No species was closer linked to griffons than sphinx's and dragons, griffons being the first hybrids born of dragons and sphinx's at the very start of the first age.  He just hoped that Kai wasn’t infecting her with his hate for what he saw as lesser species.  Or telling her how bad griffons were and teaching her to hate herself.

Lack of sleep had me doing a little playlist that goes with either a particular character or upcoming scene:

It's Like You're Always On My Mind – Pomplamoose (Hizashi and Oboro)

Red Right Hand – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Kai)

Weighty Ghost – Wintersleep (Kan)

Start Wearing Purple – Gogol Bordello (Who else but His Purple Highness! lol  This song never fails to have me dancing and singing along. Singing BADLY I might add.)

I Will Survive + Maroon 5 Mashup – Pomplamoose ft. Andie Case (upcoming scene)

Drumming Song – Florence and The Machine (Shouta and Teris)

Take Me To Church – Hozier (Shouta)

Comments really do make happy, make my day, and are something I go back and read.  That said, I don’t need them to be happy.  So if you enjoy this update and want to comment or interact with me YAY!  If you don’t that’s fine too. Thanks for reading.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230​  who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

[summerseachild]

I also powerwatched GoT Season 2...

I stopped pretending I was only going to have three things to say about each episode.  

2x01

1. Sandor backing Sansa’s “it’s bad luck to kill someone on your birthday” play is SMOOTH. He has her back and I kind of love it????

2. BRAN WARGING! Back when this show cared about magical/fantasy elements that weren’t the dragons.

3. Ugh Theon’s idealism when he offers to go to his family for Robb stabs me right through the heart. (Also he likes calling Robb “Your Grace” A LOT and it makes me cackle and then want to go read fic.)

2x02

1. Cersei asking after Jaime while everyone else looks awkward gives me joy.

2. Gilly!!!! She’s so darling. And so is Sam. And Jon’s “Hello Gilly. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” makes me giggle. What stellar delivery.

3. Theon returning to Pyke is so sad and the castle on Pyke looks SO COOL. (And Yarra keeping a straight face during that horse ride makes me smile just as much as Balon Greyjoy makes me furious.)

4. Bonus: Gendry telling Arya he knows she’s a girl is precious. In fact every second they are on screen are so cute it should be illegal.

5. Bonus bonus: John saw a white walker (Or was that a wight?) Pick up a baby at Craster’s in SEASON FUCKING TWO. How did they so thoroughly fuck up that arc?

2x03

1. This episode was written by Bryan Cogman and directed by Alik Sakharov; which means I was going to love it because Cogman cared a lot about the story and the books, and Sakharov did one of my favorite director commentaries I’ve ever listened to.

2. Brienne’s intro is so great. She is such SERIOUS BUSINESS. Renly genuinely smiling and being happy to have her around :....( he would have been a good king.

3. THEON’S FACE WHEN HE SAYS YOUR LAST BOY JUST LEAVE ME HERE also THAT SHOT OF THEON HIS FACE LIT BY THE BURNING LETTER AND ALL ELSE IN DARKNESS AKDHWISJHSJJSSHSJ CINEMATOGRAPHY AND DIRECTING

4. Bonus: I remember how cute Gethin and Loras’s actor were about Loras and Renly and it gives me warm fuzzies

5. Bonus bonus: Yoren giving Arya the idea that will become her list is a nice moment and A GIRL IS CLEVER telling them Gendry was the dead boy!

2x04: one of the only episodes written by a woman!

1. Ok I love Lannister soldiers playing “who is GOAT?” before Greywind attacks.

2. I’m sorry all the blood just rushed to my eyes because I saw red during the scene with Joffrey having Sansa beaten in front of EVERYONE.

3. Catelyn Stark angrily brandishing a knife at Littlefinger when he’s all “I’ve always loved yoooooouuu” is A Big Mood.

4. Davos “WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE” Seaworth, ladies, gentlemen, and honored folk....

2x05

1. Catelyn keeping her cool and being smart under pressure and keeping Brienne alive is some A++ women helping women stuff.

2. The room with all the latticework where Cersei and Tyrion talk is SO PRETTY. And Tyrion is... actually trying to do right by the city and his family. It’s sad, really.

3. I’d forgotten how much I liked Dagmer for actually helping Theon rather than just making fun of him for a lack of knowledge that isn’t his fault.

4. I remember there was some debate having Arya as Tywin’s cupbearer since it was a pretty major change to the books, but it gave us some great interactions between two super talented actors, and those scenes are... mostly(??) in character and reveal interesting things about them, so I’m on the side of “I love it.”

5. Wow, but the Fist of the First Men is beautiful. And I love Sam’s love of history and how it lets him do world building in an endearing way.

6. Brienne swearing to Catelyn literally just brought tears to my eyes.

2x06

1. Bran’s “Did you hate us the whole time?” to Theon is a moment that will have me in tears every time I hear it. Let’s just pretend I’ve flailed about every upsetting second Theon is on screen and how many awards Alfie deserves and call it a day.

