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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

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houroftheantichristwolf · 3 years

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Lesbian Politicization

This was published 1990 in a book called Dykes-Loving-Dykes: Dyke Separatist Politics for Lesbians Only and illustrates exactly the long-standing issue with women appropriating lesbianism, using their political beliefs to try to define female homosexual existence in relation to opposing men. The agenda, of course, is to say fuck males and to fight the ever elusive and ever changing culture of patriarchy.

That’s 100% relevant and helpful for actual homosexual females....not.

I’ll make this short though, this is just to show how feminists been appropriating lesbians and applying their values to lesbian existence.

In the 1980’s, a decade of reactionary politics, femininity became an accepted value among many Lesbians. Even many politically radical Lesbians, who I would most expect to support Lesbian self-love and self-respect, who usually call male bullshit for what it is, began to openly admire feminine ways of dressing and acting. Femininity! A patriarchal hype if there ever was one.

Lesbians who didn’t look the way you personally think is more useful for your cause probably didn’t care to make a political statement out of their existence. The point of lesbians seeking lesbian communities is to find other lesbians - with the exception of those who WANTED to seek out political radical lesbian communities. That is not an inherent aspect of our existence, and to be honest, it’s not even a large part of it as women appropriating lesbians usually populated those communities. Here is a recap of the origins of radical “lesbian” separatism: *** [ In the late 70s a group of lesbians in Leeds, known as revolutionary feminists (RFs), made a controversial move that resonated loudly for me and many other women. They began calling for all feminists to embrace lesbianism. Appealing to their heterosexual sisters to get rid of men “from your beds and your heads”, they started a debate, which reached its height in 1981 with the publication of an infamous booklet, Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism (LYE). In this, the RFs wrote that, “all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women. It’s no surprise that the booklet was so controversial. “We think serious feminists have no choice but to abandon heterosexuality,” it reads. “Only in the system of oppression that is male supremacy does the oppressor actually invade and colonise the interior of the body of the oppressed.” https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/jan/30/women-gayrights “Political lesbianism originated in the late 1960s among second wave radical feminists as a way to fight sexism and compulsory heterosexuality. Sheila Jeffreys helped to develop the concept when she co-wrote “Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism”[3] with the Leeds Revolutionary Feminist Group. They argued that women should abandon support of heterosexuality and stop sleeping with men, while encouraging women to rid men “from your beds and your heads.”[4] Heterosexual behavior is seen as the basic unit of the patriarchy’s political structure, lesbians who reject heterosexual behavior therefore disrupt the established political system.[5]Ti-Grace Atkinson, a radical feminist who helped to found the group The Feminists, is attributed with the phrase that embodies the movement: ‘Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice.’[6]” ] ***

Lesbians’ acceptance of anything “feminine” is part of the weakening of Lesbian politics—a Lesbian parallel to the right-wing trend of het politics.

LOL good. Being a lesbian does not mean representing anything political. Also what the fuck? This is where queer activists got their penchant for calling lesbians Nazis lol. Where’s that meme that’s like, anyone I don’t like is a Nazi? lol great homophobia, Queen/dumbass.

Those Lesbians who act out the feminine model and claim it’s a contribution to Lesbian culture, a flowering forth of their “real selves,” are of course Fems

So feminine lesbians’ real selves aren’t acceptable within your framework because they trigger your contempt of gender presentation that you yourself do not have to take part of? But your “real self” - a non-lesbian pretending to be a lesbian - is commendable because you want other lesbians to act and look exactly how you do which supposedly is off-putting to patriarchy AKA you use our sexual orientation to say fuck you to men? I think not.

The het media is full of stories about the het feminist who “realizes that she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life,” who “regrets having tried to be like a man,” and is now “rediscovering the excitement of feminine seductiveness, the fun of dressing up in high heels, make-up and skirts, and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.”

“Realizes she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life”; “and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.” So you understand femininity = heterosexuality. This is the 80s/90s, I wonder what her opinion is now that ‘femininity’ has changed: heterosexual women wear gym clothes, lift weights, have short hair, wear no make up or minimal make up etc., and men love it. And yet I see feminists also say that heterosexual women who are like this are still trying to please men and so are still feminine even though what they’re doing and how they’re looking is not “feminine” according to the original perception. So what’s the truth about ‘femininity?’ It’s equating it to anything that heterosexual men find appealing, which changes constantly. You really want lesbians to spend time to think about how to be as unappealing to males as possible when they’re not even relevant and so don’t dominate our every thought and action (unlike you maybe because you’re not homosexual and so have to try harder?)? Please, get real.

She’s a threat to the Big Lie of “feminine woman,” and so men and their women collaborators make up all kinds of ridiculous, hateful fictions to explain away her existence. The pressure is meant to humiliate and bully her into accepting femininity, and it must put her through soul-shaking self-doubt, even if she knows other Butches.

While I do know this happens, the reason behind that is homophobia 100%, being “masculine” appearing is a red marker of homosexuality. The threat is the big lie of heterosexuality. “Feminine” lesbians were assaulted when with their partners or if found out that they are indeed homosexual, they were just less of an obvious target than “masculine” women. It’s not Oppression Olympics, this should be used to understand hate crimes against homosexual women.

Meanwhile, girls who accept femininity—the vast majority, unfortunately—are accepted as “real girls” and encouraged to take pride in their feminine ways. There are degrees of femininity, of course. Some Fem girls accept the complete emaciated drag queen sex-object ideal while others take on just enough feminine identity to still be accepted as real girls.

“Real girls.” I was definitely acknowledged as a “real girl” when I was still more “unfeminine” in my appearance and not out than I am right now being out. What degree of ‘femininity’ am I considered to exhibit now according to feminist praxis, who knows. Either way, my relatives disagree that any amount of femininity would make me a ‘normal’ female. My mother was sad toward the end of her life because she felt conflicted that I wasn’t a ‘real’ female. You know what would’ve changed her perception? Being with a man and having kids.

It means spending time, energy and money on nail polish, perfume, hair-do’s, dresses, diets, body-shaping exercises, poses and games; fantasizing yourself as the center of sexual attention, making everything into a sexual game, getting yourself further and further away from female reality, from real female Lesbian power. It means identifying more and more with het values and choosing to see yourself through men’s eyes.

I thought femininity was clothes, makeup and seeking to attract men. Then it’s wanting a family and diet and exercise, which aren’t exclusive to heterosexual men and women. But because heterosexual males find that appealing in their lives it’s considered feminine? So, again, “femininity” is anything heterosexual males find appealing in females. Got it. And that answers my question about what her thoughts probably are on contemporary “femininity.”

Most importantly, choosing to be an obvious Lesbian is about living with integrity. A Butch’s choice to resist femininity is the choice of a female who’s being true to herself, choosing to be as alive to her female self as possible, regardless of the punishments inflicted on her as a result. I find in that resistance a key to Dyke power, Dyke beauty and Dyke love.

A lesbian being an actual lesbian - not pretending to be one or basing her existence on her capability to spite heterosexual males and females - and living her damn life is living in integrity period. Associating a lesbian’s life with political intent and political values has no integrity, is manipulative and is suspect as hell.

#Catch me NOT getting pigeonholed into any fakebian separatist activism #I'll keep doing me...you do you...but when you try that political B.S. I will say something #Do not project onto us and use political ethics to do it stop using lesbians as your coping mechanisms

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somniabundant · 3 years

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For the character thing: Skov :)

Duuuuuuuuude. I’m about to go off

Sexuality headcanon: okay I think that Skov is pan. He just has chill, carefree vibes and I feel like while Proko doesn’t want to label his attraction in a way that he picks something ambiguous, Skov doesn’t want to label his attraction in a way that he’s like ‘everything! Everyone! I am open to possibilities and I do not care what you identify as as long as you are hot!’ And I love that for him.

Gender headcanon: listen. Listen. My guy is ftm trans and I will fight you in an alleyway if you tell me I am wrong. I will stand by this until the day I die I swtg he is trans and it’s beautiful and his boys support him and it’s wonderful and I’m so proud of him (the fact that typing that all out is making me emotional...) Anyway in another timeline I was Skov and therefore this is true, thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

Just kidding, I’m not done yet. Skov is a trans dude, but he’s also pretty chill and very secure in his identity. He knows who he is and really found himself after he joined the pack and their support means a lot to him. Because of this, he’s able to experiment with his style and wear eyeliner n shit and sometimes borrows Proko’s skirts and drives his expensive-af car in an electric blue miniskirt with fishnets like the king he is and I love that for him. He’s out here destroying gender norms, just a dude being hot and wearing a skirt and still being a dude and he’s an icon and I love him. I could keep going for a while, but let’s move on...

A ship I have with said character: ngl I stole this from a thread between @prokopenkokavinsky and @non-mortem-somni-fratrem they showed me the possibilities and I got hooked. Gansey/Skov. Idk why the idea of this is so appealing to me, like before I was just here for shipping him with Swan and K but now I’m like dang him and Gansey, that’s the kind of out of the box thinking I wanna see. Can you imagine?? Gansey just has no idea how to deal with him and he’s blushing all the time because his boyfriend is so hot and confident and he /wishes/ that was him, but at the same time Skov brings it out in him and Gansey is more adventurous when they’re together and it’s wonderful :))

A BROTP I have with said character: okay so like. Totally ship Swan/Skov in a non platonic way, but I totally see them having an epic bromance as well?? Like they just know each other so well and they do SPORTS together and they got that jock bonding going on for them and they’re so bro together the rest of the back just rolls their eyes at how dumb they are. But then at the same time they’re totally in love more than bros (romantic or somewhere that transcends labels) and they cuddle every night and are like absolute soulmates and it’s beautiful.

A NOTP I have with said character: hmmm. I actually had a lot of trouble coming up with one because I feel like he works with everyone, but I’m going to have to go with Blue/Skov. I feel like maybe they hooked up once and it was fine like they had fun, but then afterwards they mutually decides to never do that again because it was kinda weird and they’re still chill with each other, but they don’t mess around or anything, just platonic pals.

A random headcanon: there are so many... I legit don’t know where to start... okay okay a couple days ago @prokopenkokavinsky and @townpunk and I were just going off on a thread about him so I’m just going to list some from there and then a couple other random ones. First off, he has electric blue hair, I’ll fight you on that one too. Also, he def has a sugar addiction like blue sour patch and monster and just candy and energy drinks galore, he’s got that gamer aesthetic but he spends most of his time playing soccer instead of video games, though he and Swan do play Xbox together sometimes. Ngl I’m not sure where this one came from but I feel like he smokes weed?? Don’t ask me more about this I’ve said it before but I know nothing about drugs I literally don’t leave the house I’ve never been to an actual party all of the stuff I write is completely imagined so like I have nothing else to say about this, but he smokes weed and he also lets himself go wild in every way at K’s substance parties and the regular ones. Another one from the thread: he has ADHD and has a bunch of stim toys and the boys carry some around with them at all times to make sure he always has something to keep himself occupied with. One that I just randomly decided on is that he plays electric guitar and like he’s not that good at it, but he likes it cuz it’s loud and he just has fun messing around and half-assing songs and stuff. Also, this is just my thought, but his actual name is Jacek, but in America aka at Aglionby he goes by Blake. Okay I feel like I should cut myself off before I just keep talking forever but yeah those are a couple...

General opinion over said character: I mean I think you already get the gist... but yeah, he’s an icon and I love him and I want us to meld and become the same person, I very much look up to him XD

#yeehaw well THAT was a long post...#skov is prob the character that I project the most onto him ngl #the day I had my top surgery I was thinking about him like right before when I was sorta freaking out after having got four hours of sleep #I was just like ‘think about Skov think about Skov think about Skov’ what a wild experience and I’m not cat fishing with that Skov top surge #fic it’s gonna happen but like expect it to take a while I wanna prewrite it and life is wild rn but I promise it’ll happen in the next coup #le of monthsssss #thanks for sending in the ask dude and if anyone else wants to then go for it!!#ronanblake #did I mention that your name is cool af I definitely have but I’m gonna say it again your name is cool af #trc #the dream pack #skov #tw smoking #asks

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adultprivilege · 5 years

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I've ranted about this so many times on main that I need to say it here:

The idolization of classical music is not just racist and sexist, it is blatantly ageist

Coming from a huge music nerd this is important for me to say: BEEHTOVEN IS BAD AND MOZART IS WORSE. I dont even know if other pianists are aware of the way we've been brainwashed by Europeans but Beehtoven and Mozart were mediocre at best for average musicians, and for musicians who stood the test of time, they are TERRIBLE.

