#sorry for the abundant set up i just CANNOT shut up to save my life

[warfeind]

@kusattainu    ━━   every day at jujutsu high is some new flavor of peculiar. bumming around the outskirts of tokyo, at an arm's length from everyone else at campus gets old real fast. even yoru withdraws, coiling against her right temple from the inside like a dull pressure. a change in routine shouldn't upset her as much as it does. the suits and uniforms descend upon shinjuku with such seriousness that it nearly makes her keel over from anxiety when mr. so and so starts chanting incantations about emerging from the darkness. did no one tell you how all this is supposed to work? they'd asked, obviously incensed. i don't know but [ ... ] i'm fine she'd croaked with such resignation that her first mission ends right then and there. so much for the special grade vessel. as if she had any choice in the matter.

so, in equal degrees of embarrassment and relief, asa seeks out the spot where they'd told her to wait. at a family mart, no less. but crucially not a family mart specifically for sorcerers, like she'd asked with eyes widened in disbelief and promptly elicited a chuckle from the whole group. no, not like that. like she was supposed to know that somehow. these people are impossible, she thinks to herself, and feels yoru stirring in agreement, though still hidden from view. asa can't even blame her for sulking right now. the soft flourescent buzz drowns out most of the noise inside her own head, at least. she approaches the register warily, wondering if it's good manners to pick up something for her seniors while she's here or if her good intentions can stand up to scrutiny at all. people are impossible. every last one of them.

״   um, uhh — ״ yoru staggers her, suddenly on high alert. hairs standing on end like a cat poised to pounce. asa shakes off the sensation, like an overly animated shudder that causes her breath to catch in her throat again. ״   sorry, my teacher said to come here and wait.. ״ it's turning out to be one of those conversations that just gets progressively worse with every word. yoru would be grinning now if asa could see her. ״   from jujutsu high, i mean. they're busy on a mission and.. uh, maybe i shouldn't be saying that.. ״ asa turns her gaze up from the floor for the first time since stepped inside and her heart sinks further down her recess of her chest. no way a person like that is family mart employee. this is some kind of set up. has to be. ״  they said something about a dog in the store.. have you seen one around? ״

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

[fresh-outta-jams]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered - Part 7

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: When your soulmate tattoo shows up, an address, you figure it can’t hurt to send a letter, right? Warnings: Some swears, soulmate fluff Word Count: 2.1k

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, Epilogue

Namjoon’s letter arrived a few days after your first video call. You read it with a grin. You’d just got back from your classes. Any minute, your phone would ring with your daily call from Namjoon, as soon as he woke up, which meant you got to hear his husky morning voice and see his beautiful bare face.

The sudden buzzing sent your heart racing, and as quickly as your fingers would allow, you picked up the phone.

“You thought I would hate you for being RM?” You asked without so much as a greeting.

“Well good morning to you, too.” Namjoon chuckled. “Got my letter, huh?”

“You’re dodging the question.”

He let out a sleepy sigh that turned into a yawn. You watched the way it stretched his features, his eyes squeezing shut. God, he was so cute sometimes…

“So maybe I was a little afraid you would hate me. But can you blame me? You’re literally the coolest person on the planet, it’s no wonder you took it in stride. Anyone else...someone who had been an ARMY for a while, maybe…”

“I get it. That’s scary.” You nodded, setting him at ease. You weren’t mad at him for being afraid. You didn’t think you had it in you to be mad at him for that. “But, everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason I didn’t hear about BTS until recently. Thanks for the song recommendations, by the way, you dork.”

“Any time, darling.” He grinned. Your heart took a little leap forward. Until recently, pet names were sort of uncharted territory, they still were. So even this little one made in jest was enough to get your blood pumping. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Not much. I already finished classes, so I’ll probably just spend the rest of the night writing your letter.”

“Time zones…” Namjoon lamented. It did look a little dark outside your window…

“Time zones.” You agreed. “You’re living in the future, Joon. Your today is my tomorrow.”

“That’s deep.” He chuckled. “I sent out your Christmas present the other day. I was hoping you and I could do a video call and open them together once they both come in.”

“That’d be perfect. I sent yours out too, so it should be on the way there, but the US Postal Service is weird, so it might not get to you for a while.”

“I’m patient.”

“Good thing, too, or this whole thing wouldn’t have worked out.” You laughed, and so did he. Even though you had only been in immediate contact for a little while now, you couldn’t imagine going back to a world where you barely knew what he looked like. Now, however, you had an abundance of information about him ready at your fingertips.

“Hyunggggg,” whined a voice beside Namjoon. He continued saying something in Korean that you didn’t understand.

“It’s not my fault you stay up late playing video games.”

Oh, that must have been Namjoon’s roommate, Tae, you figured, upset that Namjoon was up so early making noise.

“Sorry about him. What were you saying?”

“It’s fine, Namjoon. Tell Tae I’m sorry for waking him up.”

“It’s okay, (Y/N)...” Tae mumbled from the next bed over, shifting and turning away from their fearless leader.