2. Arya’s OH SHIT face when she hears that Littlefinger is about to come into the room... priceless.

3. Sandor Clegane is an Incredibly Useful Person.

4. I know he’s really different from the books, but Xaro Xhoan Daxos is so handsome and INTERESTING in the show, and Qarth is SO PRETTY. Like the clothes the sets... everything.

5. Probably Dyslexic Jaime is one of my favorite little touches the show added, and Tywin’s reaction to it was... very him.

6. Ygritte’s Wildling flirting is... both hilarious and adorable. Jon never knew what hit him.

2x07

1. Dany’s WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS? Iconic, and understandable given that they are three of the rarest things on earth.

2. Shae being willing to knife a girl to keep Sansa’s secret. Friendship goals. Also the following conversation between Cersei and Sansa is nuanced and breaks my heart. Anyone who says Cersei is 100% evil didn’t watch this scene carefully enough.

3. Jaime talking about squiring for Barristan Selmy and how much he loves fighting is a good way to show us that when we can’t be in his head. (Also is this the same fight he was talking about in season 1 in Robert’s office with Barristan? I think it is...)

4. Quaithe was super cool and mysterious and I wish we knew more about her, and Pyatt Pree was CREEPY AS FUCK how did I forget that he killed the 13?

5. Oh right because there’s a Jaime scene next and somehow Brienne makes “Man” the worst insult ever and she is magical.

6. Also that Cersei and Tyrion scene at the end KILLS ME. “I always hoped he’d be like Jaime...” also she voices doubts in the show WAY MORE than book!Cersei does. But... Lena and Peter make it real and complicated.

7. SO MANY VOWS. I still love everything about this. And Jaime trying to press EVERY ONE of Catelyn’s buttons is... amusing as always.

1x08

1. Wherever Robb and Talisa are walking on the way back from the Crag is SO PRETTY I just want to pitch a tent and camp there for a week.

2. Jaime falling off a horse and introducing himself to Brienne like she doesn’t know who he is WHAT AN ASSHOLE I LOVE HIM. This is the beginning of a BEAUTIFUL ROAD TRIP.... Canoe trip?

3. I want to eat a pie with sour cherries like Hot Pie is describing....

4. Bronn and Tyrion trying and failing to pronounce that historian’s name is SO FUNNY to me right now. This show used to be good at balancing little character moments and Serious Business.

5. Jacqen H’Ghar is clearly asking himself how a man got himself into this situation with this strange girl.

6. Robb and Roose Bolton talking about hunting Theon down gives me the stomach lurches.

7. Robb Stark makes ROmanTiC BuT pooR LiFE ChOIceS

2x09: it’s BLACKWATER TIME! Huzzah for ships and sea battles!

1. Cersei getting the poison from Pycelle stops my heart a bit.

2. We get to hear a bit of “The Rains of Castamere” for the first time!

3. Nearly died laughing at Varys’ “I’ve always hated the bells.” ME AND YOU AND THE WHOLE FANDOM, MY FRIEND.

4. I still LOVE THE CLEVERNESS OF TYRION’S PLAN. And the suspense... so good. “There’s only one ship...” Bronn firing the arrow and it hitting the water ALL OF IT.

5. Increasingly drunk Cersei is cruel and tragic and funny and I love her so much my heart doesn’t know what to do.

6. “Awwww pooR Sandor” is a reaction I NEVER thought I’d have about his little moment of paralysis after seeing the burning soldier but we never step in the same river twice and all that, and this time around I def had that reaction. And cheered at “fuck the King” for SANDOR’s sake.

7. I’ve said this before but PODRICK PAYNE FOR SQUIRE OF THE CENTURY

8. oh hai Renly’s ghost and dad Lannister (Daddister?)

2x10: Valar Morghulis, BITCHES

1. Tywin’s horse shitting just outside the throne room because Tywin needed to ride it in for some reason is the line of Lannister Extra (tm) that makes me love this awful family.

2. Show Margaery Tyrell is a devious Player of the Game, and I am enjoying that this time around. (Also I see shades of Anne Boleyn in the Tudors, and that was a performance I enjoyed.)

3. Jaime WATCHES Brienne all the time, like he’s trying to figure her out, and then making up that story on a DIME, and the two of them trying to sell it... FRENEMY GOALS.

4. If people watch the scene with Theon and Maester Luwin and think Theon deserved what he got, they are dumb. My poor identity crisis in kraken from... (Also thank you subtitles for telling me WEX IS THERE? I love him in the books but I’m sure they just used that name without attaching it to someone.)

5. So in the books the House of the Undying was SO CREEPY I had to stop reading because it was too late at night and I was too freaked out and I WAS IN MY 30S! So the way they did it here was just so underwhelming. Yet more proof that the producers didn’t buy into or value the parts of the story that were too “fantasy.” Did Pyatt Pree just... not know dragons breathed fire? Or did he thing they were too little? Idk that seemed a stupid plan he had.

6. I’m fine just crying over Maester Luwin like I didn’t know he died.

7. In the final episode, if we get a shot of the throne room in the red keep looking like Dany’s vision... but with ash instead of snow... at least it’ll be a bit of continuity.