These two musicians, and most pre-1900s classical musicians in general, are only so famous because they are meant to symbolize the pinnacle of white society and the achievements of whiteness. I like Monet, I like Tchaikovsky, but if that's the best we can do then white people should not do music.

Wanna see a dumb person say dumb shit?

Who is some people? Tell me right now who do you think some people are?

I love this tweet because it so perfectly encapsulates everything that older white people believe. So many people (mostly white and old, #yupisaidit omg I'm so unique) talk about rap being the cause of gang violence, black on black crime, younger people having lots of sex and doing drugs. Imagine believing that the music young people listen to and black people create (and I can get into the exchange of black culture and youth culture at a later date) is an epidemic.

It's funny because that happened all throughout the 19th century.

(Above: "flappers" aka rebellious young women who liked to party and listen to jazz -im not kidding that's literally what a flapper was - of the early 1900s dancing in what were considered short and scantily clad dresses for the time, then another picture of flappers posing for a picture with their boyfriends)

In the early 20th century teenage girls and women in their 20s became so famously known for having more sex, drinking alcohol, being unashamed to dress in shorter skirts, that the term designated to them by older white men - flapper - is now considered a historical term. And you've DEFINITELY seen old films depicting black jazz musicians as illiterate speaking in slang always cheerful with a bunch of other gross stereotypes given to them. No one liked jazz and no one like ragtimes.

(Above: Chuck Berry onstage, Little Richard in a cover photo -both black- and a bunch of white teenagers in the 60s posing on jeeps and pontiacs trying to look punk and cool)

I feel like it should be known by now, Elvis is not the king of rock, most white rock musicians were highkey appropriative and when young black popular music switched to blues white rock musicians tried to follow suit inconspicuously for profit. I'm mostly basing my info of rock and blues on Peter Guralnick's Feel Like Going Home, which isnt the most progressive book you could buy but if you're looking for a comprehensive musical history of the 1950s onward focusing on how young white people rebelled against their parents by participating in black culture, you should definitely read it. Guralnick described how as a young white kid he and his friends would listen to rock all the time, and try to dress in fancy outfits and pose the way Elvis posed, sort of trying to look and behave the way they imagined black people look and behave (again its not the most progressive if could be). Adults constantly judged youth for listening to rock, and all the new kinds of music that came with it that were created out of black culture.

"The first time I heard Little Richard's 'Tutti Frutti' was on the car radio on the way to school.

A-wop bop a lu bop a lop bam boom

Tutti frutti, oh rooty

It burst out at us. Our first reaction, I think, was one of chagrin. Somebody's father was driving, and he expressed our discomfort before we could ourselves. 'What command of the english language,'he said and switched stations. We all laughed self-consciously because it was, after all, our fault."

(Above: Mamie Smith on an album surrounded by black men on trumpets and various brass instruments. A party full of black teenagers listening to rhythm and blues.)

Rhythm and blues was another form of music pioneered by black people and exchanged with youth culture, and put down as a way to dismiss both identities. Again, from Feel Like Going Home:

"Country blues, which was at first considered too disreputable to record, remains to this day too funky in a pejorative sense to merit serious attention."

"These blues were common property long before they were set down on paper, however, and if the recording of the classic blues singers stimulated a new period of growth for country blues, WC Handy himself admitted, 'Each one of my blues is based on some old N**** song of the South, some old song that is part of the memories of my childhood and my race. I can tell you the exact song I used as the basis for any one of my blues.'

Instrumental jazz started out as the articulation of that same feeling, an ingenious approximation of the human voice."

And eventually the music was used by youth as a way to rebel.

"We thought of blues, when we first took it up, as protest music."

Which brings us to hip hop, rap, trap, and the like.

(Above: Duckwrth in his music video for Soprano, Angel Haze with a group of their fans mostly white and everyone in the photo looking pretty blatantly queer)

Obviously right now you are aware of the fact that black people pioneered these three genres, and obviously you are aware that they appeal to a much younger age, because you're living in this time period.

It doesn't matter what the music is. How many times have we seen the narrative that a teacher makes the young black student more interested in school because poetry is just another way to rap? White adults struggle so much to comprehend the evolution of music and its pioneers being black youth that they literally think they're teaching someone when they say that maybe instead of participating in black culture you could do something that is similar but a lot more white and I'll consider you more intelligent just from that. It's an attempt to destroy black/youth culture.

Which brings me back to that goddamn tweet I love so much. Yes, Shapiro is technically a millennial, but hes this type of millennial I hate, the one that thinks they have to compensate by saying "I was born in the wrong generation" "I have an old soul" "antiques are some of the finer things in life". They love the aesthetic of not having computers or phones or really any new technology, they want to live in a creaking house and use a typewriter and die of polio. Ageism is so strongly connected to racism because if you've internalized some ideas of white supremacy, as Shapiro ABSOLUTELY has, you develop a need to connect with white eurocentric society, and as the world becomes more integrated that becomes harder and harder to do until you develop some nostalgia for the 90s, for the 50s, for years that you weren't even alive to be nostalgic for. So these people decide to listen to classical music as a way of saying "I'm not like anybody else in my generation."

And I'm not just going to blame youth because obviously it's mostly the oldest generations saying that music taste is a sign of intelligence and that music contributes to teen pregnancies and drug use and criminal activity. This has been said about so many forms of music because the number one priority for people who have a goal of maintaining ageism is to prevent culture from evolving. Or more specifically, allow culture to evolve, but only to the point where hairstyles and clothes and tech and music tastes can be weaponized to separate and criticize younger people and maintain superiority. Older people have a vested interest in making the many parts of your culture, especially the parts of youth culture that are also black culture, seem crude and inappropriate and reflective of your moral character.

It doesnt matter if you don't listen to rap. You still have to tell people you're not like your generation, avoid using slang like lit and yeet, put on a tie every day, work 60 hours a week and not live in poverty, and talk shit about your own generation just to escape one of the caricatures of youth. And at that point you just enter another caricature that is the "born in the wrong generation" stereotype. Once older people know you're seeking their approval, they (possibly subconsciously, but this is also a very conscious tactic used by pedophiles) compliment you by saying you are very professional, you have an old soul, that you are mature for your age. They make you easily manipulable. So it's a bit terrifying to even try to gain that accreptance.

There are so many people nowadays just like Ben Shapiro who are listening to classical music that was made in 18th century Europe or previous. There are so many music history classes in schools that only teach about Bach, Beehtoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Debussy, all that. If you are going to listen to classical pieces, stop rehashing the old shit. You shouldnt be listening to music out of a desire for cultural "purity" and a feeling of superiority.

If you need to listen to classical music, listen to these:

youtube

If you think music can have an "authentic" sound to it, listen to these:

youtube

TDLR: the ideation of classical music has been used for more than a century to dismiss black/youth culture, to separate our generations and use our cultural contributions as a way to demonize black people and younger generations, and to manipulate youth into a desperation to appeal to older generations.

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cruzrogue · 4 years

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I know...Kinda don’t...U know...

Another story hit me! I’m putting the idea on tumblr because that is where I place my story ideas. Don’t know if this will continue or die. I have plenty of stories to juggle. But in-between writing them these ideas won’t let me go...

It starts off with Cisco Ramon from the flash and Felicity Smoak from Arrow getting to know each other in non-platonic circumstances. They like each other. It becomes an olicity story because I’m a Oliver and Felicity fan. Haha. Those two are just it for me. I can read or write them in similar situations and not get tired of it. I actually love that!

Thanks beforehand for reading especially if you got this far.

Cisco Ramon & Felicity Smoak, OliverQueen/FelicitySmoak

My idea is to make 2 versions of any chapter that I might have smut. (Clean/Smutty) AKA (1A/1B...2A...etc) That is if I continue... Well here goes!

(Untitled story)

Cisco Ramon not one that is usually popular with the girls. Especially when alone and not with his college friends. Friends that brought him along to this year’s spring break trek across a few cities before getting back to his own university.

Wanting to go to a nerd hangout. Scope the world of mechanical wonderment with a side of technological flair at this exhibit. No way that the possibility of missing such mind-blowing thought-provoking display would not fall on his roaster of things to do in Las Vegas. His boys bailed at the idea of spending an ounce of time in the land of boredom. Their words not his. He’d meet up with them at that party venue some guy told them about last night.

Like always he’s enjoyed his alone time and now is ready to adventure to the wild side. Hanging with rich kids has brought a level of craziness. Things these guys do are beyond some of the frat boy lifestyles he’s seen in movies. Just a factor of wow and unbelievable.

The bouncer takes one good look at him and double checks his ID. Cisco just makes a cheesy grin as he tells the guy its 100% him.

The music is low. Not much going on. He is the early bird. Checking his watch early by two hours. Probably should have gone to the hotel. Leaving with the gang. They bring the party. Oh well. He is here now. Maybe he can see if they serve some grub.

Movement catches his attention. Long black hair being pushed to the side. He notices she’s trying to read while hitting her pencil against the table to the beat of a song playing. The closer he gets to the counter the view of the hottie only gets better. Better meaning the anticipation of getting a mildly improved glance. Taking in those sexy low-cut boots. Following her limbs upward. Stopping mid length on her upper thighs as she must be wearing a short skirt. Her long hair covering the view to her face. He wonders how pretty she must be.

“If you keep staring, you’ll burn a hole in my head.”

That gets him to suddenly apologize. He didn’t think she’d notice him. Finally, she sits up straighter moving the hair that is obstructing a clear picture of her face. He suddenly sucks in air. She’s breathtaking.

Her index finger shoots up to the mirror off to the side. A mirror he didn’t catch until now.

“The mirror has failed your gawking ways.” Her lips are pressed to a thin line but there is mirth in her eyes. She knows he won’t be able to tell she’s amused.

“Sorry.” He mutters now totally embarrassed. Serves him right for ogling.

“The club isn’t really open for dancing yet. What brings you in? Not the stale pretzels I hope.”

“I’m super early. I just came from the conservatory of Mechanical Engineering exhibit that was hosted this week and well I couldn’t say no to…”

“Being that guy that drools over numbers.”

A part of him deflates. This hot chick thinks he’s a loser, “Yea. I’m that geek.”

“Well then. It’s a safe bet to get the tenders, onion rings, and maybe apple crisp if you have a sweet tooth.”

“So no on the pretzels?” He smiles because just maybe he has a shot with this beauty. “What about the nut selection?”

“Both are probably salty. You know. It gets you to drink more. Though if you want to handle any certain number of nuts that they serve. I won’t be able to enjoy talking to you further.”

“Oh! You don’t like them? Or do you have some food intolerance to pine nuts?”

She gives him a sly smile, “Seems like the only nuts I can’t handle.”

His mind is quick and it makes him have a goldfish moment. They aren’t even arguing except his mind is screaming. Opening and closing his mouth to only leave it open in surprise. She’s flirting. She is flirting with the nerd him. “I’ll be right back.” He thumbs the food counter.

Felicity goes back to reading. Keeping from sparing a look back at the interesting nerd who seems to like her goth appearance. She knows what she wants tonight. She went out. Instead of studying in her room at her mom’s place. Where she’d be bored out of her mind. It’ll be nice to enjoy a night with a guy that seems to be intellectually sound.

He gets back placing the double portions of the food choices she mentioned while joining her. Just that alone gives him some secret points he has no idea about. They have a blast talking. Actually, chit chatting about science and math related situations that would bore the likes of most other people. Those that can’t fathom how awesome existence is with the mix of these two subjects. Pushing creations to make human lives better.

It leads to them to pulling out their identification’s cards. Both checking the emblem on each other’s license.

“Francisco Baracus Ramon.”

“Yep, a mouthful.” He pops a broken piece of an onion ring into his mouth before looking at her name, “Felicity Meghanne Kloak.” He has no idea that the ID is fake. That isn’t her real name or age. Her mother gave her a fake id as a parting gift as she left to M.I.T. “Oh shit, you’re just eighteen. I’ve been serving a minor alcohol.” She doesn’t correct him further to say that she’s actually sixteen. “I turned twenty-one just like a friend of mine a few weeks back.”

“Happy belated birthday.”

“Thanks. I don’t feel any different.”

“You don’t? You’ve had a few strong drinks.” She says with laughter.