“So I’ve been watching all of your old music videos.” You grinned at the way his face paled, eyes widening. “It’s kind of fun watching little teenage Namjoon. You were what, like eighteen when you debuted?”

“Jeez, something like that, yeah. Ugh that’s so embarrassing.”

“You were still fine as hell, though.” Your face scrunched as you thought. “Well, after the mini-afro, maybe.”

Namjoon shook his head, making a noise of disbelief. “I still can’t get over the fact that you actually find me attractive.”

“Okay, but I’m not the only one, though. There are entire Facebook pages dedicated to your dimples. I joined like three of them the other day.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He laughed, showing them off. You swore, you almost swooned at the sight. “I’m really not that attractive.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re kidding me. Namjoon...I don’t know how to express this in words. You are the hottest human being I’ve ever laid my eyes on. When you’re performing, there’s just this leader energy about you and it is so sexy. And then there are those videos of you at fansigns and you are so frickin cute. I don’t even know what to do with you. You’re not allowed to be that cute and that hot simultaneously. It’s not fair.”

By the time you finished, your soulmate resembled a very flustered tomato, covering his eyes with his long fingers. “Stop…”

“Not until you realize how fine you are. I could go on and on about how much I like the way you’ve been parting your hair lately or how gorgeous you always look, even in the mornings like this when you don’t have makeup on and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it. It’s just...hard to believe things like that when it’s a literal goddess telling me.”

“Oh hush. I’m not-”

“You are. You are so, so gorgeous. All I can think about is kissing your perfect lips and running my fingers through your pink hair.” It was your turn to blush. “I seriously…” he huffed. “I really just need you in my life. I need to hold you. Like. Now. I need to hold you now. I think I’m going to die of (Y/N) deficiency at this rate.”

“Cheesy-ass dork.” You snickered, shaking your head.

Someone knocked on Namjoon’s door. When he looked up, Yoongi was coming through. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks, hyung. We’ll be out in a second.” Namjoon told the shortest rapper, who nodded and left as quickly as he’d come. Namjoon looked at you, a longing look in his eyes. “I’ve gotta go, baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good...right, it’s not morning there. Have a good night. Text me if anything interesting happens.”

“Will do. Have a good day, Joonie.”

And then you hung up, that familiar warm, yet empty feeling settling over your heart. You clicked your pen a few times, looking over the paper sitting in front of you. Recently, you’d purchased some nicer stationary with little crabs and seashells on them. You had yet to send Namjoon one of them, but you figured the purchase would encourage you to write fewer rough drafts.

You lowered the tip of the pen to the paper and the words started flowing.

***

“Dear Namjoon,

I had a very similar dream to yours. I was wrapped up in one of your sweaters. The sleeves hung past my fingers and I was baking Christmas cookies. And then you walked into the kitchen and I woke up. I’ve been trying to get back to that dream, though. It does, however, make me feel a lot better that it won’t stay a dream forever.

As you can see, I have enclosed a picture of myself from a Christmas party last year, something festive to make my Halloween picture a little less lonely. I expect a picture in return, as agreed upon.

I cannot wait to read your book. Send it whenever you’re ready for me to read it. As soon as I get off for break, I’ll have a bunch of time on my hands to work on it. Do you want edits or just feedback? I can do either. Or both. Whatever floats your boat. Ending books isn’t easy. It’s actually really hard. I think the key is to close the doors that make sense to, and leave the rest open. That way, there’s room for a sequel. It helps to read through everything again and make sure you didn’t leave any storylines hanging.

Also, after reading your letter and talking to you face to face every day since the first time, I can’t believe you were so nervous to tell me who you are. I mean, I can believe it. I get it. It’s tricky. You’re a worldwide superstar, a rising American heartthrob, if you will. I’m just a film student with no idea what she’s going to do with the rest of her life. Meanwhile, you’re filming music videos the likes of which I couldn’t even dream of creating. Spring Day’s MV seriously made me cry. The cinematography in it is so beautiful. The lighting, the colors, the song, your face...it seriously blew me away. Not to mention all of your other MVs.

I also watched some of JK’s Golden Closet Films, and I’d just like to ask: HOW? How does this boi...this BOI with no formal film education churn out something as beautiful as he always seems to? The editing, the skill, I just...wow. If you could ask him for some tips for me, I would be super grateful.

Talk to you soon,

-(Y/N)”

***

“Dear (Y/N),

I don’t think you were baking Christmas cookies in my dream. I don’t really remember all of the details. I’ve been trying to get back to it for the past few weeks, but I can’t seem to, unfortunately. I’ll keep you posted, though.

You should have warned me that you were going to send me the cutest picture on the whole planet. I love your Rudolph sweater. Does the nose light up? Also, is that your natural hair color??? You said you’d never had any crazy colors before pink, but I guess that doesn’t really apply to colors that could be deemed ‘natural’.

I have also attached a picture of myself. It was really hard to find one of me that isn’t already online, so I asked the other members for help and they managed to dig up that one that they had been saving to use for my birthday this year, but forgot. Consider it a sneak peek.