8. That third horn blast still gave me chills on a warm day. Well done, season 2.

[album-corvus-gravis-blog]

How I learned my English

Starting at a young age I or more accurately my parents, discovered I wasn’t the next Shakespeare. In the years to follow I would continue to struggle with the Dutch language. I should probably explain, I’m born in the Netherlands where I still reside. Growing up learning a difficult language while struggling with dyslexia isn’t an experience I would recommend. Surprisingly learning English was a walk in the park and I will guide you through my road to learn the English language.

The first time I started to learn the English language was in primary school. In the Netherlands we normally start to learn English around the age of 10. It starts of simple with just some basic words and grammar. Its sole purpose is to prepare you for high school. In high school we start to learn how to read, write and speak English.

In my high school they kicked it into a higher gear. I enrolled into a bilingual education program because of the level of education I could handle. Half my classes were in English. I learned mathematic instead of wiskunde, history instead of geschiedenis and geography instead of aardrijkskunde, just to name a few. Even the English lessons were special because all we did was watch movies such as: War of Worlds, The notebook and Narnia. We also used to read books. We read short stories: The lottery or The Veldt It proved more successful than just learning pages and pages of words. All the people in my class passed their exams and to no ones surprise we enjoyed the English classes.

After three years in high school it is custom in the Netherlands to choose a direction in which you start specializing. However, you always continue to learn English. The next three years of English classes were different from the first three. The focus was more on speaking English and with that the literature started to become increasingly difficult. All was done in preparation of our final exams. The literature however also became more interesting to read. We started to read scripts from ‘Romeo and Juliet’ by Shakespeare, ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ and ‘twelve angry men.’ After reading these scripts we would watch the movies to put all we read into context.

After passing my final exams I went to Wageningen University. I only studied there for a year. However, in this year I had to learn scientific writing. My English skills where at a level where this would not have been a problem, if not for the fact that I’m a dyslexic. However, the grammar in the English language is way easier to understand and get a feel for. So even though I would still make grave errors I managed to get through it. I now had the skill to write scientifically and make proper use of sources I used.

This brings me to where I am now. I’m continuing with my studies and as you can read continuing to write in English. For the next couple of weeks, I will post more blogs about articles and TED-talks. So, if you would like to criticise my opinion on subjects, I know nothing about, sit tight.

[tedfashionski]

Finking, Finking.

Hi, welcome to my ted talk. (That is the only time I will ever make that joke. This is Fashionski Finks. Expect radically low standards of self-involved rantiness with zero research or accountability from here on out). For a while there I seriously thought that the covid-19 quarantine was going to result in people being increasingly placid and accepting of creeping extensions of the police state. But here I am, getting depressed again, not about the protests, which I love, but more about my relationship to in-group pressure dynamics. One of the problems with being a relentless contrarian is the discomfort of my impulse to rebel against groups even when they’re championing the right thing. I have to find my own way to fight against the system as an outsider. No gods, no masters, no fucking peer pressure.  I’ll never be happy joining a chorus line. I don’t sign fucking petitions (they’re just lists for the NSA). I do donate, but like fuck will I do it performatively. I can’t go to protests cus I get panic attacky in crowds. I empathise pretty strongly with outsiders of all stripes but believe ridiculously excessively in the public good of criticism, and have a nostalgic love of trolling (I like to think I’m gentle with it though). Bring back the troll! We need that fucker, he’s a sign of a healthy internet. I’m writing this blog thing as an extension of my need to vent my extreme negativity. TBH I never expected to get any followers with ted twitter and the bizarre welcomingness of the hf twitter community totally wrongfooted me. I’m not nice. Ted isn’t meant to likable. He’s my dark side. I was meant to be using this alt as a way to terrorise the nice nice (secretly cruel) fashion people. I’m gunna try and up that aspect more. Just bear in mind, my complaints are largely about the system, but if I see you perpetuating fashion’s entrenched anti-intellectualism or its insidery bullshit, I’ll come for you with a little meta-bomb with your name on it. Maintaining my misanthropic tone does take work tho, like, deep down in some twisted part of my psyche, I guess I do actually want to be liked. It’s fucked up.

I suppose it’s only fair to explain this Ted fursona. Like, new concept, who dis? Why all the furry porn? …..because I just think it’s hilarious. Every time I think about the furries I cackle (not at them, mind). I just love the mad corruption of pure Disney aesthetics into hardcore pornography. That’s anti-authoritarian as fuck. I love the sincerity of their culture. The way the crazy fetish aspect means they’ll never be fully blandified by mainstream acceptance. The way it’s so cringe but so delightful. And more seriously, I’m interested in how a culture of mostly gay male nerds developed to the point where they’ll invest 10k in custom fursuits and support eachother’s independent businesses in ways that the fashion community completely fails to do. The fashion world sucks. There’s so many correlations there that I want to investigate: the newness (furries date from around the 70s, fashion culture in its self-aware state dates from the late 19th C – both very young fields); the centralisation/decentralisation; the hierarchy (furries can be pretty catty, I have discovered in my research, and we all know what fashion people are like); the adoption of new identities; the cis-boy gayness aspect (I’m increasingly tired of the extreme nasty hierarchy of certain CSM queens. It’s all very UGH. Just, fuck those particular bitches.) There’s more to the furry love, but I’ll explore it in future posts.