“I’m not sloshed. Hey why aren’t you a little tipsy? You’ve been drinking by myside this whole time.”

She outright laughs, “Your twenty-one. Jimmy would lose a gasket if a minor had alcohol in the open like we are.”

“Whose Jimmy?”

“The owner.”

“Oh!” Cisco says with a frown.

“Cheer up. Isn’t the point to have fun? Enjoy life? Us nerds are already so stuffy.”

“Says a literal goddess. You are so beautiful.” He sees that she about to burst out laughing at how he is becoming so corny. “Come on its not just the alcohol talking. You are just so amazing.”

That has Felicity be a lot more assertive as her hand moves up his arm showing an attraction. Somewhere during the hour and a half of being together they’ve moved to be sitting by each other. Able to talk easier as the sound check started to interfere with hearing the other.

That is until Cisco feels that he may have overdo it with the drinking and heads to the bathroom. Leaving Felicity to not see him again tonight.

----------sp@ce--------------

Cisco meets the gorgeous goth girl named Felicity. Instead of dancing he’s having a session with the round porcelain latrine. He’s a little out of it but his friends meet up with him. Thank goodness his friends arrive. At least the two who needed to pee. Escorting him to a VIP lounge. He’ll rest there. So much for the sweet perfect dream of a girl he met earlier.

Oliver and Clive go check out the club as the rest of the party is escorted to the VIP lounges.

It doesn’t take long until Felicity catches Oliver’s eye. She’s isn’t alone per se as she listening to some guy and her lips are strung in a line of just being polite. He makes his move as Clive tells him he doesn’t get the appeal. Oliver just shakes his head telling his friend ‘variety is the spice of life’.

The guy by the goth’s side trying to sound smooth as he drawls out, “You sure you don’t want something better? I can just call…”

Oliver hears the guy’s line and rolls his eyes. He’d let it play out if the girl was willing to take the drink but with this Goth chick saying adamantly, she is good with what she has. The guy doesn’t get the hint she doesn’t want another drink. As the man calls for the bartender. Oliver steps into the game.

“She has impeccable taste.” Oliver says contemplating the guy who is being let down nicely but is willing to make her uncomfortable. He holds the cocky signature look he is known to have as the other guy is sizing him up. Adding, “It doesn’t stop with just drinking choices.” Catching her stare. He winks.

Taking the moment to dip on his chances as the other guy becomes a third wheel. The odds rising in his favor as her body converges towards his own.

The bartender taking the other man’s order first. A certain venom seeping from his voice as he gets a drink for himself only. Concluding a dark stare towards the couple as the pensive man conflicts with himself if he should just walk away.

“And for the lady?”

Felicity noticed a recognition between the man behind the counter and what she supposes is her knight in shining armor or in her case fitted suit jacket. She’s kept from gawking at the newest intruder. Her eyes falling back onto her drink. Being put on the spot she just tells the bartender to give him his usual. She doesn’t know if they know each other. It doesn’t really matter because the other guy leaves. It’s a huge weight off her back. He was just to persistent for her tastes.

As the bartender hands off the new stranger’s drink. Felicity gets a nickname she presumes as the man dubbed Ollie says ‘thank you’ shelling out a handsome bill for a simple drink.

Oliver doesn’t move to take a seat. Keeping his focus now on his own drink as he sips slowly and placing the drink not far from hers. “It’s actually Oliver.”

“Thanks for the save. Oliver” She finally lets herself look at him again. He is gorgeous. Long locks that probably are way overdue to get cut. Taking him in. She rather digs that his hair accentuates his baby face. Though those blue eyes are mesmerizing. She could get lost in them. That is dangerous. It doesn’t seem to help that he notices her staring. “It’s Felicity.”

Her name falls from his lips and it brings a smile to his face. She gets to notice he has dimples. Oh boy she is in trouble.

“It’s a pretty name.”

Her hand goes for her drink. Controlling her temptation to reach out and touch his cheekbone. That’d be weird.

“Thanks. Do you know the bartender?”

“Met him yesterday. Told us about this club.”

“Us?”

“Spring break. Me and a few friends.”

“I’m on break too.”

“Really? What school?”

“M.I.T.”

“Cool, small world.” He can’t but smile. “My new school is in Boston too.”

“You’re a transfer?”

“You can say that. So, why Vegas?”

“Guilt trip.” Seeing the question form she continues, “I’m a freshman. I took a work study program plus a load of classes this summer. Money’s tight but she’s… she’s my mother.”

“She misses her baby girl. I think that is so sweet.” As she gives him a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t take it back. To him parents that care. They are the best.

“Same question? I doubt being in Vegas while under twenty-one is a big drawl.”

“It’s a pit stop. We are heading to New Orleans next.” He doesn’t mention Miami before heading back to Boston. “What gives my age away?” He waits for her to say his baby face.

“You weren’t asked for an ID. Out in the open. Even with him knowing you. You’d have been asked if you were going to consume alcohol. Just in case of narcs. I’m guessing that drink doesn’t contain alcohol.”

“Did you watch him make the drink?”

“No. But that camera over there.” She doesn’t point. “Jimmy would never allow that in his establishment. Now private rooms where there might be a few minors he’d let that slide.”

“You know the owner.”

“If you mean know as in… He dated my mom than yes I know him.”

“Past tense. Guess it ended amicable or you wouldn’t be here.”

She nods taking another sip of her drink, “He’s got a smiling sun tattoo on his butt cheek.”

“What?”

“Things you wish to never see but my momma doesn’t know how to have signals that she’s busy entertaining.”

“Ew. I couldn’t imagine catching my parents.”

“At least you know they did the deed once to get you.”

“I have a sister.”

“Okay.” She laughs, “Pardon me, twice at least.”

He likes her laughter. Among the list of other things. He’s about to say something else when a buddy of his is trying to get his attention. Felicity shifts to follow Oliver’s line of sight and she sees another good-looking guy using hand signals to converse with the tall college student she’s been getting to know. Trying not to eavesdrop she repositions back to the original posse before him.

“Need to leave?”

Oliver responds with a firm no. As his eyes trail back to hers. She can see whatever the other guy said has made him go red in the face.

“Are you alright? You’re red-faced.”

He shakes his head. Letting out a self-deprecating moan.

“What’s the deal?”

Oliver’s bites his lip as she can tell he’s radically thinking. She can pinpoint it in his eyes when a decision is made and wow those blue eyes are so distracting.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What about your friends?”

“They can live without me for some time. I’d like to get to know you. We’re in Vegas. Let’s paint this town red.”

“Or you can let a native show you to some hidden gems.”

“Hmm. I’d like that even better.”

She slides off her chair and Oliver gulps as his eyes travel down her backside. She’s already leading them towards the exit.

“Do you need to say goodbye.”

“Nah, they’ll get the message if they don’t see me.” He walks a little quicker to get the exit door opened for her to leave first.

“Then you’re with the death witch. Getting the ride of your life.” Felicity could make some of his friend’s words. Her goth chicness being too much for the boy. “Something in those lines if I’m correct.”

“Yet, no one tried to save me.”

“You need new friends then.”

“Definitely. That is if they didn’t also think your hot.”

“Thanks, I guess. I turned away from your conversation around once he did the age-old sign for… um… coupling.”

“He sure did.” They find themselves in the dessert heat. Oliver waiting for her instruction but adds, “Felicity?” As he gets her undivided attention, “I don’t expect anything down those lines. It would be insulting and…”

“Oliver, I wouldn’t come outside if I didn’t want to get to know you better.” She winks well sort of winks and it makes him chuckle slightly.

#olicity #cruzrogue #oliver queen #felicity smoak #Cisco Ramon

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sweet-nebulae · 5 years

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may i request dom!reader having the rfa wear a skirt?

♡ Did.. did I write this request? Hehe it sounds like something I’d ask to see! ^^ I definitely can try my hand at it, anonnie! I hope it’s okay!

♡ You said RFA, and I don’t like leaving Jaehee out of anything! So it’s a bit [a lot] different than the others, but she’s included in this too ^^

♡ Fair warning that Yoosung and Saeyoung’s are a bit smutty while the others are lightly smutty

✿ Zen ✿

You’d think he’d be more against it - and he’s not exactly super into it, but it takes a lot less convincing than you’d think

Is a bit awkward at first, but gets into it pretty quickly

It’s not like it’s the most revealing thing he’s worn - the biggest issue for him is that it’s something so stereo-typically feminine, and he is.. not

Yeah that’s sort of the point Zenny

Won’t let you take any pictures of him like that, but will agree to it if the two of you ‘disguise’ him first

It takes him way too long to realize he’s just steadily over-taking Saeyoung’s role as the cutest crossdresser

Natural competition helps to keep him coming back to it, thanks Saeyoung

Takes a looong time before he feels comfortable doing anything remotely sexual below the waist while wearing one, but once he hits the comfort threshold

He’s down for anything

The Beast doesn’t give a shit what it’s wearing, after all

✿ Yoosung ✿

Blushes

Blushes a LOT

Before he’s even wearing it he’s blushing

His new mantra has become “If hyung can do this, so can I”

And he’s fucking cute in it too

Not really uncomfortable, just incredibly shy - he trusts you, so he’ll just quietly look to you for instruction on anything regarding it

And he has to admit, they’re really handy for rewards, aka hand-jobs or blow-jobs

And you think they’re pretty damn handy for punishments through the fabric

Ultimately just the perfect boi for this

Needs lots of reassuring and praise tho

Tell him he looks good! ‘Cause he does!

Literally drown him in compliments and kisses to the face and he won’t even remember why he was embarrassed in the first place

He can handle emasculation pretty well, but

If you take it too far it’s just gonna cause that switch in him to flip and he’ll suddenly be dom!Yoosung, skirt or not

✿ Jaehee ✿

She wears a business skirt all the time, so it’s not really a big deal for her

But she doesn’t really make a habit of wearing them in her off time

So when you suggest picking one out for her to wear around the house she’s..

Well, she’s intrigued, but she also knows exactly what you’re going to do so she just raises her eyebrows at you

Who’s the true dom/me here

Since it’s just the two of you, and you’re in the safety of your own home, she has surprisingly zero problems with wearing the short skirt you picked out

And then proceeds to be as hellishly beautiful teasing as possible doing every mundane possible thing around the house

I promise you, by the end of the day she’ll have ‘dropped’ about 42 different things she had to pick up right in front of you

You chose that type of skirt for a reason though, right?

At least she won’t fight you when you want it off of her

Is that obvious enough, y’all get what I mean right

✿ Jumin ✿

Probably handles it the worst out of everyone in the RFA

He’s not going to fight you on it, but he’s not.. comfortable

Though that’s sort of the point, right?

Keeps his arms crossed to show his displeasure

Except really you know it’s just a nonverbal cue he’s uncomfortable

Compliments and praise is gonna work the exact opposite on him as it did the others so far

Compliment him once or twice and then be done with it - act totally nonchalant about it all and he’ll start to relax

Kind of

Will relax a lot more if you make a show out of making sure the doors are locked beforehand

He doesn’t see the appeal unfortunately well, maybe a bit, but not on him but he’s not really going to judge you if you do

In fact, something as simple as this.. he could get used to it pretty quickly if it got you all hot and bothered

Who’s manipulating who? It’s really hard to tell anymore, but in the end you’re both happy

✿ Saeyoung ✿

Lights up

Throws open his closet

“Which one?”

Will absolutely love letting you dictate what he should wear.. so long as you don’t have horrendous fashion taste ofc

If you enjoy it he will totally dedicate a day out of the week to letting you dress him up however you want

He’ll be your doll, no argument from him

Please make the pun about him being your ‘babydoll’ before he does

Will brighten even more if you’re down to let him do the same, regardless of your gender

Be warned though that there’s a 70% chance that he’s gonna get handsy no matter who’s being dressed up and it’ll just end up in half-clothed sex

If you’re into it, he really has no problem with remaining dressed in cute skirts or dresses the entire day, in public or not

Saeran and Vanderwood might mind him doing that, but you overrule them, in his opinion

So long as you’re comfortable with it, and he’s comfortable with it, he doesn’t mind things like this at all

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger smut #mysme smut #mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #💛#🧡#💜#💖#🖤

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toomanysweaters-moved · 5 years

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Alright, so I’ve mentioned what Noelle would be like entering the Dark World in little bits before, but since it’ll probably become more common soon (winks at @deltagram & @vibrantsouled), I felt she needed a more thorough HC dump.