As far as my book-to-be goes, I would love edits and feedback. Really, whatever you think needs to be fixed, I will do it without a second question. After so many NaNoWriMos, you have to be a pro, right? I’ll email it to you. Mine is namjoon94@naver.com.

I think you forget that I’ve seen one of your film projects. I have. And it made my cry uncontrollably. It was beautiful and heart-wrenching and every other emotion I can think of. Though, to be fair, I didn’t have much to do with the production of the video. That would be our director, who has tons of experience in the field. All you need is time and then you’ll be cranking out masterpiece after masterpiece. That Oscar is right around the corner, baby, just you wait.

I asked Jungkook for some tips for you, and he said the key is to just keep playing with things until you like how they look. Play with the colors, the music, the speed, the cropping, whatever you want. Granted, he basically grew up in this industry, so it’s no wonder he’s so good at it.

I can’t believe Christmas is coming up so soon. Your last letter put me in a cookie mood, so if I put on weight because of it, I’m blaming you. Jin’s been trying out some recipes at my suggestion, and they’re all really good. His only request was that I stay the hell away from the kitchen. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m clumsy as fuck and I break and/or burn everything I touch. You have that to look forward to. Sorry jagiya.

Hope to hear from you soon,

-Namjoon”

***

Snow drifted down, covering your little city in white fluff, truly transforming it into a winter wonderland. Namjoon’s latest letter was between your fingers as you read it by the fireplace, a mug of cocoa sitting on the table beside you. At long, long last, you were home for Christmas. He’d told you in your phone call about a week ago that his tattoo had changed, and you’d had a mini heart attack before he read off the new one, only for you to discover it was your home address, where your parents lived.

So, you sat there, as cozy as you had been in a long, long time, wrapped in the softest sweater you owned, a warm blanket draped over your legs. Every once in a while, you would look up and imagine what it would be like to see Namjoon’s tall figure leaning against the doorframe to the den, mistletoe hanging over his head. Everything would be better if he was there, you decided. And yet, because of the miles and miles and miles stretched between you, you’d have to remain separate for at least a little while longer.

Your thoughts were only pulled from your warm thoughts of Namjoon when there was a knock at the door. When you opened it, it was all of your friends standing outside in the snow, wearing the ugliest Christmas sweaters they could find. You let them in with warm hugs and well-wishes.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

You smiled. “Merry Christmas...”

Tagged: @ffantasylandd, @jooniefluff, @chimchimsauce, @mrs-saeyoung-choi, @theprinceoftheundead, @angyexoxo, @copenhagenspirit, @lovelylittlekittn, @lilgaga98, @iminlovewjjk, @feed-my-geek-soul, @loveandwitch, @recoveringflowerchild, @demonic-meatball, @maddieisaacs, @scissorsandtonfas, @carirosesg, @backtonormalthings, @local-mochi, @faliwi, @spoopyela, @nanie5, @ingenu--e, @undiscovered1personality, @andalos, @calspixie, @filtermono, @fryedshiken, @mikey-girl12, @lilliaflurr, @hypophrenium, @sitkafay, @spiicyari, @andeerwilson

[fanfic-collection]

The Zoo: Loki x Reader - Pt 2

Yea this is just weird. I don’t even know what I’m writing and I don’t know if I want to include smut or not, please leave comments or any suggestions you have!

You felt consciousness return and you opened your eyes, the world slowly swimming back into focus. Once again you found yourself in the strange room.

Now familiar with how this worked, you lay still, waiting for your senses to fully recover.

To your surprise though, you felt the bed shifting, a groaning coming from beside you.

Your neck snapped over and you looked to the side, trying to make out the blurry figure of another humanoid creature. You squinted.

A man?

“Blast...” The man muttered softly, cursing under his breath and rubbing at his temples. He was sitting upright.

Even through the blurriness of your vision, you could tell his torso was bare. Your eyes drifted downward, a drop of relief at seeing his lower regions were covered.

Slowly the man turned around, eyes widening as he seemed to register you. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes, “The missing guard.” He whispered.

You sat up, vision almost fully cleared, the edges just a little fuzzy. Your mouth fell open as you finally registered the long black hair, the piercing green eyes... “Prince Loki.” You breathed, face flushing.

Loki blinked at the reverence in your voice. His eyes flickered down to your gown and a blush of crossed his own face. Looking pointedly away, Loki coughed and cleared his throat. “You're the missing guard, where are we?”

“I... I don't know.”

“We recovered the rest of your crew, what was left of them. I don't know why I went personally, but it seemed right.” Loki rubbed his forehead, eyes scrunched shut.

You crossed your arms over your chest, keenly aware of the see-through gown. Slowly you licked your lips nervously, looking away.

Loki seemed to be racking his brain, “An ambush... Thor told me not to go, unlike me to take unneeded risks...” He trailed off, clearly lost in thought.

You glanced back at him. For the first time you noticed a large purple scar, jagged and long healed on his chest. You recalled the events of the dark elves years prior and rumors of a heroic sacrifice to save the king.