More importantly, why Ted fucking Kaczynski? I’m not like, actually a terrorist. (….yet. tehehe. NO, seriously I like non-maiming violence. Fuck yeah to property damage. Fuck yeah to disabling the system in extreme way. But no to wooden IEDs. Think of my shitty jokes that fail to land as my hand-crafted bombs). I think I like the shitness of Ted. He was just an epic fail of a terrorist. I’m a little white girl living in London. I’m not actually a primitivist, as much as I crave a hut in the woods. I did go to an elite school though. I had some really shitty experiences in the fashion industry in my early 20s, and I watch my friends who are relatively successful in that system and I get so angry on their behalf at their poor treatment. They think I’m too angry. Fuck that. They should be more angry, and the fact that they can’t be angry at their extreme precarity and the fact they’re still insecure and terrified of being ejected by the system after all their investment and skills they’ve built up is BULLSHIT. I’ll be double angry for them, I’m not invested in that system. I don’t need it to pay my rent. I’m free, motherfuckers, and I’m coming for the abusers and exploiters. If you’re a complacent industry figure not fighting hard from within, uggghhhhh fuck you. Yes, YOU. Soooo, I relate pretty hard to the MK ultra stuff. (go look him up, he was basically tortured and experimented upon by the elite). But there’s a pretty big chasm between my views and his, and I’ll try to be clear about the extent of my interest in his extreme beliefs. I haven’t even finished reading the manifesto. Basically, I watched that shitty show on Netflix with sam worthington around the same time I watched Joker (that movie fucked me up) and thought it’d be a good outlet to larp online as a terrorist. There’s the angry white alt-right school shooter aspect, which I’m still figuring out, cus I’m non-binary and I was raised by nutso trumpy right-wingers, who I barely speak to anymore, and I struggle to get along with people generally. There’s sad, self-pitying rage here. I empathise with the angry white dudes too much. I feel guilty about it. That’s good ground for artmaking (yes, shamefully, this…is…art. Sorry). I modelled this fursona a little after my brother, who I spent years living with and arguing with and trying to lift out of his scary racist youtube rabbit holes. This is actually quite an emotional thing for me, cus I did the ‘talk to your fascist family’ thing. And I completely failed. I realised his right-winginess wasn’t lessening, I wasn’t gaining ground, and in fact my excessive empathy and desire to reach out to the relative most similar to me in character meant his extremism was rubbing off on me. Making me more resentful and depressed. Feeling powerless. I was being too kind-hearted and forgiving of his masculine impotence. So I’m exploring some personal shit here. But Ted is also a cute lil fuzzball teddy bear. He means well, but me being super autistic and faily at social skills means he’s kind of a dick, cus I am. I’m going to try and further develop this character, this POV, and this post is the only time I’ll explain the divide between him and his creator (moi). The ‘I’ on the twitter and here is Ted Fashionski, I need that space between me and him. Masks give us this freedom to be more ourselves. Internet culture has lost a lot of its wild brutal anonymity in the last decade or so, now everyone’s afraid of making mistakes. How the hell do you grow if you’re not allowed to fuck up? This is a vital outlet. He’s become an important part of my life and I have to say, I love being Ted Fashionski. He’s like Paddington Bear who just escaped form Guantanamo or something.

I get pretty fatigued as a matter of course. I’m a long-term depressive since childhood. I have a difficult time keeping my hard-on for living. I don’t get suicidal really but I do struggle with extreme fatigue. I sleep a lot. I often fall into spirals of self-hate. And as someone who utterly believes in revolutionary leftist politics, I beat myself up about not doing enough. I’m so middle class and english and white. I was raised in such a chauvinistic and complacent culture; I don’t even know where to start. I’m wading my way through post-colonial literature and beating myself up for finding it boring and uncomfortable. It’s hard to force yourself to acknowledge your culture is The Bad Guys. It’s easier to fall into fanstasies of supremacy and butthurt misunderstoodness. And it’s not like my depressive brain needs any encouragement to hate me. My trajectory is ever leftwards, but I remember the righteous fury of being right-wing. I get it, that was me. We need more paths back from fascism, more comprehension of why people are that kind of shitty. I talk less, and less well, the more depressed I am. If I’m talking, it means im feeling a lot better. Just, fyi.