Appearance-

Alright, so this is pretty much the design I’ve accepted as canon in my head, but for the sake of levity & preservation, I’ll put the design into text based on what I see in my mind’s eye when I think of her falling into a closet.

Her Dark World outfit is, for all intents and purposes, a more Christmas-y Red Riding Hood costume; a dress skirt, blouse, and a little poncho/cloak thing with fluffy, Santa-esque frills. The outfit is primarily red with the Santa-fluff being a minty green instead of white; the same color as her hair is tinted when there.

In terms of items on her person, her “weapons” are instruments, as she’s classed as a bard. She starts with a simple bell, and if her gear is properly upgraded would end up with a lyre; all of which, oddly enough, she can play despite never having held an instrument in her life... only in the Dark World.

She also has a “stocking of holding”, which is basically just a colorful version of the purse she has normally, that has “theoretically infinite storage”. However, it’s already full of a crazy amount of swords (AKA this is a joke and if you get it ily).

Abilities-

As I mentioned before, Noelle is a bard; specifically one built for the role of support. I’ve had a lot of ideas about things she could do in an effort to make her distinct from Ralsei, and here’s what I’ve come up with as far as spells:

At the start of the adventure, Noelle would have “one” spell very simply labeled “Play a Song”; with the flavor text explaining she has numerous songs, all beneficial to the entirety of the party, that she’ll randomly choose from.

Upon choosing the spell, she’ll play one of these; each coming with a short (ten seconds & skippable) bit of audio that silences the current battle music (think Shyren’s singing in Undertale) before the effect goes through.

Song of Heart- Made up from pieces of Toriel motifs (Fallen Down & Heartache), grants a regeneration buff to all members of the party so they’ll regenerate health each turn for three turns, at a rate decent enough to be useful, but not enough to overshadow Ralsei’s targeted healing.

Song of Tenacity- Made up from pieces of Undyne motifs (Waterfall & Spear of Justice), grants a “haste” buff to Kris’s SOUL for three turns, letting it move faster & giving it longer invincibility frames.

Song of Gusto- Made up from pieces of Mettaton’s motifs (Metal Crusher & Death by Glamour), grants a significant DEF buff to the party.

Notes: All of them sound Christmas-y, regardless of motifs. Songs will directly continue from where they left off the last time you got the chance to use them, and if the audio was manually put together would form full songs.

Simple Motif Choice Explanations:

Toriel heals you if you’re injured in Undertale.

You have to RUN AWAY from Undyne in Undertale.

Mettaton (as a box) has the highest DEF in Undertale.

I honestly just wanted to add a bit of flair, since music was one of the main appeals of Undertale for me, and a bard could really show that off.

During a crucial moment akin to the Spade King fight, where Noelle’s will may change, her “Play a Song” spell will be replaced by a “Song of Hopes & Dreams”; as is probably obvious, the song would be made up of Asriel motifs (SAVE the World, His Theme, and obviously Hopes & Dreams), and would grant the benefits of the previous thee songs all at once.

Noelle very likely has access to more songs than these for interactions and stuff, but these are what I’d see her having in actual gameplay terms.

Aside from that, Noelle has another useful ability in the form of an ACT rather than a SPELL: if she’s a part of the party long enough to see a type of enemy get spared (not pacified) three times, afterwards she’ll permanently have a unique ACT option for those specific enemies at all times labeled “Gift”.

This results in her, who would’ve thought, giving a fully wrapped Christmas gift to the enemy in question unique to them; usually relating to whatever their spare conditions were. This results in the enemy immediately leaving the battle overjoyed with their present, skipping any required sparing steps.

She needs to see an enemy leave the battle on their own accord three times first so that she knows what makes them happy and can come up with a gift.

#Got a new story for every year! // Headcanon //#Gyftmas carol the pain away~! // Lightner //#i got very gamy with these i'm a nerd sorry

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jadevndermeer · 5 years

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( dua lipa. 24. cisfemale. she/her. ) ❛ jade vandermeer, an aries from seattle, washington, moved into holloway three years ago. they are a musician that lives in apartment 5d here and their neighbors don’t particularly mind them. some say they can be volatile and impulsive but others say they’re bold and magnetic. anyways, one thing is for sure: you hear tongue tied by grouplove, it’s jadey-v blasting it.

INTRODUCTION : JADE VANDERMEER

hey! it’s ya girl jess & i’m here with my girl, jade. a little about me, in case you didn’t see my lil ooc intro in the discord – i’m 22 and in the bst timezone. i’m ur local bisexual aries disaster who is indie band trash & resides in rainy england. i played johnny before the revamp ( the nico mirallegro fc! ) and was also an admin for a lil bit. without further ado, here’s my babe!

my d*iscord is @ soft aries#7087 & i prefer to plot there over IMs!

jade’s pinterest board can be found here!

BACKGROUND

jade is the daughter of two business-people. the pair of them strict & straight as a line for her whole childhood. she was born in seattle, but since her father is dutch (hence her last name) and her mother is albanian, the family spent a lot of time travelling to their respective homelands, which was just about the most fun she had as a child. when at home in baltimore, she was kept under close supervision as her parents were the typical snobby, superficial semi-wealthy types and way too overprotective.

leaving the states for long periods at a time made it somewhat hard for jade to keep a friendship group, so she found fun in things that she could do alone like songwriting, singing and learning to play bass guitar. these were just hobbies at first until she entered her mid-teen years and began to take it more seriously, knowing she had the talent to do so.

music forced her to come out of her shell massively. it gave her the confidence to. kids at school would want to hear her play all the time, and she was happy to show off her talents to others, which helped her to make friends

of course, around this time is when she developed a taste for fun. she wanted to hang out and go to parties and stuff like a normal teenager but again, her parents were still being way too strict & sheltering her

so she had to make do with sneaking out when she could, and when she couldn’t go have fun she continued to refine her passion as a musician, starting to post covers & original songs to youtube and bandcamp & even managing to get quite a substantial fanbase

however, her parents weren’t happy with this. they thought that music wasn’t a real job and that she needed to follow in the family footsteps and work towards being employed by their business. so, they made sure to only extend the offer of financial support through college if she promised to study business, marketing or something similar. and so, she had no choice but to agree to their ultimatum

she began studying at a university in new york, with a degree in business management. of course — she hated it. her studies didn’t align with her passion and so, to the dismay of her parents, she dropped out only a year and a half in.

it was around this time that jade’s parents figured out that she was going to pursue the music thing no matter what and she wouldn’t be working for the family business. their ultimatum had technically failed, and jade was worried about potential problems between herself and her parents if she were to go back to seattle. and so, the search for a roommate in new york started. she moved into holloway as a matter of urgency

she could finally focus on being herself and taking up music as her full-time focus. there was an issue though, she needed a band. though, that issue was solved when she got together with some fellow holloway residents to form the indie rock band solar eclipse. with jade on bass, of course !!

jade worked as a barista and spent any free time she had working on music with solar eclipse. over the past few years, they’ve managed to take off quite a bit — they’ve signed to a record label, so jade quit her barista job and the band started to work on an album! everything seems to be falling into place.

PERSONALITY

fiery aries lady. aka charismatic and magnetic but do not cross her bad side sksksk

comes across kind of self-centred / vain but really she’s just super proud of herself and has a lot of self-confidence?

very all or nothing. doesn’t like to half-ass things. v determined and inspired at all times

can be a lil intense but is high-key lovely, v sweet and loyal, cares about her friends so much

she has a very strong personality and can be a bit of a liability. does a lot of things she regrets. doesn’t always think before she speaks

impulsive and unpredictable, she’s one of those extroverts that can become draining to be around after a while. she’s so talkative and excitable, a little too much. your muse may find her annoying or endearing depending on what they’re like

a bicon ( shocker.... not )

hopeless romantic, idealist / optimist, quixotic type.

aesthetics: yellow, converse high tops, vinyl pressings of all great indie records, denim mini skirts, mischievous grins, gold glitter

i’m gonna stop here bc i reallllly wanna jump into some plotting !

SUGGESTED CONNECTIONS

best friend(s) — it’s probably a given that this is taken up by her bandmates but i’m open for her to have more too! only requirement for this is that they vibe well with her personality!

past college friend(s) — friends she met at college before she dropped out. maybe they drifted after she left & now they’ve graduated and their friendship will rekindle in holloway?

bad influence — jade is a mischievous little binch. loves to party, go on wild spontaneous adventures, still has a rebellious streak thanks to growing up with strict parents. this person is a bit of a partner in crime for jade, always convincing her to join them in doing dumb shit

good influence — maybe another musician who mentors her as well, but this isn’t required? basically just anyone who can keep her grounded when her [ jenna marbles vc: ARIES ] energy causes her to wild out

exes (on good or bad terms) — i love angst k thanks. if they’re on good terms, maybe they stayed friends & they’re still in love w jade but she doesn’t know ? if it’s bad terms maybe the relationship ended rly messily or they cheated on her and now they can’t stand each other, idc just gimme angst

a slow burn love interest — i’m not a fan of ship plots that happen right away like??? i like a cute plot that can build and develop for a while !! gimme a lil somethin somethin. our characters have to really work together for this tho so ig i’ll be picky when it comes to this plot

anything honestly!! hmu and if none of these appeal to you we can brainstorm!

#hollowayintro.#( late as always )#☼ 𝑜𝑜𝒸.

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checkoutafrica · 5 years

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The Breakdown: Where Does The African Fabric Really Come From?

Many Africans would only wear the fabric for special occasions but as times are changing the print is becoming a part of everyday fashion and seeing as the African wax print is becoming more and more mainstream I thought it’d be a good idea to give you guys a little history lesson on the fabric!

We all love the African wax print, it’s bright, vibrant, it’s colourful and full of life but what is the story behind the fabric? The print gained its popularity in global fashion in 2010 but it has been in existence for 100s of years. We cannot forget that Africa is, in fact, a continent and not one country as some people would forget (the ignorant), so when we talk about these African prints, what are we really talking about? Do they even originate from Africa?

The Dutch wax is a kind of resin-printed fabric that has forever been manufactured in the Netherlands for the West African market. But we can neither call these fabrics Dutch or West African because we’d be ignoring the bigger picture, there is an entirely far more complicated story behind the origin of the African Fabric. Yinka Shonibare, the well-known Nigerian artist whose work often features these prints, has made a career out of exploring the history of the designs. “The fabrics are not really authentically African the way people think,” Shonibare has said. “They prove to have a crossbred cultural background quite of their own.” he was quoted by online magazine Slate.

Thanks to the industrial revolution and colonial expansion in the late 19th century, our story begins in the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia), where locals have long used the technique of wax-resist dying (applying wax to a cloth, and then dying over that wax to create a pattern—to make batik. One widespread theory is that in the mid-19th century, the Dutch enlisted a bunch of West African men—both slaves and mercenaries—to help their army in Indonesia. While there, these men took a liking to the local handicrafts and brought batik back to their home countries which you can imagine was the start of the ‘African’ Fabric.

Europe tried competing with the Batik by creating their own cheaper versions and by the end of the 19th century, a Belgian printer had developed a method for applying resin to both sides of a cotton cloth, and the machine-made wax-print fabric was born. Unfortunately, the Dutch dyes created cracks, so new markets had to be found aka Africa. In 1893 the first Dutch wax prints landed in the African Gold Coast (now Ghana), where they became style and status symbols. During the 1950s, their appeal spread across West Africa, when the Mercedes-Benz driving female entrepreneurs (known as the Nana Benz) bought the fabrics into Togo and gave them names to add mystique.

Africa’s fight for independence in the 1960s led to wax prints being made locally. More recently, cheap Chinese copies have made wax prints more accessible to the rest of the world explaining why African fashion has become so popular in the last couple of years. Now, wax prints are worn by everyone with anything from jeans, skirts, trainers etc.

And that is the history of the African fabric.

The post The Breakdown: Where Does The African Fabric Really Come From? appeared first on CheckoutAfrica.

from WordPress http://www.checkoutafrica.com/african-fabric-really-come/

#Fashion #africa #africa development #african #African fashion #Checkoutafrica #culture #love #People

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lesbugs-advice · 5 years

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I NEED SOME FASHION advice plz. I like to where Bomber jackets over a regular hoodie and A fandom shirt with some jeans. Owo And I'm kinda short I need some other options

I mean this is a Sapphic Advice blog, so I’m going to be honest I’m not sure why you’re coming to me for fashion advice, but *cracks knuckles* I’ll give you some anyway!