Loki stood up abruptly, swaying for a moment as he looked around the room. His head turned to and fro, looking this way and that. For your part, you stayed on the bed, watching him, fearful of the pain in your neck. You could see signs of similar inflammation on his neck and feared the worst.

Suddenly the screen flickered to life. Loki spun around and faced it, glaring menacingly and fists clenched. Slowly his body relaxed in one fluid motion and he was staring at the tentacle creatures with an air of relaxed indifference.

From your position on the bed, you could see the tenseness in his shoulders, and the way his jaw was set with a fierce determination.

“You are awake!” The first creature cried.

Loki stared at them unimpressed, eyes glazed and uninterested.

The tentacles began flailing, you recognized the upset from before. “Does it not understand?” The second asked.

“Asgardian, speak.” The first addressed Loki once more.

You scrambled to your feet, pushing past Loki. “We understand.”

Loki's eyes darkened as he glared down at you.

“Please don't hurt us!” You added, reaching gingerly for your neck.

The tentacles changed their flailing, or more rhythmic pattern to the undulations. “Good, good.”

The second one seemed angry. “You chose a bad child-bearer!”

The first one ignored him, two of its tentacles held vertically and wiggling, you imagined it was pleased. “We have our pair!”

“Many died for the prince.” The second one responded, the anger growing.

“It means nothing, he was the desired mate. Your soldiers have done well.” The first.

Loki's eyes glanced down at you, “Mate?” He mouthed in silent confusion.

You felt the heat rising on your face, silently wishing to be anywhere but here. Crossing your arms tighter around your chest, you shifted on your legs.

Loki's mind was racing, he looked away from you and back to the tentacle creatures. “Felkians.” He growled.

Both tentacle creatures went rigidly stiff, falling silent. After a moment, the second said, “It recognizes us.”

“I've read about your species. Highly advanced, surprising given your forms.” Loki sneered, “Why bother in the affairs of Asgard now?”

The first began vibrating, multiple tentacles waving around itself, writhing into the second. “We have a pair! It has been many centuries that we sought a breeding pair for our collection. What you would call a zoo.”

Loki's eyebrow rose.

The first continued, “Asgard's population is low, we must save the species!”

“Asgard's population is fine, we are prosperous people, you don't have to interfere with our lives. Let us go and we will forget the act of war on our people. Keep us imprisoned, and you will make a great enemy.”

A screeching noise came from the second one, “Your technology is severely outdated. And your numbers are limited, you could not handle all out war with the Felkians.”

“You would be surprised.” Loki replied coolly.

“False!” The first cried, “By our calculations, a large warehouse ship is enough to transport the majority of the populace! Asgardians are too few, we must ensure your survival!”

Loki crossed his arms, “No.” He said coolly.

“He resists!” The second seemed happy about this.

Loki cried out in pain, nostrils flaring and hissing as he grasped at his neck. To your surprise, he stayed standing. “What the hel?” He snarled, trying to glance down at his neck.

“You are strong, a worthy specimen of leadership. The female has chosen a sturdy mate.” The first creature said.

Loki glanced over at you before looking back to the screen.

“Raise the intensity.” The first ordered.

“Too hide could kill him, perhaps we should intervene personally?” The second replied.

Unable to stand seeing Loki in pain, the man you had fawned over from afar, you pushed past him, “Please stop hurting him. Please, just explain what you want.”

“Was it not clear?” The first asked.

“They are a lesser species.” The second interjected.

“The prince must place offspring in the female.” The first ordered.

The pain must have stopped for Loki had moved his hand from his neck and was looking between the two tentacle creatures and then over at you. “Excuse me?”

“How is this not clear?” The second asked, “perhaps it is mocking us.”

Loki shook his head, “No, I'm just...” He trailed off. Looking down at you, he looked back up at the tentacle creatures. “You chose me, because of her?”

Mortified, you covered your face and turned away, groaning softly.

“The ideal mate must match the female. A suitable male will increase odds of impregnation, a pleased female will encourage abundance of offspring.” The first explained, clearly unsure of Loki's confusion. “The female does not look pleased, have we chose wrong?” The tentacles writhed, “Did your retkhar choose wrong?”

“This was the male envisioned!” The second yelled back. “It was not a failure on our part.”

Loki's hand reached out gently and touched your shoulder, his hand was cool to the touch through the sheer fabric. “Err,” He cleared his throat, “guard?”

You looked up at him, tears running down your face. “I'm so sorry my prince.” You sobbed softly, wishing the tentacle creatures would look away.

“They kidnapped me, because you're attracted to... me?” Loki asked.

You covered your face, tears falling harder, shoulders shaking.

Gently, Loki pulled you to his chest, holding you carefully. “It's alright, don't worry.” He lowered his voice, “I'll get us out of this, a prince protects his subject.”

“I dragged you into this, I didn't mean to.” You moaned into his skin, unable to ignore how pleasant he smelled and how smooth his skin over his wiry muscles felt.

“It's alright.” Loki whispered, stroking your back.

There was a strange noise coming from the two tentacle monsters, they seemed to be conversing in their native language.