Give me a minute to be critical here. With the George Floyd protests, a lot of the cool guys on fashion twitter has gone blazingly hardcore on the political side. But there’s this troubling rhetoric about ‘no return to normal content’ or ‘this isn’t the time for fashion’. Like fuck it isn’t. This is a key problem with fashion culture right here, we have this received perception of fashion as empty escapism. Escapism matters in fashion, yes. But seriously, talking about the surfaces of things does not equal not caring about deeper meaning. What the fuck. Clothes are a connective tissue, a membrane between us. They’re emotional and powerful. We can talk about things that matter THROUGH clothes. I speak fashion, pretty fucking well. Most people who work at fashion magazines are morons with no understanding or respect for their subject. They’re incapable of doing it justice, and that’s deliberate. On this tumblr you’ll see rants and reviews of fashion and other artforms, always interpreting through a fashion lens. cus it matters, cus it’s a vital part of the culture, cus just because something has a glittery, seductive surface doesn’t mean it doesn’t communicate or contain depth. There’s no going back to ‘normal fashion content’, yes. Normal fashion content is a fucking psyop to divert legitimate interest in aesthetics amongst largely non-academic dyslexic visual types away from careful thought/feeling and towards empty consumerist commericiality. The traditional fashion media wants you to express yourself and your interest in the zeitgeist through buying more shit. Another fashion world is possible. Let’s destroy the old and build a new one, one where surface and spirit are connected and true and fashion can’t be abused in service of evil industrial monopolists.

/end rant. TLDR: angry fictional teddy bear with tin-foil hat and an eco-anarchist fetish says no to stupid fashion and yes to the renewal of conceptual fashion. Also, Fuck White People.

[mathematicianadda]

(META) Concrete thinkers, incapable of metaphor, are gate-keeping mathematics and eroding its most powerful property: abstraction.

Earlier today, I posted about the fascinating similarity between fractals and logarithmic functions. Though it stated in the first line that it resided in the conceptual realm, a boo-boo w/ a metaphor I used got the post flamed by a literalist. I deleted it out of cowardice. I shouldn't have. Whoops. I'm not wrong to connect the two concepts. When I get better in these fields' Algebras*, more will be written on this. But it indicated a larger problem...

​

In Lex Fridman's podcast w/ Grant Sanderson, creator of 3Blue1Brown on YouTube (link below), he discussed 3 types of mathematicians: the puzzle-solvers, the physicists (broadly speaking here...), and those who "love abstraction and the power of generality." Certainly, this list is incomplete, but in a way that proves my point here. Throughout history, the mathematical greats who invented our studies in school, the Newtons and Eulers, were *wizards* of abstraction. Evidenced not only by their discoveries - take calculus, for example; the study of the behavior of infinitesimals - but by their prolific generations in disparate domains like Great Literature. Chock-full of metaphor and analogy, these thinkers thought deeply and solved even bigger problems. Through generality, they invented the frameworks our bachelor and grad degrees. They are our revered ancestors.

​

In the early 20th century, Abstractionists like Turing, Goedel, and the analytical demigod John von Neumann, trail blazed computational science. They needed insanely computationally complicated equations solved, so dammit, they put theirs minds to work. Using what they had already grasped, broke new ground via abstraction. We're indebted to the pioneer-class. They used their heads, drawing on intuition, the pattern-recognition software innate to homo sapiens.

​

Since the mid-1970s, it seems, (though cannot be verified via a gate-keeping function known as "peer review", check out Game Theory on Wikipedia for more information) that our technological prowess, the empirical furnace that has been alight since the dawn of the 17th century, has been burnt down to embers. Occasionally, we see a noteworthy digital innovation from the Valley. But outside of the strictly IT universe, astonishingly little. We go to college, then grad school, then some PhD program to learn complicated theories about complicated things so that we can handle minutia. Everything seems disparate because each course takes the top-down approach. We start at such a high level that half the class gets 65% on the first exam and drops out. The tech- or research-bound students are starving for some application, but the semester ends before that section of the textbook is covered. It almost seems malicious. The pattern-recognition software I referred to works from the ground up. It's quite clear for those familiar with psych and neuroscience. So if we are always fed the abstraction, our grass-roots, evolved, intuitive brains have nowhere to go with it. We can't perform the abstraction on our own, as they we're not allowed to have access to that part of the toolkit. We go into the workforce with a litany of equations our brains have vaguely mapped to {insert technical field here.} Then we wind up in sales jobs to pay the bills. In Business Schools (where I come from), it's even worse. They don't even apply calculus (dare I mention stochastic calculus or Brownian motion...spooky!) in economics class until grad school because they think our tiny Microsoft Excel brains would explode. For a concrete example here, it took me three years after college to the connect the dots on 'derivative', the tool of calculus, and 'derivative' the financial security class most known for its hand in 2008.

​

In any domain, when things begin to fall into place, divergent from complexity and into alignment, we find emergent simplicity. Our ancestors called it discovery, "innovation" better fits millennial vernacular. When things continue become increasingly muddled and complex, it's called stagnation. Stagnation in the Information Age no less. As a 24-year old debating a future in an expensive and unproductive graduate program or my soul's slow death in Big Corporate, I truly hope momentum will change on this one. Lets's ask more questions, make more mistakes, make more irresponsibly logical leaps (when the downside to said leap is low), do less incremental improvement, and math the s*** out of our future. Instead of worrying about today's hyped problem like the Middle East, climate change, {pick your favorite}, perhaps we could...maybe...just maybe...solve them? Let's use this beautiful, logical, intensely rigorous toolkit we've been gifted by our ancients, MATH, to solve the problems of the future.