-Leather Jackets. Fringe. Aka, my 12th grade homecoming outfit.

-I’d alternate between the bomber and the hoodie instead of wearing them both - try the bomber, and tucking the shirt into your pants. :)

-Instead of sticking with regular jeans all the time, try different colored or patterned pants- it makes your outfit stand out more and look more unique- for example, I have a pair of highwaisted goldenrod yellow pants, and they take my outfits from, like, a five to an eight with Minimum effort

-I totally get the appeal of fandom shirts - I get a t-shirt at every concert I go to and just wear those all the time, but mix it up a little! Plain tees are somtimes a good thing, and buttondowns/flannels, whether they’re thrown over a shirt or a tanktop, or worn buttoned like they’re intended, (or worn open but the ends are tied in a knot at the waist which may have been out of fashion for a while, but it keeps a long buttondown that you can’t tuck in from looking frumpy, and sue me, I think it’s cute) are generally a good thing

-I’ve been super into big pullover sweaters lately, they’re comfortable, but also cute!

-From your description you don’t seem like a skirt-wearer, but don’t be afraid of skirts. I used to have a tea-length, fifties-eque, plaid skirt, and I’d pair it with a Bikini Kill t-shirt and a pair of platform booties. Skirts don’t always have to be Uberfeminine!

-A good hat is always appreciated, especially now that it’s getting cold. Even if it’s just a beanie, it adds more to your outfit. I’ve been wearing this grey beret I got from a friend a lot lately, and it makes even the most simple outfit look cute!

This was super long, I actually get really excited about clothes and stuff.

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purrpetrator · 6 years

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character study » bruce wayne / batman

** This really is a very very very long post. But it’s thorough, going from 1940 to 2018...you can reblog or bookmark if this serves as any point of reference. I feel like I just wrote a whole dissertation on my OTP.

As unfortunate as it sounds, Catwoman would not exist without Batman. The story of the Bat & the Cat is a tale as old as time, starting with the very first issue of Batman back in 1940. Their relationship is characterized as volatile and passionate, full of thrill-seeking, competition, and regret. But with the culmination of a 78-year old relationship coming on July 4th, I thought it’d be a good time to talk about what role Bruce Wayne and Batman play for Selina Kyle and Catwoman. I’ll include some notes about my own interpretation and my own ideas, but this is all source material, 99% from the comics.

Back in Batman #1, we are introduced to three distinct villains: Hugo Strange, the Joker, and Catwoman. Catwoman is naturally nothing like the other two, posing a much less considerable threat to Batman than they do. He catches her on a boat (which begins Bruce’s adamant stance that they first met on a boat) disguised as an elderly woman trying to steal a $500,000 diamond necklace.

He should’ve been able to turn her in, but alas, in Batman fashion, he does not try very hard -- saying something about ‘lovely eyes’ before watching her speed away on a boat, totally smitten. Typical. So the Catwoman appeared in several comics during the 1940s, used to add a layer of sex appeal to the Batman comics.

Then some bullshit called the Comics Code Authority effectively banned Catwoman from the comics from 1954 to 1966, citing a violation of the rules of female characters, seduction, and illicit sex relations in comic books. I’m glad that thing is not in use anymore.

So during this time, how were the writers going to appeal to their female readers who “were only interested in romance”? They brought in Kate Kane, Batwoman 1 (but not his cousin but his aunt-by-marriage ?) and married her to Batman.

Needless to say this was a big flop. They ended up scrapping it and calling it one of “Dick’s Dreams”. The larger effect this had on Batman lore was that it ultimately poised Batman to be a solitary figure without room for a serious or committed relationship.

Surprisingly, though, Bruce Wayne does get involved, quite seriously, with Selina Kyle (knowing she is Catwoman, in an attempt to -- you guessed it -- rehabilitate her) to the point where she falls in love with him and decides to leave Batman. But, unsurprisingly, this relationship does not last very long.

The Silver and Bronze Age (c. 1956-1985) of DC Comics, like most other periods in DC Comics, was an unstable and ever-changing period with re-prioritizations and re-imaginings. This meant that, naturally, Bruce and Selina’s relationship would be difficult to pin down, therefore starting a legacy of the “on-again, off-again” dynamic.

Throughout this period, though she sometimes helped him, Selina continued to act like a criminal, and was portrayed as increasingly obsessed with the Bat and having the goal of marrying him. Batman, on the other hand, was preoccupied with “rehabilitating” her -- whatever that really means, you sly fox.

That last one was a dream, but what a guest list, amirite??

But the Bat, according to the writers, isn’t really the marrying type. Not on Prime Earth, anyway. So, to salvage their female readership, the Batman team introduces Earth-Two, where Bruce and Selina marry and have Helena. It can’t go without angst, though, and naturally Selina dies young at the hands of a blackmailer, causing their daughter to become the Huntress.

Now, here’s where the Crisis on Infinite Earths (1985) resets everything. This is going to happen more than once, so buckle up. So now we go to Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One, where Selina Kyle is introduced as a ?? dominatrix-esque prostitute ?? who just casually decided to put on the Catsuit. (As you might tell, I am not a fan.)

This is where Selina’s version of how they met, “on the street”, comes about. Bruce is disguised as Matches Malone, doing his thing in the East End, when he gets involved in a scuffle with Stan, the Pimp, and accidentally whacks Holly. Selina, watching from her apartment, jumps in. Literally. And the two get into a nice little fight.

It’s during this period where Selina is more involved with serving her own brand of justice, which I am a fan of. Now, from 1985 to 2002, nothing particularly notable happens for the Bat and the Cat. What I mean is, Selina skirts on the fence between crime and justice, Batman stops her, sometimes imprisons her, and tries to change her.

Some things to note, though, during this period, Batman’s genuine belief in how good a person Selina really is starts to really shine through. It’s around this time that Selina’s pre-Crisis infatuation for the Bat melts away to genuine love. A sort of friendship built around familiarity and understanding begins to blossom between them, too, so even when they were “off” they still cared for one another. And naturally, sexual tension was always there.

They do their game of cat-and-mouse for almost two decades before Hush comes around. And Hush changes everything! I could do a character study on the Hush arc alone, but i’ll try to truncate it as much as possible.

So we start out with he same old cat-and-mouse game, where Batman doesn’t turn Catwoman in, and Bruce dates Selina in real life because she’s one of the few people he actually cares for, both in and out of suit. His feelings for Selina become a liability as he’s constantly having to choose between saving her and staying with the mission. Selina, on the other hand, is not a fan of losing the bad guy.

And this is the first time we really have a post-Crisis Bat admitting his feelings for Selina, especially after Talia beat her to a pulp. (Mind you, these are two different scenes.) The biggest thing to happen in Hush, though, aside from Batman and Catwoman “finally” kissing--

which is that kiss ! (the very one that got made into a collector’s figurine, sigh)

where he realizes how truly lonely he is :’( and he can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the mission :’)

-- is that Bruce reveals his identity to Selina, which was the ultimate testament of his trust for her. And this changes everything hereafter, because now Selina knows he’s Bruce Wayne.

Anyway, Selina isn’t about to just jump in and be Bruce’s love interest because everything with Bruce and Selina is complicated and never easy and they can never be happy apparently. So they fight at the end of Hush and Bruce, naturally, overanalyzes their relationship so, basically, they break up (until he’s ready). Nice.

But it’s not over yet! Tommy Elliot, aka Hush, realizes throughout this whole thing how truly important Selina is to Bruce. So, naturally, he targets her and steals her heart! Not in a fun, rom-com sort of way. He literally steals her beating heart to mess with Bruce. Talk about fucked up.

... quite literally. But, fortunately for us readers, it leads us to the biggest ?? confession of love from Batman. Y’all can cry with me as I did when I read this.

Bitch ! I cry every time. Ok, so moving on from Hush.

We already talked about Helena, but it should be worth noting that Bruce, though often busy, played as much an active role as he could in giving Selina help. And this, naturally, added another layer of trust and love in their relationship.

Alright, so for the next nine years, Bruce and Selina share plenty of sweet moments outside of the cowl, usually beneath the pretense that they aren’t their nocturnal personas and that they can be normal for once.

Selina’s always wanting to leave Gotham and leave behind her life as Catwoman, but Bruce is the one thing that really keeps her there so, naturally, she’s always trying to get him to leave it with her.

(But we all know that’s a pipe dream.)

And as an add-on to that same “let’s pretend we’re not Bat and Cat” trope, here’s one of the sweetest scenes in BatCat history, from Catwoman v3 #32:

And during their date, Selina tells him she doesn’t remember ever hearing him laugh like that. And he says:

That’s not to say their sweet moments are limited to being de-cowled. There are several times where Selina has pushed Bruce to try to be in touch with his human side, to be vulnerable, to feel. Because he’s the type to lock himself up in the Bat-Persona and forget who Bruce really is.

All is fine and dandy in the world of the Bat and the Cat, until the New 52 reboot comes about. Then, like most things in the New 52, it all went to shit. Batman and Catwoman’s relationship lost the element of trust that Hush had instilled with Bruce revealing his identity. Selina was depicted as more neurotic than she actually is and without the depth of emotion she felt for Batman/Bruce.

I still think it’s worth mentioning because ?? it changed so much for them in the most recent depictions. And y’all should be aware of everything, even the bad.

It was a hyper sexualized arc that I personally did not enjoy. I don’t think anyone really enjoyed anything from the New 52 but hey.

Like ?? Really? Anyway, this is why we don’t recognize that. Don’t even talk about it.

So. Moving on to Rebirth. I won’t go too in-depth here because it’s the most current thing and I’m sure most of y’all are aware of what’s happening, but I will include some key panels.

In short: Catwoman is accused of killing 237 terrorists who blow her old orphanage. Batman knows she’s innocent, but can’t prove it, so he takes her in. He then needs her help to beat Bane, and he also wants to work out her case to prove her innocence, so he breaks her out of death row and employs her help. She helps him, everything works out. Then, Gotham Girl (a new superhero) starts talking to him about what he wants/needs and he realizes how lonely he really is and what it is that he’s lacking.

Naturally, some several issues later, she says yes and the BatCat wedding is set to July 4th.

Another great thing that Tom King did was really encapsulate how well Selina understands Bruce. (Though I’m not a fan of the whole women-fighting-over-a-man thing, I think this was used to convey how Selina knows him best? But that’s just my interpretation.)

A whole bunch of stuff happens and will happen from now till then, but this is where we are now. My two babies, getting some sort of closure after almost 80 years. And I really do hope it works out, because their Earth-Two counterparts seem really happy:

(Though I still don’t know how they ended up in that position ^ )

And, of course, I couldn’t go without mentioning the Bat and the Cat in their final years.

In conclusion: Throughout the past eighty years, the reboots, and the relaunches, the one thing that has remained constant has been their interconnectedness. Whether on opposite sides of the law or on the same team -- the similarities of their desires and fears, their common pain and their inescapable trauma, kept them coming back to one another. Bruce likes to think that he and Selina are very different (and to some degree, they are) but they’re both “creatures of the night” who aren’t entirely on the legal side of things. They get one another. They need one another. Selina brings out a part of his humanity; she gives him love, life, and laughter. Bruce, in turn, puts faith in her character that Selina has never had for herself. He makes her believe that she’s more than where she came from and she’s more than what she’s done.

For Selina, Bruce will always be her one true love, whether she’s with him or not. For Bruce, I’d like to think, like Tommy said, that Selina was the only one to truly hold his heart (but I’m very biased hehe). In my eyes, they’ll always be friends, if not lovers, due to their shared history, their experiences, and all that they have sacrificed.

#this took me....so many...... hours #if only i put as much effort into my school work as i did with this LOL #tbh i feel like i didn't add enough nuance #but there's sO MUCH SOURCE MATERIAL #i picked the most important/salient panels #this is the longest thing i've ever written #and i didn't get to talk about injustice at all #smh #or the playboy and the socialite dynamic #damn #( from the first kiss to the last (xx. batcat) )#「 CH. STUDY 」she’s got nine lives (she’s gonna need all of them).

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impracticaldemon · 6 years

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Be the Dragon Slayer, Chapter 8: “Maid to Order, Part II”

fanfiction by Impracticaldemon written for @nalufever (Happy Birthday!!)