“Distress is good!” The second interrupted.

You could feel Loki glance over at the screen.

“Look how they bond!” The second continued.

“False! Distress is bad for offspring, offspring cannot survive a distressed host.” The first cried.

“Look how it comforts the female! Their touch is reminiscent of a bond, this will lead to more.” The second insisted.

“Female. Does the male's touch please you?” The first asked.

Loki rolled his eyes and you felt fresh tears rushing down your face.

“I am aware of that gesture.” The second interrupted, “The male is not pleased with us, a displeased male will not impregnate the female.”

“You're the ones upsetting her!” Loki snapped.

“He defends her, this is good.” The first wiggled several of its tentacles.

“A bond is being formed. When will there be offspring?” The second asked the first.

You had the distinct feeling that the first was the more scientific of the two.

“The male must insert his gorga into the female's-” The first began.

Loki pinched the skin between his brows, “I'm aware how this process works.” He grumbled, “You don't have to explain it.”

The second seemed annoyed at the interruption, waving a tentacle. “It interrupts!”

“It has knowledge, all is not lost for the progression of the species.” The first waved more tentacles.

“Asgardians know how to create offspring, we just choose to do so at a slower rate, there's more to it than just being forced into a situation.” Loki explained slowly.

“They must bond!” The second cried.

“Yes, we call it courting, and there's a long process to it.” Loki continued.

“We are aware of this! Other species must offer precious gifts. Humans exchange valued rocks often before the procreation of their kind.” The first was quite still at this point, “The bonding ritual must begin. We will encourage bonding, then you will procreate.” It wiggled happily, “These species are far easier to breed than the glupar.”

“The glupar must be tricked, they lie about their offspring to stop the torture.” The second said.

“Torture?” Loki asked.

You felt yourself trembling, still held against his chest.

“If you do not willingly bond, we will force you, we have ways.” The screen flickered out.

Loki slowly pulled away from you, resting his hands on both your shoulders and lowering his head to be at your height. “It's alright.” He whispered soothingly.

“It's not!” You sniffed, “My foolish and idle infatuation has led to the crown prince of Asgard being kidnapped by those, those things.”

“I've had worse things happen to me.” Loki muttered, he looked away from you, around the room, “Including kidnapping.” He glanced back at you and offered a small smile.

“I'm a lowly guard, not even an Einharjar, and I've gotten one of the most important people in our land taken captive.”

Loki ran his hand through his sleek black hair, eyes still flickering around the room. “It's alright, you're a guard, pull yourself together and focus, alright?”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, his scent flooding your senses, a heady aroma clouding your mind. Shaking your head, you shook out your arms and hands, trying to focus yourself. “Alright.” You whispered.

“I won't do anything to hurt you, we need to focus on finding a way out of this situation. Asgard was alerted to the attack on your ship, we didn't realize we were dealing with Ferkians, damn.” He trailed off, “It would be much easier if it were any other civilization. They weren't lying when they said they were advanced but Asgard is a warrior people, the Ferkians can throw numbers at us but we have strength and resilience and no shortage of spirit.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, “Right.”

“For now...” Loki trailed off, “I suppose we should see what these bonding rituals they have in mind are.” His hand came up to touch his neck and he paused, “You have one of these as well?”

“There's a mirror in the bathroom, you can see the lump but it's small and...” You trailed off.

Loki nodded, glancing towards the bathroom door. “And the curtain?”

“They shocked me the last time I tried to pass through it, I don't know what's on the other side.”

“I'm used to pain, especially of this sort.” Loki chuckled dryly. “I suppose we might as well see what's on the other side.”

[dfroza]

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for monday, july 27 of 2020 with Proverbs 27 and Psalm 27 accompanied by Psalm 38 for the 38th day of Summer and Psalm 59 for day 209 of the year

[Proverbs 27]

Never brag about the plans you have for tomorrow,

for you don’t have a clue what tomorrow may bring to you.

Let someone else honor you for your accomplishments,

for self-praise is never appropriate.

It’s easier to carry a heavy boulder and a ton of sand

than to be provoked by a fool and have to carry that burden!

The rage and anger of others can be overwhelming,

but it’s nothing compared to jealousy’s fire.

It’s better to be corrected openly

if it stems from hidden love.

You can trust a friend who wounds you with his honesty,

but your enemy’s pretended flattery comes from insincerity.

When your soul is full, you turn down even the sweetest honey.

But when your soul is starving,

every bitter thing becomes sweet.

Like a bird that has fallen from its nest

is the one who is dislodged from his home.

Sweet friendships refresh the soul and awaken our hearts with joy,

for good friends are like the anointing oil

that yields the fragrant incense of God’s presence.

So never give up on a friend or abandon a friend of your father—

for in the day of your brokenness

you won’t have to run to a relative for help.

A friend nearby is better than a relative far away.

My son, when you walk in wisdom,

my heart is filled with gladness,

for the way you live is proof

that I’ve not taught you in vain.