​

PS - Please tear apart my ideas if you'd like. But, if you flame me ad-hominem style, you're just proving my point on this...gate-keeping ruins math.

_____

* Algebra is a anglo-bastardization (hope this isn't a swearword that get's me deleted) of 'al-jabr,' meaning 'bone-setting,' literally referring to how we move the 'bones' around on paper. Thank god the Arab world kept the mathematical lamp burning throughout the European Dark Ages. Why don't the literalists explain the meaning of this word...ever? Not even in high school? Because they take things for granted and don't read.

**I didn't make the mistake of apologizing for my learning issues in this post, unlike its predecessor. If you're still reading this, you're not the type to idiotically flame something thought out Reddit-style. Many mathematical greats have had issues in the over-structured, 100 equations in 30 minutes-classroom setting. Two examples are Albert Einstein and John Nash. The former worked in a patent-office because 1900s Barvaria didn't like that he was scatter-brained (or that he was Jewish; over-structured societies are more prone to racism, also known as tribal affinity); the latter, lived his 30s thru 70s deluded by the menacing condition of Paranoid Schizophrenia. The chiding he received in elementary, secondary, and university-level academia played a significant role in his social disconnect. See Isaacson's Einstein and Nassar's A Beautiful Mind to learn more. I'm not suggesting that I possess a mind bearing an ounce of resemblance with these legends, or any others. What I am suggesting, however, is that there are at least a few greats among us who are being crowded out of our institutions, and given an "ADHD"/"Dyslexic"/"Aspergers" diagnoses for their trouble. Why do we continue to call bright kids with learning superpowers 'learning disabled'?

*** Check out Lex Fridman's phenomenal podcast. Here's the link to the episode w/ Grant Sanderson, creator of 3Blue1Brown; one of the few who understand the power of intuition in mathematics.

https://lexfridman.com/grant-sanderson/

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[dyswhatnow-blog]

Beginning

Yesterday we started the process of assessment for my kid to be formally diagnosed with dyslexia. Or not, I guess. Long ago, before I had kids, I was an early childhood teacher and I knew my kid was pretty normal...right until he started kindergarten. There was just something off. It all seemed too much, too noisy, too bright, too many changes, too much chaos. My kid was reacting in a way that wasn't usual. Year 1 and 2 at primary school were ok. He was clearly a bright little fellow. His handwriting was "late" though, but everyone assured me sometimes that happens with boys and it would all click in. About Year 3 it became evident it wasn't going to click in, if anything, his writing was going in reverse. He started hating school and becoming increasingly anxious and emotional. We took him to a Davis Dyslexia tutor, mostly because she was the closest learning disability teacher to us. He spent two weeks with her, and she showed us some techniques to help, and things were on an even keel again. Year 4, 5 and 6 were great. Achieving at expected standard in all subjects, using a laptop to compensate for short comings in handwriting. I kind of put dyslexia out of my mind. I mean, he could read. He got in the top 2% of kids nationally for an English exam, so how dyslexic could he be? This year though, it's gone from being a tinkling bell to a glaring saxon. Something is going horribly wrong at school. What was left of his handwriting is gone, he's horribly stressed, he's being held in to finish work, he's being penalised for presentation, he's forgetful. He'd been making some big independent steps, but he came right back in to the safe family nest. We tried talking with his teacher but that hasn't gone well: I feel like I am seen as hysterical and over-involved. I feel like the assumption is that he is molly coddled and needs to be toughened up. So, we did some research and decided it was time to get a formal cognitive assessment. So far he's done 2.5 hours, and he'll do 2.5 hours next week, and then we will get a written report. They don't say anything about expected diagnosis but they did send me home with two books about dyspraxia. And everything the assessor said about dyslexia seemed to resonate, not just with me but with him. When we walked out after he said "I hope I am dyslexic" and maybe more tellingly when he went to bed "What if I'm not dyslexic?"

[mavwrekmarketing]

Image copyright Rowan Williams

Image caption Saskia Nelson spotted a gap in the market

“Does the world really need another wedding photographer?”

That was the thought that ran through Saskia Nelson’s mind when, having spontaneously resigned from her office job at a London Olympics legacy project, she was thinking of her next move.

An amateur photographer, she decided four years ago, aged 43, that she was going to go professional.

But she hadn’t really worked out how, and so she used her three-month notice period to consider her options, one of which was to join the army of wedding snappers.

“But I thought, ‘I’m not married, it’s not my bag, I don’t really know anything about it,'” says Saskia.

What she did know about, however, was online dating.

Having spent seven to eight years doing it, her friends considered her a connoisseur.

Image copyright Hey Saturday

Image caption Saskia and her team photograph up to 50 people per month

“I just took a very light-hearted approach to it, I saw it as a bit of an adventure, or a story to share with married friends – they love that sort of stuff,” she says.

But one major bugbear for Saskia was the large amount of bad and old – to the point of deceptive – profile photos.