Rated: M (for sexual content) Words: ~ 2200 Read on AO3 | FFnet

A/Note: Written for DancesWithSeatbelts aka @nalufever (tumblr) for her birthday. You wanted to know what happened next, since the story obviously wasn't quite finished (and neither were Natsu and Lucy!).

Follows directly after Maid to Order (written for Nalu Love Fest 2017).

Maid to Order, Part II Prompts: Role Play (Main), Lust, Chains

When Lucy returned from the kitchen, she was carrying a plate with a massive heap of fried potatoes, the thick wedges crisp and glistening with herb-flecked oil. Natsu could also smell a marinated roast of some kind, but apparently he'd have to wait for that. He was curious as to how he was going to eat his meal, since he had no cutlery, but he'd decided that his 'maid' would no doubt instruct him.

Lucy set the plate down in front of him and then solemnly re-linked their wrists with the thin chain. Natsu once again felt the not-quite-static of the magic in the chain. This time it brought with it a wave of arousal, as his body remembered the way Lucy had led him into the bathroom to 'wash' and the way her tongue had felt on his body.

Meanwhile, Lucy was bowing deeply again. Her cheeks were still a little flushed, but her expression was calm.

"I will now feed you, Master." She slid carefully, but deliberately across his lap so that she was straddling him. Then she twisted, her breasts just inches from his face, and picked up a golden wedge. "First, this one must make sure that the Master's food is well-prepared and not dangerous."

Natsu immediately anticipated that Lucy would make a performance of eating the potato wedge, but he hadn't expected her to start by licking delicately at the coating, her pink tongue at first barely touching the surface and then moving more… firmly. It was just like her to know how much he enjoyed savoury foods and to turn that to her advantage. Bananas might be more traditional for this kind of performance, but... Natsu found himself thinking that he'd never be able to look at fries the same way again. He squirmed a little and moved his hands to Lucy's hips, wondering why she'd even bothered helping him back on with his trousers. Lucy immediately stopped what she was doing.

"Master must not interfere with the tasting," she said in an admonishing tone. Although she did nothing that Natsu could make out, a current of energy seemed to pulse in the chain links around his wrist, making him blink. It wasn't quite painful, but it found a way to resonate in his bones that was uncomfortable.

"You're making it hard to sit still Luce," he muttered. Then he smirked—it was a dumb, obvious joke, but difficult to resist. "Or just making it hard."

Lucy leaned forward, her body pressing tightly against his chest and abdomen. She bent her mouth to his ear.

"Master must not be rude. He must be very, very good." Her breath was warm and moist, and her lips and teeth teased his skin; he turned his head in order to nip at her neck, but there was another pulse of magic, stronger this time, and the silvery bracelet seemed to tighten of its own volition. "Now then," Lucy continued, still murmuring gently into his ear, "time for Master to eat."

She sat up again, and Natsu discovered that somehow, at some point while they'd been pressed together, she'd unhooked her bra. A wriggle sent the pale blue lace off her breasts and down her arms. She pulled one hand free—the one that wasn't chained—and reached for the food.

Natsu was fighting not to reach for Lucy's breasts. For the first time that he could remember, he found it difficult to swallow his food, as Lucy pressed the warm, delicious potato wedges into his mouth with fingers that soon glistened with oil. Every time she moved to pick up another piece, her nipples grazed him and his hands twitched.

"Is it not good?" she asked after a while, appearing to pout. "Does Master not like his food?" She leaned forward and licked his lips, and then used her whole mouth to taste his more fully. "Mmmm," she all but purred at him. "It is too bad that the taste does not please Master."

"Uhh, no, that's not really the problem," Natsu told her sincerely.

Lucy looked down, as though concerned. "Perhaps Master is not comfortable?"

Natsu nodded vigorously. "Yeah, that's it. And getting more and more uncomfortable."

Lucy continued to look down, and Natsu saw that she was once again undoing the ties to his pants. Now what? He kept his hands firmly clenched at his sides.

"This one is very sorry that Master cannot enjoy his food properly," Lucy told him seriously, finishing with the ties and then slipping from his lap. "The situation must be resolved." She tried to frown, but a gleam in her eyes betrayed her. "Excuse me."

Lucy unlinked the bracelet from Natsu and allowed her bra to fall to the floor. Then she leaned down toward him and casually coiled the chain loosely about his neck and shoulders, removing his scarf and leaving it over the back of the chair. Natsu shivered, although the metal wasn't cold.

"Master must behave and not move, yes?"

"Uh—sure."

Lucy moved gracefully away to the kitchen, Natsu's eyes following every movement. He saw her transfer several large chunks of meat from a covered dish into a bowl, and then she came gliding back, bowl held aloft in one hand so that he could enjoy a perfect view of her now nearly-naked form. The meat smelled wonderful, Lucy smelled wonderful…

Setting down the bowl, Lucy tilted her head to survey Natsu's predicament. Being a kind woman, she started by choosing a tender piece of meat and popping it into Natsu's mouth. She got back an "mmm" of appreciation, and then knelt to remove Natsu's trousers, taking the time to stroke the hard muscles of his thighs and then calves. There was a rumbling sound from above her.

"Do I need to eat this time? Because to be honest—"

"Patience, Master. You will be fed, as is proper." Lucy stood up, hooking her hands under her skirt. Her panties joined the bra and most of Natsu's clothes on the floor.

"Lucy—"

"Yes, sir? Is this better, sir?" She slipped back onto his lap, hands running up his bare chest. One hand tangled in the back of his pink hair, drawing him into a very long, deep kiss. His arms came up involuntarily around her, but her free hand reached up and grasped the looped chain. She tugged on it, and energy ran down Natsu's arms, making all the fine hair stand on end.

"Dammit, Luce, I need to touch you!"

"It is time to eat. Perhaps the second course will be more to your liking. Can you reach the bowl, Master?"

"I don't want the bowl!"

"That is not polite, sir. It is time to eat. Now then…" Letting go of Natsu's hair, but still grasping the thin chain looped around Natsu's neck in one hand, Lucy rubbed her fingers into the wet folds between her legs, watching Natsu's eyes widen and feeling his erection twitch against her. Taking care to move slowly, she stroked first herself and then him, and then finally slid herself over and onto him with a sigh of pleasure that was echoed by a moan from Natsu.

"I want you," she whispered into his ear. "I want you so badly right now. I can't stop thinking about what you could do to me. Right here in this chair. Or maybe bent over the table." As Natsu bucked under her, grinding his body against hers, she yanked hard on the chain. The near-electric pulse raced over both of them, making them gasp in unison.

Lucy leaned back a little, expression challenging. "Master? This one must make sure that you eat properly. Otherwise"—a feigned woeful expression—"otherwise this one is a bad maid and cannot have what she wants…"

Natsu was panting, hands balled into fists at his sides. He could just ignore the games, pick up Lucy and fuck her until they were both exhausted. That really appealed. Instead, with every ounce of self-control at his disposal, he picked up the bowl from the table. It was worth it to see Lucy's eyes light up in surprise and then admiration. … And maybe a touch of chagrin?

"Alright, then. Since it obviously means so much to you."

With great deliberation, Natsu started to eat his way through the tender pieces of meat sitting in sauce in the bowl. Spicy juices ran down his fingers. Lucy kept her gaze on him, and they settled to their respective tasks: Natsu eating with fixed concentration, and Lucy using all of her finely trained muscles to ride him, her inner walls tight around his shaft as she moved above and around him. The seconds ticked by, and their breathing became more ragged. The silence was broken more and more often by soft moans as Lucy became tighter and wetter, and Natsu's muscles started to tremble with the need to move faster and seek release.

Natsu never forgot those few minutes. Eating—but not inhaling his food—while Lucy stroked his chest, and whispered in his ear, and pressed her incredible breasts against him. Warning tremors from the chain every time he wanted to touch anything but the food. Lucy in his lap—Lucy on him—Lucy's heat clenched around him.

The instant he was done—the meat, that is—Natsu reached out and grabbed Lucy's wrists.

"I've eaten like a good boy, Luce. Now I get to do what I want, right? Just so you know, that could take a while, because right now I can think of so many different ways I want to fuck you—and the only question is where to start." He pulled her mouth roughly against his, burying his tongue in her; the other hand gripped her ass hard. Her moan wasn't a protest; his sensitive ears could easily make out the whine of need and the harder tones of lust.

He moved them—or they moved—to the floor, to be able to move more freely, Natsu eventually on top and gripping Lucy's wrists tightly so that she was pinned. He bent his mouth to her breasts, making her pitch and cry out under him as he suckled and nipped at taut pink buds that he'd already teased hard with rough, knowing fingers.

"Natsu!"

"Oh?" he responded, half-breathless, half-teasing. "Not Master?"

He saw her gather herself for a counter-attack—if such it could be called—but kissed her before she could say anything.

"I've decided what I want-at least to being with," he told her. "First though…" He lifted the thin chain from where it had fallen and looped it about Lucy's wrists, tugging the links tight against her skin. "Now we can finish this in style—right? Since you did all this planning." He looked into her eyes and waited for her agreement.

"Yes… since I did all this planning, and since you've been such a good boy."

"I'm not your puppy, Luce." Lucy was caught off-guard when Natsu withdrew and tugged her over and onto all fours. He patted her ass and she looked back over her should at him. "But if that's what you're into, then let me see what I can do." A hand reached up between her legs, rubbing her clit—there was a lot to be said for experience, even if it was only a couple of months' worth. Then Natsu was inside her again, hands gripping her hips, and all she could do was scrabble at the carpet and try not to moan too loudly as he took her hard and fast and deep. Eventually, Lucy forgot about keeping the noise down.

It was a wild ride, and they came one after the other, shaking with the intensity of it. Afterward, they lay together on their sides on the carpet, panting, Natsu curled around Lucy's back.

"Fuck," muttered Natsu, forehead pressed against Lucy's shoulder blades.

"True."

"Yeah… but… but Lucy."

"Shh. I'm enjoying the afterglow." There was the tiniest pause, and then Lucy added, "And don't you dare feel guilty about it. It's all good—don't spoil it."

"Yes ma'am."

"Ha ha. You know, it wasn't a bad concept—the maid, I mean."

"Um, Lucy—you're… you're not going to write about this are you? That would be… um…"

"We'll see," Lucy replied mischievously, rolling over to face him. "After all, you said you had several ideas in mind for the rest of the evening." At Natsu's look of horror, she grinned, but said reassuringly: "No, to be honest… That was just my mind wandering off on a tangent. I can't really imagine writing about this kind of thing. It's way too personal, you know?"

"Yeah, okay… well, good." Natsu frowned. "Some people do though." Another minute passed and then he added: "Actually—now that I think about it, didn't you have that book of Erza's the other day? Seriously, I can't believe somebody writes that stuff! And you and Erza read it!"

Lucy blushed slightly, but refused to be fazed. Instead, she grinned. "Yeah? Well apparently so did you, or how would you know? In fact, maybe I should reconsider writing about sex. Now that you point it out—sex sells."

"Nice little chain you made for them," Loke remarked, eyes gleaming appreciatively.

"Thank you Loke-san. Discipline and punishment are important." Virgo bowed, maid's uniform as crisp and pristine as usual. "I was glad to be of service to Lucy-hime."

Loke nodded. "Of course." A very cat-like smile flitted across his face. "However, I do think that you should tell Lucy that there is no, ah, safety feature."

Virgo looked puzzled. "You mean, tell her that if the user's request is not fulfilled then the magical discharge continues to rise until the target dies? But why would she want an item for discipline that did not exact a full and proper penalty for disobedience?"

"I understand. Nevertheless, you will tell her, won't you?" Loke patted Virgo on the shoulder. "Not that I'm especially worried about Natsu. He appears to be resistant to everything the universe can throw at him. Still, best to tell Lucy, alright?"

Virgo bowed, and the two Celestial Spirits went their separate ways.

A/N: My, my... Oh well, sounds like everyone had a good time! All likes, rebogs and comments much appreciated.

#fairy tail #fanfiction #nalu #ficsforvera #impracticaldemon #happy birthday nalufever!

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ts1989fanatic · 7 years

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ts1989fanatic Sorry about posting this but it pissed me off so much I had to share it with other or have my head explode. I’m pretty sure I have seen other Daily Beast articles in the past by this same so called writer that were just as critical (WRONGLY) of Taylor Swift.