A wise, shrewd person discerns the danger ahead

and prepares himself,

but the naïve simpleton never looks ahead

and suffers the consequences.

Cosign for one you barely know and you will pay a great price!

Anyone stupid enough to guarantee the loan of another

deserves to have his property seized in payment.

Do you think you’re blessing your neighbors

when you sing at the top of your lungs early in the morning?

Don’t be fooled—

they’ll curse you for doing it!

An endless drip, drip, drip, from a leaky faucet

and the words of a cranky, nagging wife have the same effect.

Can you stop the north wind from blowing

or grasp a handful of oil?

That’s easier than to stop her from complaining.

It takes a grinding wheel to sharpen a blade,

and so one person sharpens the character of another.

Tend an orchard and you’ll have fruit to eat.

Serve the Master’s interests

and you’ll receive honor that’s sweet.

Just as no two faces are exactly alike,

so every heart is different.

Death and destruction are never filled,

and the desires of men’s hearts are insatiable.

Fire is the way to test the purity of silver and gold,

but the character of a man is tested

by giving him a measure of fame.

You can beat a fool half to death

and still never beat the foolishness out of him.

A shepherd should pay close attention to the faces of his flock

and hold close to his heart the condition of those he cares for.

A man’s strength, power, and riches will one day fade away;

not even nations endure forever.

Take care of your responsibilities

and be diligent in your business

and you will have more than enough—

an abundance of food, clothing, and plenty for your household.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 27 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 27]

A song of David.

The Eternal is my light amidst my darkness

and my rescue in times of trouble.

So whom shall I fear?

He surrounds me with a fortress of protection.

So nothing should cause me alarm.

When my enemies advanced

to devour me alive,

They tripped and fell flat on their faces into the soil.

When the armies of the enemy surround me,

I will not be afraid.

When death calls for me in the midst of war,

my soul is confident and unmoved.

I am pleading with the Eternal for this one thing,

my soul’s desire:

To live with Him all of my days—

in the shadow of His temple,

To behold His beauty and ponder His ways

in the company of His people.

His house is my shelter and secret retreat.

It is there I find peace in the midst of storm and turmoil.

Safety sits with me in the hiding place of God.

He will set me on a rock, high above the fray.

God lifts me high above those with thoughts

of death and deceit that call for my life.

I will enter His presence, offering sacrifices and praise.

In His house, I am overcome with joy

As I sing, yes, and play music for the Eternal alone.

I cannot shout any louder. Eternal One—hear my cry

and respond with Your grace.

The prodding of my heart leads me to chase after You.

I am seeking You, Eternal One—don’t retreat from me.

You have always answered my call.

Don’t hide from me now.

Don’t give up on me in anger at Your servant.

You have always been there for me.

Don’t throw me to the side and forget me,

my God and only salvation.

My father and mother have deserted me,

yet the Eternal will take me in.

O Eternal, show me Your way,

shine Your light brightly on this path, and make it level for me,

for my enemies are lurking in the recesses and ravines along the way.

They are watching—hoping to seize me.

Do not release me to their desires or surrender me to their will!

Liars are standing against me,

breathing out cruel lies hoping that I will die.

I will move past my enemies with this one, sure hope:

that with my own eyes, I will see the goodness of the Eternal

in the land of the living.

Please answer me: Don’t give up.

Wait for the Eternal in expectation, and be strong.

Again, wait for the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 27 (The Voice)

with these lines of the 27th Psalm mirrored in The Message:

I’m asking God for one thing,

only one thing:

To live with him in his house

my whole life long.

I’ll contemplate his beauty;

I’ll study at his feet.

That’s the only quiet, secure place

in a noisy world,

The perfect getaway,

far from the buzz of traffic.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 27:4-5 (The Message)

[Psalm 38]

A David Psalm

Take a deep breath, God; calm down—

don’t be so hasty with your punishing rod.

Your sharp-pointed arrows of rebuke draw blood;

my backside smarts from your caning.

I’ve lost twenty pounds in two months

because of your accusation.

My bones are brittle as dry sticks

because of my sin.

I’m swamped by my bad behavior,

collapsed under gunnysacks of guilt.

The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggots

because I’ve lived so badly.

And now I’m flat on my face

feeling sorry for myself morning to night.

All my insides are on fire,

my body is a wreck.

I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it—

my life is a vomit of groans.

Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight,

my groans an old story to you.

My heart’s about to break;

I’m a burned-out case.

Cataracts blind me to God and good;

old friends avoid me like the plague.

My cousins never visit,

my neighbors stab me in the back.

My competitors blacken my name,

devoutly they pray for my ruin.

But I’m deaf and mute to it all,

ears shut, mouth shut.

I don’t hear a word they say,

don’t speak a word in response.

What I do, God, is wait for you,

wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer!

I wait and pray so they won’t laugh me off,

won’t smugly strut off when I stumble.

I’m on the edge of losing it—

the pain in my gut keeps burning.

I’m ready to tell my story of failure,

I’m no longer smug in my sin.

My enemies are alive and in action,

a lynch mob after my neck.