“When you’re over 40, ten years is a long time,” she quips, adding that she’s seen countless bad selfies and shots with an ex cropped out.

So knowing the importance of having a good profile image, she realised that there was a gap in the market to become an online dating photographer.

Doing lots of research, Saskia couldn’t find anyone at all who was specialising in it, so she was effectively creating a new genre of photography when she launched her business Hey Saturday in 2013.

Explaining the unusual name, she says: “It’s like saying hello to the most important day of the week in the dating world.”

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Saskia’s photo shoots are always outside, to get away from the “studio portrait” feel

Initially available in London, Hey Saturday has over the past four years expanded across the UK, and is now about to launch in New York.

Saskia and her team of seven photographers, all of whom are female, currently photograph up to 50 clients per month.

Saskia says that from day one she realised the photographs couldn’t look too formal.

“I know that I didn’t want the photos to scream ‘I needed professional help’,” she says. “So they couldn’t be in a studio, or too formal – people run a mile from that.

“So I developed this ethos of [it looking like] one of your best mates happens to be passionate about photography. You are just hanging out, and taking photos.”

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption The company says it has an even split of male and female clients

To create that feel, Saskia says that being outside is key. And if rain is forecast the client has the option to reschedule – particularly useful for women worried about their hair apparently.

Before the shoot they are asked to fill in a short questionnaire about themselves and the website suggests they might want to bring a couple of different tops and t-shirts (there are always nearby loos to change in).

And while Saskia found she initially had more female clients, she says it’s now about 50-50, and increasingly she is getting younger people, no doubt more conscious of their online image.

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Clients pay Saskia and her team for their time, not the number of photos

She says that most clients turn up in a rush, usually with no clear ideas of how they want the photographs to look. They then pay for half an hour, one hour or 90 minutes of actual photography.

Saskia says that a large part of the job is making people feel comfortable, she says, as the clients can often feel vulnerable and a bit self-conscious.

“No-one ever comes to us saying, ‘I really want to do this.’ They come saying, ‘this is the last thing I’ll do, because I really want to meet someone,'” says Saskia, who despite being a photographer, does not like being in front of the lens herself.

Hey Saturday has been helped by the fact that the online dating industry has exploded in recent years, fuelled by apps that people can use on their mobile phones.

There are now 10 million active online daters in the UK alone, according to industry group the Online Dating Association (ONA).

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Clients can bring props and different outfits to the shoot

Andrew McClelland, the ONA’s chief executive, says that having help with your profile, be it your photo or text description, can be helpful.

“I’m the worst person to tell someone else about me,” he says, “but if there’s somebody who can help me sell myself then why not?

“Of course there’s the risk it might be more polished than I am, but the same is true in real life.”

In the end, Mr McClelland says image counts. “We are social animals and we get an awful lot of information from when we look at someone, although you might argue that is not always a good thing.”

‘I found love via Hey Saturday’

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption It was this photo in particular that caught the attention of Samantha Lovell’s love interest

Samantha Lovell found love after using Saskia’s service

The 36-year-old teacher had hired a professional matchmaker who strongly advised her to get professional photos.

So visiting her sister in London she booked a shoot.

Her matchmaker showed the photos to one man, who really liked them, and Samantha arranged to meet the fellow online dater.

“We met up and hit it off immediately,” she says.

Image copyright Samantha Lovell

Image caption Wedding bells soon followed

“We were married in less than a year, and now I’m expecting a baby in the summer.”

Saskia has grown Hey Saturday by word of mouth and by following a marketing mantra known as “know, like and trust”.

To do this, she writes blogs and articles for both news and dating websites, takes part in podcasts, and offers dating advice. The idea is that people will get to know, like and trust her, and therefore be more likely to make a booking with Hey Saturday.

Image copyright Polly Rusyn

Image caption Shooting acclaimed photographer Martin Parr for one of his projects brought Saskia recognition in the wider photographic community

As the company has expanded, Saskia says her biggest challenge has been finding photographers who she thinks fit the brand.

“It’s so critical that we get people who can make people laugh, can be light-hearted and joke around, because you want to get natural, relaxed and happy shots.”

Saskia says she is also notoriously bad with numbers – describing herself as suffering from “dyscalculia”, or being dyslexic with numbers.

Luckily she has a banker boyfriend to help with the accounts, who, you will be glad to know, she met through online dating.

Related Topics

Entrepreneurship

Photography

Read more: http://ift.tt/2oyFiZJ

 The post The UK’s first online dating profile photographer – BBC News appeared first on MavWrek Marketing by Jason

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[viralhottopics]

The UK’s first online dating profile photographer – BBC News

Image copyright Rowan Williams

Image caption Saskia Nelson spotted a gap in the market

“Does the world really need another wedding photographer?”

That was the thought that ran through Saskia Nelson’s mind when, having spontaneously resigned from her office job at a London Olympics legacy project, she was thinking of her next move.

An amateur photographer, she decided four years ago, aged 43, that she was going to go professional.

But she hadn’t really worked out how, and so she used her three-month notice period to consider her options, one of which was to join the army of wedding snappers.

“But I thought, ‘I’m not married, it’s not my bag, I don’t really know anything about it,'” says Saskia.

What she did know about, however, was online dating.

Having spent seven to eight years doing it, her friends considered her a connoisseur.

Image copyright Hey Saturday

Image caption Saskia and her team photograph up to 50 people per month

“I just took a very light-hearted approach to it, I saw it as a bit of an adventure, or a story to share with married friends – they love that sort of stuff,” she says.

But one major bugbear for Saskia was the large amount of bad and old – to the point of deceptive – profile photos.

“When you’re over 40, ten years is a long time,” she quips, adding that she’s seen countless bad selfies and shots with an ex cropped out.

So knowing the importance of having a good profile image, she realised that there was a gap in the market to become an online dating photographer.

Doing lots of research, Saskia couldn’t find anyone at all who was specialising in it, so she was effectively creating a new genre of photography when she launched her business Hey Saturday in 2013.

Explaining the unusual name, she says: “It’s like saying hello to the most important day of the week in the dating world.”

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Saskia’s photo shoots are always outside, to get away from the “studio portrait” feel

Initially available in London, Hey Saturday has over the past four years expanded across the UK, and is now about to launch in New York.

Saskia and her team of seven photographers, all of whom are female, currently photograph up to 50 clients per month.

Saskia says that from day one she realised the photographs couldn’t look too formal.

“I know that I didn’t want the photos to scream ‘I needed professional help’,” she says. “So they couldn’t be in a studio, or too formal – people run a mile from that.

“So I developed this ethos of [it looking like] one of your best mates happens to be passionate about photography. You are just hanging out, and taking photos.”

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption The company says it has an even split of male and female clients

To create that feel, Saskia says that being outside is key. And if rain is forecast the client has the option to reschedule – particularly useful for women worried about their hair apparently.

Before the shoot they are asked to fill in a short questionnaire about themselves and the website suggests they might want to bring a couple of different tops and t-shirts (there are always nearby loos to change in).

And while Saskia found she initially had more female clients, she says it’s now about 50-50, and increasingly she is getting younger people, no doubt more conscious of their online image.

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Clients pay Saskia and her team for their time, not the number of photos

She says that most clients turn up in a rush, usually with no clear ideas of how they want the photographs to look. They then pay for half an hour, one hour or 90 minutes of actual photography.

Saskia says that a large part of the job is making people feel comfortable, she says, as the clients can often feel vulnerable and a bit self-conscious.

“No-one ever comes to us saying, ‘I really want to do this.’ They come saying, ‘this is the last thing I’ll do, because I really want to meet someone,'” says Saskia, who despite being a photographer, does not like being in front of the lens herself.

Hey Saturday has been helped by the fact that the online dating industry has exploded in recent years, fuelled by apps that people can use on their mobile phones.

There are now 10 million active online daters in the UK alone, according to industry group the Online Dating Association (ONA).

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption Clients can bring props and different outfits to the shoot

Andrew McClelland, the ONA’s chief executive, says that having help with your profile, be it your photo or text description, can be helpful.

“I’m the worst person to tell someone else about me,” he says, “but if there’s somebody who can help me sell myself then why not?

“Of course there’s the risk it might be more polished than I am, but the same is true in real life.”

In the end, Mr McClelland says image counts. “We are social animals and we get an awful lot of information from when we look at someone, although you might argue that is not always a good thing.”

‘I found love via Hey Saturday’

Image copyright Saskia Nelson

Image caption It was this photo in particular that caught the attention of Samantha Lovell’s love interest

Samantha Lovell found love after using Saskia’s service

The 36-year-old teacher had hired a professional matchmaker who strongly advised her to get professional photos.

So visiting her sister in London she booked a shoot.

Her matchmaker showed the photos to one man, who really liked them, and Samantha arranged to meet the fellow online dater.

“We met up and hit it off immediately,” she says.

Image copyright Samantha Lovell

Image caption Wedding bells soon followed

“We were married in less than a year, and now I’m expecting a baby in the summer.”

Saskia has grown Hey Saturday by word of mouth and by following a marketing mantra known as “know, like and trust”.

To do this, she writes blogs and articles for both news and dating websites, takes part in podcasts, and offers dating advice. The idea is that people will get to know, like and trust her, and therefore be more likely to make a booking with Hey Saturday.

Image copyright Polly Rusyn

Image caption Shooting acclaimed photographer Martin Parr for one of his projects brought Saskia recognition in the wider photographic community

As the company has expanded, Saskia says her biggest challenge has been finding photographers who she thinks fit the brand.

“It’s so critical that we get people who can make people laugh, can be light-hearted and joke around, because you want to get natural, relaxed and happy shots.”

Saskia says she is also notoriously bad with numbers – describing herself as suffering from “dyscalculia”, or being dyslexic with numbers.

Luckily she has a banker boyfriend to help with the accounts, who, you will be glad to know, she met through online dating.

Related Topics

Entrepreneurship

Photography

Read more: http://bbc.in/2oPjSqn

from The UK’s first online dating profile photographer – BBC News