It’s Time for Taylor Swift to Denounce Her Neo-Nazi Admirers

The pop superstar is worshipped as an ‘Aryan goddess’ by the white supremacist community. In the wake of Charlottesville, the least she could do is speak out.

In a world overrun by the idiotic and underqualified, it’s tempting to credit public figures with nonexistent cunning or forethought.

As nice as it is to imagine that the president of the United States isn’t just “ad-libbing” on North Korea, the facts maintain that there isn’t any sort of political chess at play here—everyone and everything really is as dumb as it seems.

With one exception. In an era of unbridled ids, impetuous boys, and impromptu boasts, there is one woman who is consistently 10 steps ahead: a pop music Machiavelli and Svengali of mutually beneficial relationships who also happens to be a pretty talented EDM scribe.

Naturally we’re talking about Taylor Alison Swift (alias: Nils Sjoberg), a 27-year-old singer-songwriter with a rare talent for self-preservation. Taylor Swift famously maintains strict control over her brand, and has been criticized in the past for her superficiality and attention to detail. From drafting an A-list squad of giraffe-legged pals to threatening to take legal action against some ardent fans on Etsy, Swift seems like a woman who knows exactly what she wants. Taylor Swift might look like a harmless, sugary-sweet pop princess, but make no mistake: This woman keeps Ryan Reynolds’ soul in a calligraphy-labeled Mason jar on her Rhode Island estate. She is not fucking around.

Somehow, through sheer strength of will, Taylor Swift convinced her millions of fans that she was a very sweet and chill girl next door. She realized that feminism was in and began marketing herself as a proponent of girl power, a victim of narcissistic and entitled dudes who would, nevertheless and against all odds, persist. But Swift’s delicate house of vaguely feminist aphorisms and carefully posed lady-Instagrams came tumbling down last summer, when Kim Kardashian outed Swift on Snapchat. The details of that social media checkmate—Swift condemned Kanye’s lyrics, harnessed this victimhood for her public image, was thwarted by leaked footage of Kanye running the track by her in the studio and then reduced to a Notes app statement—are already the stuff of legend. It was the “Kim you’re doing amazing sweetie” heard ’round the world. Unexpectedly pushed into an abyss of unlikability and overexposure, Swift quickly went into crisis/self-imposed exile mode: R.I.P. Hiddleswift, highly publicized squad parties, post-workout crab walks, and the days of underestimating Mrs. Kim Kardashian West.

Luckily for those of us with an appetite for drama and Tracy Flick-style anti-heroines, Taylor Swift plays a long game. Last week, Swift made her first major move since the summer of her Snapchat discontent, testifying in court against former radio DJ David Mueller. The jury ultimately sided with Swift, who alleged that Mueller had “intentionally reached under [Swift’s] skirt, and groped with his hand an intimate part of her body in an inappropriate manner, against her will, and without her permission” during a 2013 meet-and-greet. What happened to Swift was horrible and, as her suit stresses, against her will. But how the pop star chose to present herself in court worked completely to her advantage. When asked about her knowledge of police procedurals, Swift joked about her love of Law & Order: SVU—relatable! When pressed on why no one else witnessed the groping, Swift countered, “Because my ass is located in the back of my body.” Humor, wit, poise, just enough venom and an anatomy lesson to boot? Is it just me, or is 2017 “taking the stand” Taylor Swift actually likable?

At a time when many of us are just barely surviving off a steady diet of revenge fantasies and rage, it makes perfect sense for Swift to rebrand herself a pretty blonde vengeance demon. Why be a saccharine singer-songwriter when you can be an Arya Stark? Likability is so close that TayTay can probably taste it, and I think I’ve come up with a way to finally put her over the edge: All Taylor Swift has to do is denounce neo-Nazis.

Denouncing neo-Nazis might sound like a low bar or a meaningless declaration—if you don’t happen to be rocking a Fred Perry polo and holding a tiki torch your buddy Cole picked up for you at Party City and/or the president of the United States, you should have no problem condemning Nazism. And why should a pop singer have to personally clarify her position on white supremacy? This question would be perfectly valid if we were talking about Selena Gomez, Katy Perry, Beyoncé, or any other major female celebrity who hasn’t been heralded in certain dark corners of the internet as an Aryan princess/secret neo-Nazi. Unfortunately, Taylor Swift has long taken on a starring role in some pretty sick Nazi fan fiction.

In an in-depth 2016 Broadly article, neo-Nazi Andrew Anglin of The Daily Stormer explained Swift’s fashy appeal: “Firstly, Taylor Swift is a pure Aryan goddess, like something out of classical Greek poetry. Athena reborn. That’s the most important thing,” Anglin insisted. “It is also an established fact that Taylor Swift is secretly a Nazi and is simply waiting for the time when Donald Trump makes it safe for her to come out and announce her Aryan agenda to the world. Probably, she will be betrothed to Trump’s son, and they will be crowned American royalty.”

Now, it follows that Swift wouldn’t want to dignify these lunatic ravings with a response, or spend any more time than absolutely necessary contemplating a relationship with either of Donald Trump’s large adult sons. But at a certain point—preferably before a white supremacist website publishes dozens of posts praising her Aryan bloodline—it might behoove a celebrity to publicly condemn the racist anti-Semites who are claiming her as their queen. People like Anglin seem to genuinely believe that Swift will be on their side come race war Armageddon. And now that Nazis and counter-protestors are actually fighting in the streets, there’s no time like the present for Taylor Swift to finally come out as anti-Nazi.

After an act of domestic terrorism in Charlottesville left one woman dead, The Daily Stormer—aka Taylor Swift’s unofficial fan site—mocked the victim of the white nationalist attack. For GoDaddy, The Daily Stormer’s obscene and disturbing language was enough to convince them to finally dump the neo-Nazi website. Taylor Swift needs to get in on all this Nazi condemnation action. Why should Jennifer Lawrence get all the likes?

Now, in the past, Swift has scrupulously avoided any sort of political statement. She expresses her “feminism” through sanitized non-statements like, “I’m proud to be a woman today, and every day.” Not only did she refuse to endorse a presidential candidate—she wouldn’t even denounce the candidate who was accused of serial sexual assault. Given Swift’s history of failing to do the bare minimum, and her past swastika mini-scandal, it’s unlikely that she’ll make an anti-Nazi statement. Then again, the bar has never been so low. No one is expecting Taylor Swift to go on the campaign trail for Kamala Harris or exhibit a working knowledge of intersectionality—just to condemn the neo-Nazi community that’s already claimed her as one of their own.

Say it after me, TayTay: “I, Taylor Swift, denounce Nazis. And I am not attracted to Eric Trump.”

ts1989fanatic THIS IS TOTAL BULLSHIT AND Taylor should ignore this crap.

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lewdladylily · 4 years

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This is primarily for Anna, she wanted to see what I had been working on. This is maybe the first half of the story I have been working on, most of what I have ready to publish. around 3600 words so far, and there is at least 4000 more already written for the story.

So this story is fanfiction for a story that is roughly 600k words (the story sounds like nonsense but it is excellent, really great stuff), so a bit of information is necessary for people to understand this story out of context. You might miss some references but you should be able to get the basics and enjoy it.

Erin Penna - The viewpoint character for this fic. A submissive who recently awakened to the fact that she is very much into the idea of mind control and long term slave play. She recently discovered she is (essentially) part succubus. Was given the submissive name “Copper Swallow” by Illyria.

Illyria - Main character of the story this is based on, aka Cindy. Erin believes her to be some sort of non human magical creature with significant magic power, possibly Fae. She is actually human and just pretending to be Fae. She has a huge selection of powers, most related to sex.

Yoal-yohuali - an immensely powerful magical woman/creature that mind controlled Erin temporarily. Is actually Illyria, aka Cindy, who was using her powers to disguise herself when she randomly came across Erin. For reasons not relevant to this fic Cindy does not want her various identities to be connected, hence the different disguises.

Untitled (as of now) story

Erin had been scouring the internet for information. She had a new goal in life that meant understanding BDSM, mind control, and above all magic was a must for her. So far she was having mixed success; there was plenty of useful stuff about BDSM, mind control was mostly fanciful stories but hypnosis did seem to have real legs to it, and she had hit a brick wall when it came to actual magic. There was just too much misinformation. Some of it seemed right, some of it looked like nonsense, and she didn't know enough yet to start sorting through it. Ned was her only reliable contact to that world and his advice continued to be "take it slow and cautious". He wasn’t telling her anything useful, at least not yet. He clearly seemed to think she might do something rash given the chance.

Old people being rational and responsible was not something Erin was interested in right now.

At least she had found some nice sexy stories to read. She was currently working her way through a story about a demon and a succubus taking turns tormenting a grad student, all sorts of fun in a lot of ways she was discovering appealed to her. She was also technically following Mistress Illyria's instructions, though she was far past her second edge for the night. It was very hard to stop even if she was just torturing herself with what she couldn't have.

Bzzt Bzzt!

Running on autopilot Erin picked up her phone, keeping her eyes on the story she was reading and one hand on the vibrator between her legs. At the end of a paragraph she took a glance over to her phone.

1 Message: Mistress Illyria

Her heart leapt, story instantly forgotten and vibrator hastily discarded while she opened the message.

< Has my Copper Swallow been good? Following your rules?

Erin almost cried in relief.

Finally!

> Yes Mistress, I have followed your commands.

It had been a rough few days. Illyria’s command to edge herself and to not orgasm had come at the worst time imaginable. Erin wondered if that was on purpose or if it had been more ‘luck’ magic. She’d been mind controlled, walked through the city like a pet, been used by a crowd of strangers, and had her first experiences really indulging her masochism. It was a whirlwind of sexual firsts and she had been allowed nothing but teasing and frustration afterwards. It had been hell holding herself back for Illyria but this made it all worth it, she had been good. Maybe she would get a reward, maybe she had passed some test and shown herself worthy of her attention. Maybe Illyria would want to keep her.

It was a reckless hope. She could almost hear the lecture Ned would give her about keeping herself safe, how she knew almost nothing about Illyria, how dangerous it was to throw yourself at a stranger’s mercy. He was right of course, but he also didn’t understand. There was something right about an owner that had chosen her instead of the other way around, and Illyria was the first who had chosen her. It wasn’t romantic, not exactly, but it was something akin to romance and she had to at least give it a shot.

Erin fidgeted with her phone as time dragged on before Illyria’s response. “On edge” didn’t begin to describe her nerves right now, she was terrified her effectively complete ignorance of everything to do with Illyria’s world she would stumble into some horrible fae faux pas and ruin everything. Was calling her Mistress rude? It seemed like the thing to do, but they didn’t have any sort of official relationship.

< Good girl.

Warm thrills between her legs and excited butterflies in her stomach had Erin swooning. She was a good girl. Mistress Illyria said so.

But that couldn’t be all. Entire seconds dragged while Erin considered how horrible it would be if all Illyria wanted to check her obedience. She needed attention.

< There is a starbucks on College and 12th, be there at 7.

Erin’s train of thought exploded into a thousand conflicting voices, each shouting over the others and pulling her mind in a dozen panicked directions. She froze, paralysed by the sudden request order until one of the voices managed to ring out above the others.

Say something! Don’t make her wait!

> I will be there.

< Looking forward to it ;)

Erin took a moment to closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and silently thank any gods, demons, or fairy godparents that might be listening.

The clock said 5:53. It would take 10 minutes to get there, so make that 15 to be safe, that gave her less than an hour to get ready. There was no question that she was going all out for Illyria, the only problem was how to impress. What would Illyria like?

Clothes first.

Erin had spent a lot of time in sex shops over the past few days spending an irresponsible amount of money. Her bank account was devastated but she had never before had so many pretty things to wear. Property like her needed nice things to wear for her owner. It was necessary. So she had selection, but she didn’t know what direction to go in. There was no fashion standard for ‘potential slave meeting potential owner’ that she knew of.

When they had met Illyria’s own style balanced modesty and sexiness. The word that came to Erin’s mind was ‘alluring’ - showing off enough to get people interested but leaving plenty for the imagination to desire. That was probably a good place to start. Classy lingerie with a push up bra to accent her figure, a technically modest sweater that hugged all her curves very well, and a mid thigh skirt to give Illyria access if she wanted it.

God I hope she wants it.