I give out good and get back evil

from God-haters who can’t stand a God-lover.

Don’t dump me, God;

my God, don’t stand me up.

Hurry and help me;

I want some wide-open space in my life!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 38 (The Message)

[Psalm 59]

A David Psalm, When Saul Set a Watch on David’s House in Order to Kill Him

My God! Rescue me from my enemies,

defend me from these mutineers.

Rescue me from their dirty tricks,

save me from their hit men.

Desperadoes have ganged up on me,

they’re hiding in ambush for me.

I did nothing to deserve this, God,

crossed no one, wronged no one.

All the same, they’re after me,

determined to get me.

Wake up and see for yourself! You’re God,

God-of-Angel-Armies, Israel’s God!

Get on the job and take care of these pagans,

don’t be soft on these hard cases.

They return when the sun goes down,

They howl like coyotes, ringing the city.

Then suddenly they’re all at the gate,

Snarling invective, drawn daggers in their teeth.

They think they’ll never get caught.

But you, God, break out laughing;

you treat the godless nations like jokes.

Strong God, I’m watching you do it,

I can always count on you.

God in dependable love shows up on time,

shows me my enemies in ruin.

Don’t make quick work of them, God,

lest my people forget.

Bring them down in slow motion,

take them apart piece by piece.

Let all their mean-mouthed arrogance

catch up with them,

Catch them out and bring them down

—every muttered curse

—every barefaced lie.

Finish them off in fine style!

Finish them off for good!

Then all the world will see

that God rules well in Jacob,

everywhere that God’s in charge.

They return when the sun goes down,

They howl like coyotes, ringing the city.

They scavenge for bones,

And bite the hand that feeds them.

And me? I’m singing your prowess,

shouting at cockcrow your largesse,

For you’ve been a safe place for me,

a good place to hide.

Strong God, I’m watching you do it,

I can always count on you—

God, my dependable love.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 59 (The Message)

[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: The Faux at the Garage

In which we photograph at a new venue, almost get attacked by an ibis, and visit JB HI-FI.