Erin fought with herself over accessories and makeup, painfully aware that she was acting like a teenager getting ready for her first date. It was some comfort to acknowledge that this wasn’t too far from the truth. Illyria was a fae or something even stranger and Erin had no idea what a date with her would be like, if you could even call whatever this was a date. Ned hadn’t even tried to give her proper advice when she asked, the only thing she had gotten from him were a hundred reasons why it was incredibly dangerous. This was much less helpful than he seemed to think. It made sense she was nervous, she should be nervous, there was lots to be nervous about, tons really!

Wow, this is really not a helpful train of thought. Just shut up and chose a shade of lipstick, stupid brain.

After a lot of fussing in the mirror Erin finally had to admit that she was as prepared as she was ever going to be.

Erin arrived at the Starbucks a good ten minutes early, giving her plenty of time to get a coffee, find a place to sit, and work herself into a near panic imagining all the ways she might mess up. She was going through disaster scenarios that involved spilling her drink when Illyria finally walked in the door.

"Hello Copper Swallow!" Illyria said in a cheerful tone. Erin gave her a nervous smile as Illyria took a seat opposite of her.

"It's been a few days since I sent your instructions. How's it been?"

"Um, very frustrating and hot Mi… Illyria."

"You were about to call me Mistress." Illyria said. It wasn’t a question.

“Y-Yes, I know it might be a bit, um, presumptuous-ah!”

Erin jumped slightly at a caress against her leg under her table.

“I like it. You will call me Mistress.”

"Thank you Mistress." Erin said, looking down at her hands while she blushed and smiled.

“Good girl.” Illyria said.

Erin reached for her coffee, taking a sip to hide her embarrassment as she tried to regain some amount of composure. Illyria was making it awfully difficult, she was tracing her foot higher and higher up Erin’s leg. Being wound up like this was wonderful but there were questions that need answers, she couldn’t lose her head just yet.

“Can I ask you a question?” Erin managed, her voice low and quiet. “It might be really strange.”

"I'm used to strange." Illyria said.

"You're not human, are you?"

The caress against Erin’s thighs stopped for a moment while Illyria gave her a mischievous grin.

"I suppose I wasn't exactly subtle, was I?" Illyria said, starting up her teasing under the table again, breaking Erin’s concentration for a moment before she remembered to answer.

"Not really, no. But I don’t mind!" Erin added quickly. “I just needed to know.”

“Had one too many brushes with the supernatural lately?”

“I’ve had a few, but they were all great! There was you of course, and then another lady that knew about me just like you did, and a guy named Ned. I think he’s a wizard? It’s all really exciting but I’m kinda freaking out.”

“I know how you feel. Lots of exciting and overwhelming things.” Illyria said sympathetically. “I understand you were led through the streets naked on a leash? I’d ask if you enjoyed yourself but I think we both know the answer to that.”

Erin’s eyes went wide, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. She tripped over her words, trying to find something to say, only managing an embarrassing squeak.

“How are you so adorable?” Illyria said.

“She said no one would know!” Erin managed to whine.

“I’m a special case. Yoal-yohuali and I… well, for now, let's just say we are acquainted.” Illyria said.

“It’s not a problem, right?”

“That someone else used you? I don’t own you, Erin. Not yet, anyway.”

Illyria seemed to enjoy every second of awkward blushing as Erin pulled herself together from that bombshell.

“Are you reading my mind?” Erin blurted out. She knew what she wanted, she knew her name, was she reading her like a book? The idea of someone who could read all her secrets, see every dark fantasy…

No, bad brain! We are asking questions, stop being turned on for two seconds, come on.

Illyria giggled and shook her head.

“No. Good guess though.”

Erin ran a hand through her hair in exasperation.

“Then what is going on?” She said. “What are you?”

“Are you alright?” Illyria asked.

“I don’t know what is happening! The entire world has turned upside down and, and it’s so good but what if it just goes away? What if I say or do something wrong and I make it go away? I don’t think I could handle that. I don’t want to mess it up.”

When Erin met Illyria’s eyes her expression was sympathetic but reserved. Erin could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she worked through something. Erin sighed, looking down at coffee again.

“I don’t actually need to know what’s going on. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, ok? Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

"Erin, look at me." Illyria ordered.

“I am sorry, I got carried away teasing you. You are very teasable.” Illyria said with a sweet smile. “What I am is not a question with an easy answer. But what really matters is that you are not going to lose it. You wont mess it up with an innocent mistake, you don’t need to worry about it suddenly going away. And you don’t need me to get what you need. That is especially important."

Erin wiped away the tears that had started to form on the corners of her eyes, her worries evaporating as she turned Illyria’s words over in her head. It was going to be ok, everything would work out. She was sure of that even if it didn’t make sense.

“Feeling better? Did that help?” Illyria asked.

Erin nodded. This felt a lot like when Lady Yoal-yohuali made her stop being afraid, Illyria must have used a glamour. That’s good. No fear, no insecurity. What a kind thing Mistress Illyria was doing for her.

“Good. Now, if you are still interested in my attention…” Illyria pulled a long black cloth out from her purse and put it on the table. “Tie this over your eyes."

“What are you going to do to me?” Erin asked, a now familiar thrill rising up inside her.

“Whatever I feel like. Touch you, play with you. Maybe call my boyfriend, let him have his way with you.” Illyria said casually. “You know, this and that.”

Unbelievably hot. Erin was reaching for the blindfold without a second thought. She blushed furiously as she tied the blindfold and her fingers trembled as she tested the knot, but she was quite sure that she wanted what Illyria was offering. Besides, it couldn’t possibly be as humiliating as her adventure with Lady Yoal-yohuali.

“Perfect.” Illyria said as Erin carefully adjusted the cloth to make sure she was absolutely blind. A moment later Illyria’s hand take hold of her arm, gently pulling her out of her chair.

“I’ll lead, you follow.” She said, linking arms with Erin.

They moved at a leisurely pace as Erin followed the gentle guidance Illyria provided. It was an entirely different experience from being led on a leash, Erin’s blind dependence on Illyria combined with her affectionate touch was much more intimate. At first her steps were hesitant, carefully feeling out where her foot landed before shifting her weight forward. As they walked she became more and more comfortable relying on Illyria. If the ground was uneven Illyria would slow down and warn her; If something might trip her Illyria would lead her around. With Illyria leading her Erin was able to move almost on autopilot, freeing her mind to focus on other things. The softness of Illyra’s skin, the sharp click of their heels, the rustling of leaves in a cool breeze.

Trust her. She won't let you fall.

Erin could also hear voices of people watching them, whispers speculating about what the two women might be doing. Norville U was the center of perversion for a city already filled to the brim with depravity, there were all sorts of rumors and everyone had even seen a thing or two. A blindfolded walk on campus didn't even register as perverted by Norville standards. From the fragments of conversation Erin was able to pick up from the outside it looked like some sort of romantic ‘trust walk’ between girlfriends. She could hardly blame them, at some point Erin could not exactly recall she had snuggled in closer to Illyria, resting her head on her shoulder. They probably looked embarrassingly saccharine. She just hoped a friend wouldn’t spot them, it would be really annoying if people tried to interrogate her about her secret girlfriend.

"This is not really what I expected." Erin said, squeezing Illyria's arm affectionately. She felt so relaxed.

"What did you expect?"

"Something intense and wild."

"My life has been a little intense lately, I thought I'd start with something relaxing. If you are bored I can kick it up a few notches."

"No, I like this. No need to rush it." Erin said, cuddling up to Illyria. Whatever, people could gossip, she didn’t care.

“Are we headed anywhere in particular or just wandering?" Erin asked.

“There are some study rooms in the library that are always empty this time of night, they should give us some privacy."

Erin felt a small thrill in her stomach. Public enough to be risky, private enough that they could have some real fun. That was a wonderful idea. She was lost in fantasies for a few moments before she realized the implication.

“You know your way around Norville U?”

“I’ve been attending classes here for over a year. I am, objectively speaking, a good student.” Illyria said with a hint of pride.

"Why would a, uh, whatever you are go to school?"

"Think of me as a normal human with sexy super powers. If I am doing normal human things it is probably because of a normal human reason."

That raised more questions than it answered and it didn’t line up at all with what Ned had claimed, but at least it was somewhere to start. The first question that popped into Erin’s head was silly, but she had to know.

“What is your major?”

Illyria laughed.

“Accounting.”

“You’re an accountant?”

Erin was struggling to fit the mental image of an accountant on top of Illyria. The best she could manage was an older Illyria dressed as some sort of office style dominatrix.

“I don’t believe you. You are making fun of me.”

“It’s true." Illyria insisted. "But If I continue school I am going to aim for some sort of doctorate."

"Doctor sexy, M.D.?"

"I was thinking more mad scientist."

It was very difficult to tell when Illyria was being serious.

"What sort of powers do you have?"

"Oh, all sorts of things. And I am gaining more all the time."

"Can you give some examples?" Erin asked, rolling her eyes under the blindfold. Show off.

"Hmm, let's see. I can find people like you. If you had lied about following my commands I would have known. I can edge my partner perfectly with no risk of them accidentally coming. Lots of things like that."

"That's so mean!" Erin whined, heat flaring between her legs with the absolute certainty that she was going to be Illyria's next victim.

"That's the point, silly girl." Illyria said, kissing Erin on the cheek. "Careful, there are a few steps here…"

“Um, how about mind control?” Erin asked.

Illyria sighed.

“Everyone is always so worried about mind control.”

“Actually, I was, um, hoping…” Erin trailed off, embarrassed to say it outloud.

“Oh no you don't. Out with it, or do I have to make talk?” Illyria said with a playful edge to the threat.

Erin huddled closer to Illyria, hiding her face in the crook of Illyria's neck while she blushed. She wondered what Illyria might to do ‘make’ her, but now wasn’t the time to test that.

“I’m actually, um, really into the idea? Of being mind controlled, I mean.”

“Oh, fun!” Illyria said. “I don’t have much along those lines yet, but I could probably come up with something. Maybe for our next date? Actually, is this a date?”

“I was wondering the same thing. It sort of feels like a date."

“I’ve not been on a lot of dates. I’m not really sure how things like this should work for a person like me.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they both considered this.

Was this how people like her found what they were looking for? The deeper they got into conversation the more obvious it seemed that Illyria didn't know the answers either. Erin had built "Mistress Illyria" up in her head as this larger than life figure. But she was just a person, and if Erin was reading her right she was young or at least inexperienced. Making it up as she went, just like Erin.

"What about the thing you did earlier?" Erin asked, breaking the silence. "You made me stop feeling scared.”

“That isn’t mind control, not really. It’s, uh, it’s very complicated and I don’t actually understand it that well, but it's like a spell that helps people know that true things are true."

“That sounds nice, but not particularly sexy?” Erin pointed out.

"Yoal-yohuali used something similar on you. What she did to you would have been horrible if you did not know you were safe, right? It makes the kind of adventures you had possible. If you look at it that way it is very sexy."

“That makes sense, but you didn't need to use it on me. I would have done whatever you said anyway." Erin pointed out.

Illyria shrugged.

"Yeah, but you were upset." Illyria said. “We're here, I’ll get the door.”

The halls of the library were quiet in the way only a very large building nearly devoid of activity can be quiet. Without ambient noise the silence was oppressive, every tiny noise carrying through the halls. The click of their heels was the loudest sound in the building, signaling their presence in a way Erin found slightly unnerving.

They took the elevator up several floors, the dead quiet even more complete in the out of the way corner Illyria was leading them to. The lack of noise should have been comforting, they might be the only people on this floor, but it only meant that if someone else was here any noise Erin made would carry nice and clear through the silence. It made Erin nervous, she was not exactly quiet, especially if Illyria decided to get rough on her. It was some relief when Illyria opened a heavy door, lead her through it, and closed it behind them; it would provide at least some sound dampening.

“Stay.” Illyria ordered, leaving Erin where she was.

Erin waited patient and still, guessing at what Illyria might be preparing for her from the sounds she was making. The scraping of furniture across tile floor, the sound of Illyria rustling through a bag and placing several items on a table, and finally the click of heels as Illyria walked back to her, taking her arm again and guiding her forward.

“Follow me… Turn, that's right, and now sit, carefully… There you are.” Illyria said, guiding her to sit in a chair. It was fairly comfortable, ergonomically shaped with decent back support. It didn’t seem special in anyway, the typical stacking chair you would find in any university.

"Hands down at your sides, sit up straight. And don’t move.” Illyria whispered into her ear, so close that Erin could feel her breath against her skin.

To be continued

#Raven gave me permission to break my rule on this post only for the sake of clarity

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