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and I’m running out of intros. If I don’t come up with any witty or interesting ones I’m going to use minimalism quotes instead, and if you’re my friend you’ve probably heard enough of those. Anywho… I recently received the wonderful opportunity to shoot The Faux’s headliner at the Garage, and holy shit… t’was incredible. The Faux are arguably my favourite local band (alongside fifty or so others… I’m sorry, I’m indecisive and local artists are amazing), so being able to photograph their show was marvellous. December 16th came quicker than I anticipated, and I was far too enthusiastic – but that’s a good thing, right? But let’s take it back a step, back to the 13th. T’was my final day of school – for the year – and I couldn’t wait to leave. Technically speaking, the 14th was the final day… but nobody goes to that, right? So I came home, had a one-person party featuring the All-American Rejects on fancy blue vinyl, and messed around with my Olympus compact camera. The gadget was recently repaired by the lovely lads at JB HI-FI (we all saw this coming), however t’wasn’t the same. Apparently they’d repaired it but it was replaced but no it was only a battery issue but then agai--- essentially, nobody knew what the hell actually happened. Not JB’s fault, rather that of their repairers. I had the option of returning it back. I wanted to, since a renewed item with an unsure background concerned me, so I decided to take it back on Friday. Come Friday, I found myself in JB in the midst of the Christmas shopping season. The meagre idea of it gave me a migraine; did you know that approximately one in seven Americans would avoid gift exchanges if only they addressed the subject with their family and friends? The Australian statistic would likely be relatively similar. That’s a lot of wasted money and resources. Hey look, I’m turning this into a minimalism rant! Yay! Moving right along… After returning the item successfully, the manager asked me: Manager: Would you be interested in another camera? Me: Why, yes… You see, I’ve been considering purchasing a Nikon D750 for a while now… Manager: Let’s go have a look. Me to myself: YAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY Me: Okay. Manager: So do you know how much it’ll cost you? Me: Oh, only an arm and a leg… Long story short, they’re willing to do a crazy discount and I feel spoilt. I’m picking it up this week and I cannot contain my excitement. JB HI-FI promo over. Back to Saturday: I’d never visited let alone shot at the Garage before, so I had no clue about what to expect. I knew the lighting setup wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t know the extent of its… horribleness. Not taking shady public transport was weird. I was far too used to trains that ran along the Joondalup line and hopes of “that one random pissed dude” not sitting next to me, all whilst wishing that someone cleaned up the puke that ran along the vehicle’s carpeted interior. So driving to a venue crept me out, and I’m sure it crept everyone else out, too; considering how my mother slowly pulled up, deliriously staring out the window and heavily judging everything in sight. Y’know what else was weird and creepy? The ibises. Do you know how many ibises flew overhead at that place? Too many. “But you’re overreacting, Sky, they’re just flying past. Honestly, your phobia is so irrational.” Just shut up, you fearless bastards… the bin chickens are out to get me. I feel as though there’s been too much complaining already… but then again, every TFTP is essentially a collection of rants. Can we just take a moment to consider the atmosphere of that venue? It’s so cool. If I were writing some random posh novel and had it as a setting, it’d probably be described like this: "The exterior mirrored its neighbours, a sickening shade of pale grey… or something of that nature; one failed to recount such nugatory information after being enthralled by the venue’s interior. Despite, its inhabitants participated in an abundance of ravishment and instilled nostalgia. And the aforementioned interior… oh, the intrigue: kindred furnishings lay upon the adamantine floors, accompanied by beguile characters pursuing carmine relations… and receiving little more than they desired. Candescent ornaments lined each wall surrounding the mezzanine, blinding and heating those standing below, and omitting photographers’ chances of exquisite shots… though that’d also fall blame on their expertise. Luminous bodies inside, celestial ones glittering beyond… what more could one desire?" …I realise how little sense that made… it only makes sense in my mind, and sometimes not even there. It’s probably worth noting I spent three hours writing another two pages worth of that random crap and spared you the time of reading it. So I suppose you’re welcome. (Side note: that is not how I usually write fiction, so please don't be deterred from reading my novels when they're released!!! Shameless self-promotion.) Serious question though, what style of writing do you guys prefer: blog or novel style? Not that one would be incorporated into the other, but I’m just curious. Time to get to the point… First up was Ashleigh Carr-White, an enthusiastic young singer and instrumentalist. Supported by her vast and talented band, she provided a smooth start to the night, and did incredibly well for a debut performance. Her skills are impeccable, though she seemed under-appreciated by the audience… that wasn’t her fault whatsoever; it was probably still early and everyone was still getting into the spirit. She’s also super humble and easy-going, so all the more reason to check her out! Intermission. Panic! at the Disco, The Killers, more of my faves played through the speakers. Failing not to dance around in my seat. Sheepish grinning whilst mouthing “CAUSE I’M MR. BRIGHTSIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”. Up next was Those Who Dream. Now listen… Those Who Dream… Those Who freaken Dream… Smurf dudes… I owe a lot to those lads. They gave me my first ever photo pass back in April, and have always been super sweet and helpful in terms of scoring gigs. Not to mention that their sets are the most energetic and fun things to shoot. They truly give it their all onstage. You’ve got those bands that just stand there, that don’t jump off the stage and run through the entire venue, that don’t swap instruments and don’t invite members of The Faim to party with them. But Those Who Dream does. They go at it until they’re falling to the floor, and then give it some more. They go all out, no regrets, no drawbacks, both musically and in terms of their performance. Josh is the upbeat cyan dude who honestly cannot stay still, and Cooper is the innocent-smiling, hard-hitting drummer who keeps the duo going. Without one, ya can’t have the other. And they are the best Twenty Øne Piløts cover band – and an incredible original band – in Perth. Intermission. The Encounters. Sound familiar? Oh, they’re only those super cool dudes who play great music and have too many technical difficulties because technology hates us. Seriously though, these guys continue the evening’s trend of humbleness whilst providing some killer tunes. The band did a marvellous job with their short set – they were unfortunately cut short due to the excessive time spent dealing with technical issues, thus why I hate technology – and definitely left everyone begging for more. T’was during their set that I had the most trouble with lighting, particularly since I was shooting a lot from the right of the stage, where the lights were shining directly yet nowhere. It was really shitty lighting, man. Really shitty. That’s why I only managed to revive thirteen photos via Lightroom. That app’s tagline should be: “Lightroom: saving sanities and photography careers est. [whenever t’was released]”. (Sponsor me, Adobe.) Nevertheless, the guys did a fabulous job with the time – or lack thereof – that they had. Intermission. T’was time for the headliners, our folks in The Faux. From the first note, the crowd was chanting alongside Alex, swaying along to the aesthetic instrumentals, and having one hell of a good time. There were lyrics that were certainly crowd favourites, including the band’s trademark, “I can’t dance with you, but I can write you a love song.” Each and every audience member was part of a special collective, a group of fun-loving teens and young adults celebrating the year’s end and the band’s 2017 achievements. The band performed fantastically, quite the opposite of the lighting’s performance. Their style is so simplistic and elegant that it’s rather fascinating. Don’t get me wrong; they give it their all, they’re sweaty messes by the hour’s end, but they maintain a minimalistic stage quality that’s somewhat indescribable and is evidently making little sense. In short, they’re one hell of an incredible band. …And that was that. Up next: I don’t fucken know, I’m not even following the upload schedule.

MUSICAL SUMMARY: Ashleigh Carr-White: chill and groovy/5 Those Who Dream: Smurfs on acid + hi Stevie pls get me into the sws show ill do anything/5 The Encounters: tHEY DESERVED BETTER (butitsnobodysfaultokay)/5 The Faux: aesthetic eargasms/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY: Lenses: Better than our government (and their citizenships are clear)/5 Camera: last time shooting with the D3400/5 Lighting: Kill me with a butter knife/5 Editing: life saving/5 My sanity: nope never heard of it/5 Check out all the amazing artists via the following links: Ashleigh Carr-White Those Who Dream The Encounters The Faux

Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate