#threesomes (and some foursomes) are more my speed i suppose

[impeccablebackside]

You think the Queens ever have one big orgy?

I appreciate the lovely visual anon. Lots of goodness in that.

However, I think orgies in general are not at all common, or more simply, rather unlikely. To classify, I would take an orgy to be four of more people involved, and I cannot really see that happening so organically. Something akin to 'the orgy' shown on stage would be a once-in-a-Jellicle-moon type thing, and even then it would be a majority of paired partners amongst a physical sea of cats. There is a special force that causes it. Either way, in terms of all or most of the queens in one big fuckfest, it would be a no anon. Too many age and attitude differences between them and honestly it would not be very enjoyable for those involved. Could it foster some queens who would not normally go for another to make a move in the heat of the moment? Possibly, and that would be the best part in my mind. Though, such connections could happen outside of one.

Anyway, I do see threesomes (which could be deemed an orgy on a small scale - in a way) being more commonplace than something larger. With this though, I do not think many threesomes come out of any of the existing couples mentioned on this blog, and even less could manifest from the odd multi-cat meeting. It would arguably be best to mull over pairings that actually could / would reasonably happen, as that makes it far more compelling (hot) for me. Pairing up others who likely would not end up in a threesome / orgy naturally just ruins the fun and ruins the chemistry. There is something special to me about two people having intimacy without other distractions, so a third (or fourth or fifth and so on) has to be very much appropriate for the situation. We all know the best part of any fucking is the love, lust, but also the connection.

In my opinion the most likely 'regular' orgy outside of any spiritual influence would not be strictly queens. I think the chemistry would work better when their partners are involved. Not only does it add some numbers, but more variety for all involved if needed. That being said, that does unfortunately hinder how great a full-out pussyfest would be. To me (as a typical male), it would be an utterly beautiful spectacle of the most heavenly beings sharing their bodies in a 'pure' way. One of those things too where it can be surmised that the best person to make you squirm would be someone who shares the same parts and knows just how good it feels. It is a wonderful symphony of fingering and cunnilingus. If you have followed along with this blog anon, you are well aware how much I love those two acts dearly.

When removing any tom from consideration, I can see it being (in relative terms) a far more likely occurrence to have specific queens converge together as a group. Even then it is a harder thing to orchestrate in all fairness. That is not to say it could or would not happen however. An all-queen clam jam (but in a good way) would be built from queens who already share an existing sexual history and possibly a straggler who gets roped in (maybe even quite literally anon) to join.

I am thinking it would be a group consisting of Vic, Rumple, and Tanto that could happen if they all find a way to meet without it being too forced. In that instance, it is possible that Vic or Rumple individually or mutually invite Tanto in the fold, or something akin to that. Hard to say if they already have been with Tanto separately beforehand, or if they want her added in as a way to initiate that sort of relationship. Regardless, they would all have a very good time with one another. Both Vic and Tanto are far more shyer, and have closely held crushes for the other queen. A threesome would be a relatively good opportunity to explore that without as much pressure. Add in the boundless energy and burgeoning lust that beams out of Rumple, and no one would be left behind or without their fill(s) of pleasure.

An all-queen orgy between the likes of Cass, Bomba, and Deme is a thought, but I am pensive about them all getting along well enough for it to be feasible. Not in the way that they dislike one another by any means, more that they do not have enough of a personal relationship for a threesome to be a realistic enough option. This would be a situation where adding their partners to the mix may make it easier for all involved to let loose.

I have theorized before that Jenny is into orgies, but the only queen who would realistically be part of that would be Jelly. Possibly adding in someone like Bomba if they were are all closer in age (which is not something headcanon whatsoever, but if Jenny and Jelly were younger I do think there is potential). Otherwise, it would be another instance where toms would make the experience more fruitful.

[screensirenfic]

Black Leather - Chapter 14

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Yeah; words couldn’t hurt you, but they could grate your nerves raw till the point I was damn ready to crack skulls myself.

The rumour mill was a ravenous, vicious machine, and it had already been well intent on chewing me up and spitting me out long before Billy’s little stunt at the party.

Now it was churning up new stories with a renewed vigour.

One minute; I was having a threesome with Billy and Steve, then it was Billy and Tommy, and then it was a foursome.

So far this morning I’d been Impregnated, paid and pornographied in at least twelve different ways according to the wild and unscrupulous orgy that was apparently my sex life.

It was really wearing quite thin, and considering how desperate half the school was for attention, supposed witnesses to my promiscuity were ten a penny.

Surprisingly, against all this backdrop of debauchery and sin, Billy had come away pretty much unscathed.

Funny that; how a man could be celebrated for his apparent conquests, when I could only be seen as a loose slut who was probably infectious.

Speaking of Billy Hargrove; I hadn’t even seen the so called triumphant Lothario all day, though if I had; I’d be sure to make sure the only impregnating he’d be doing was fictional.

Lucky for him; the school day was over, and I was minutes away from attempting to break the land speed record on the back of my Triumph; my motivation, the endless ribbing of teenage dipshits.

I strode across the parking lot of Hawkins High; whispers finally ceasing to follow me as the brain dead school populous finally realised I was one muttered jab away from first degree murder.

Eyes still followed me, but they’d shy away as soon as I’d look at them; self preservation a killer when it got held up against a lust for popularity.

My eyes saw him before I heard him.

Pretty in a white shirt and double denim, Billy Hargrove worked fast; the flaming red head of Ally clear next to him as he finished his cigarette leant against his Camaro.

I saw red, and it took every ounce of my self control not to march over there and deck the prick,  because there was no way he got to cause me all that grief, then move on like I was another filly to break in.  

Instead I marched towards my Triumph, making pace double time, because I knew if my pace faltered, so would my restraint.

“Hey Lola...” His voice called out, and I could hear the heavy fall of his motorcycle boots as he hurried to catch up to me.

I just sped up, because no; we weren’t going to do this now, not if he wanted to keep all of his teeth.

“Fuck off Billy.” I spat; three words hissed through my teeth like the foulest of venom, making it loud and clear that this was not a warning.

“C’mon Lo...” He had the cheek to purr, pulling on my sleeve like we were some bickering couple, and I swear to God; I should’ve floored him right there; restraint be damned.

“I said; fuck off!” I yelled, spinning to face him with fury in my eyes and poison in my lungs.

I didn’t care that he was a whole foot taller than me; I didn’t care that he could probably bench press me in his sleep, if Billy fucking Hargrove wanted me to throttle him in the car park for the whole school to see, I’d be more than happy to oblige.

He looked at me; his eyes intense, studying me as they flicked across my face.

I ran a hand across my cheek, wiping away the start of a tear, because goddamnit; I wasn’t about to cry in front of him again.  

I was angry, and hurt, and that prick had the fucking cheek to look concerned about it as he started me down with sympathetic blue eyes.

“You’re upset with me...” He stated; his voice not at all accusatory, but just the statement alone got me riled up.

“Gee; I wonder why that could be?!” I sneered as I strode towards my bike, eager to get as far away from Billy Hargrove as possible, and maybe run him over with my bike.

“C’mon Lola, talk to me...” He asked, trying to come across as reasonable, but sounding every inch the petulant child to my unsympathetic ears; though really, what could the fucker expect?

“And what could we possibly have to talk about? Hmm?” I asked, sounding condescending as fuck as I paused from sorting my helmet just to drag this bitch.

“How you acted a total dick all of Saturday night?” I asked, keeping the first accusation light, because the real heavy hitters were best suited for when he inevitably tried to defend himself.

“Or how you took advantage of me then left me standing there like a hooker?” I spat, but still no dice.

Billy stood there taking it like a man, when really I wanted him to whine and scream like a little girl, because he didn’t get to be such a smug little shit, then play the mature one for an audience.

But you know fucking what; that was fine, because I still hadn’t brought out the big guns.

“Or maybe, just maybe you want to talk about how the entire school thinks you fucked me on the floor of Tina’s bathroom?” I spat, annunciating every word like it was the most incredulous thing I’d ever said.

“I never said that—“ Billy cut in, actually having the nerve to smile and look sheepish, but it was easy for him; it wasn’t his reputation getting dragged through the mud.

“But you didn’t deny it either.” I corrected him, unwilling to play these stupid “he said, she said” games with him.

He knew what he’d done. That by just smiling and looking smug when asked about the rumours, he’d only fanned them further. He was as responsible as Tommy for this shitshow, and quite frankly; I didn’t have the patience.

I threw my leg over my bike and pulled on my helmet, ready to make a speedy exit and hopefully blow enough exhaust fumes in Billy’s face that he’d keel over.

“C’mon Lola; we can talk about this...” He petitioned; that same needy whine edging into his voice that I was sure drove the girls wild.

I just kick started my engine, pleased with how it’s ferocious roar drowned out his voice.

“Lola...” He called out again, but fuck him.

Two more revs and I was cruising out of the parking lot at way above the fifteen miles per hour suggested speed limit, leaving Billy choking on a bitter tasting cloud of dust and gasoline fumes.

Fuck; did revenge taste sweet!

—————————————————

Sixteen minutes was an all time record for my ride home, and yeah; I’m pretty sure that patrol car out near State Street caught me speeding, but fuck if any of the blues in this town tried to cuff the chief’s daughter.

The woodland air tasted like mulch and rot and earth, but damn if that weren’t the sweetest thing when I was soaring over tree roots, feeling every inch the Evel Knievel as trees flew past in a blur of burnt orange.

When I’d pulled up outside the cabin; I’d expected some small act of retaliation from the kid; a window left open, or a lock undone, but what I was greeted with made my stomach drop right out of me.

The door was wide open; and I’m not talking blown open by the wind, but swung open wide, as if by force.

I dropped my bike faster than a bag of rocks, not caring about the damage; I could replace parts, I couldn’t replace the kid.

I rushed up the steps, taking them in one solid bound, before pausing at the door frame; my heart hammering in my chest like a jackhammer.

“El?” I called into the emptiness; my eyes scanning over the seemingly undisturbed interior of the cabin.

Everything was right where we’d left it this morning, from the pile of dirty laundry by the kitchen, to the unwashed glass on the coffee table.

I swept across the room, making a beeline for her room; dread in the pit of my stomach.

The door was closed, but I feared what I might see on the other side.

Images of a dark night less than a year ago sprang into my mind; a house hidden in the woods, the scent of blood and offal, a sharp hissing that stayed in my mind for weeks.

“Eleven.” I called out as I sprung open the door; my breath held as I gazed on what should’ve been a horror.

Empty.

Eleven’s things were all where she’d usually leave them; pyjamas crinkled up on the floor, a book on the nightstand, but no Eleven.

It almost appeared that she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, and with the knowledge I now had about Hawkins, that very well might’ve been a possibility.

Still; I wasn’t going to give up that easy, I was a Hopper; goddamnit!

I strode back to the front of the house and onto the porch, determined not to think the worse; that somehow, somewhere she was okay.

“Eleven?!” I called out into the woodlands, caring very little on who heard as my eyes scanned the tree line for a sign of life; anything that could’ve told me what might’ve happened.

Nothing.

Not a snapped branch or a disturbed shrub. Even the traps were untouched. It was truly like she...

No; no, that couldn’t be true.

“Eleven...” I yelled again, panic begging to seep into my voice, because this couldn’t have happened; it shouldn’t have.

We’d been careful; damnit!

We’d taken no unnecessary risks!

She couldn’t be gone.

Panic was begin to bubble up further now; my heart drumming in my chest like a racehorse.

I needed to talk to dad; maybe he had her, maybe she’d...

No; Christ that was stupid, they wouldn’t have....

I ran back into the house, diving on the HAM radio with the desperation of a soldier reaching for a gun.

My mind racked for the bit of Morse code my dad had taught me; tiny snippets of dots and dashes dancing into memory.

[boycottphil]

Omg if you're writing usuk can you please do something involving the Beatles/Beatlemania or the British Invasion in general? Theres so much good material there but no one really writes about it. I will love you forever

For context, I am taking fanfic requests!

This was a lot of fun to write! I wasn’t too sure if this is what you meant, anon, but if it’s not, feel free to send another ask! I’d be happy to write more. Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: UsUk Rating: T Warnings: Strong language, mentions of blood, smoking (cigarettes)  Word count: 2026  

Imagine hundreds of thousands of people screaming your name. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people obsessing over your every step, word, move… Imagine loving every second of the intrusive behaviour displayed by fans.

Arthur, the lead singer of the “best band in history,” lived off of such things. Fame… It brought him joy, joy which he previously thought was impossible for him to feel. He was surrounded by security, yet his favourite moments were those when a fan managed to get to him, and looked at him with amazement in their eyes…

Looked at him as if he were a god.

[[MORE]]

Now, one could say that such thoughts and such behaviour was perhaps a bit… unhealthy. And one would be right. Arthur was sick; getting off on his own fame, and as he gathered more and more fans all over the world with each tour, he felt better. And better.

His band was good, not the best band in the world, per say, but definitely good. Their music was largely enjoyed by a female audience. Girls loved to imagine the songs being sung to them personally. They were written to be perceived that way. No names of girls were mentioned… no hints at any particular gender were given either.

Now, there were rumours, as there always are surrounding any band as huge as Arthur’s. Rumours like selling their souls to the devil, rumours like being robots invested by the government. Rumours like… being gay.

Arthur could only benefit from rumours that claimed he was an alien. It added more mystery to his character, more reasons for people to check out his music, come to his concerts. However…

Rumours that claimed he was gay could destroy his career. The thing is… he is gay. He does not fancy women at all. He couldn’t care less when girls form whole crowds and take off their shirts and bras. He didn’t care about his bandmate’s groupies offering threesomes or foursomes or ogies. He’d rather bang his bandmates if he didn’t despise them all.

He came quite close to having his career ruined, though.

One day, while touring the United States, they stopped in middle-of-nowhere-town of some State that Arthur thought was made up by the Americans to make it to 50 states in the first place. He was still convinced there aren’t 50 of them, but 10 divided into five parts each. But he would not express that opinion. Lest someone shot him for even mentioning the USA in any context that doesn’t presents it as the best country on the planet.

It was a town they were merely passing through, but they had to stop for fuel and food and for the drivers to rest a bit as well. Arthur wore his sunglasses and had clothes on that he wasn’t known for wearing, and decided to walk around town a bit. They had a few hours, and he wasn’t about to pass the opportunity to stretch his legs and turn off his brain a bit. Touring meant little walking and too much work, so moments such as those were few and far between.

He had purchased a box of cigarettes, which he planned to get through before he had to be locked in a fast moving vehicle again; in which he wasn’t allowed to smoke. With a fag already lit and dangling off his lips, he walked out onto the pavement, ready to resume his walk just when…

He was bumped into by some 5 foot 6 tall boy. He groaned as his cigarette fell into a puddle, together with his sunglasses. He grumbled and hurried to retrieve his glasses but, well… the kid already saw.

“Arthur Kirkland?! No way!!” He yelled too loudly, his voice far too deep for what Arthur assumed was a 13 year old boy.

“Shh!” Arthur shushed and then wrapped an arm around the other’s head and covered his mouth so he couldn’t make more noise. He felt screaming behind his hand and the boy seemed to be losing his mind just from being touched. Arthur did love attention… but not in some hick town when he was looking for a quiet place to smoke and meditate until he had to leave again.

He dragged the other into an alley- not a suspicious thing to do at all- and shushed him until the other stopped freaking out. He rambled about being touched and carried by Arthur, all of which was technically true, but it sounded so much more dramatic coming out of the kid’s mouth.

“Okay, listen here, kid-” he started, but was promptly interrupted.

“Kid? I’m 19!” He argued.

Arthur looked annoyed, but slightly less on-edge about dragging him into a dark alley. “Whatever, mate. Just stop screaming like a bloody schoolgirl. I don’t want this whole town to know we’re here. The paparazzi would hound us for hundreds of miles, like they did in the last town this happened in.” He explained as he lit his second cigarette- he was mourning the first.

“So you really are Arthur Kirkland?” The other asked, already taking off the backpack he had on and reaching for the first paper and pen he had. “Would you please sign this?” He asked, his bright blue eyes shining in anticipation.

Arthur frowned, but he took the pen and, without really looking or even thinking about it, produced a perfect loopy signature.

“Whoaa… That’s so cool! My name’s Alfred so could you…”

Arthur added, ‘for Alfred, stay cute’ at the bottom, as he does for all signatures, merely replacing the name.

“You think I’m cute?! Wow, Arthur Kirkland thinks I’m cute!!” Alfred said, his voice so high pitched in excitement that Arthur almost really did think he was cute.

“No, mate- I write that for everyone. Most of my fans are girls, you see and-” once again, he was interrupted.

“But you do think I’m cute! I can tell. You keep looking at me,” Alfred insisted, perhaps a bit cheekily. Arthur blinked, trying not to seem too taken  aback.

“I, uh… I don’t… What?” He was usually never speechless. He always had a way to make a fan swoon over him with smooth comebacks and flirty lines that made girls go absolutely mad. But this was a boy. A boy who had called him out on his obvious interest in him, and a boy who, while excited to see him, clearly didn’t think he was a god.

Weird. He was supposed to always be seen as a god. What else could he be seen as?

“So… if you could keep this meeting to yourself for the next 24 hours, that would be bloody fantastic. Now, if you excuse me…” he mumbled and started walking away. He thought Alfred would be satisfied enough with that; he got an autograph and a hug- sort of. But no…

“So where are you headed now?” Came the American voice of the 19 year old who just decided to tag along.

Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil just a bit. “That is literally none of your business. Literally.” He sighed, exasperated.

Alfred fell into step beside him, keeping up easily even as the Brit tried to speed up. “Aw, come on! I won’t tell. I know how to keep secrets! I’m great at it. This one time, my cousin Austin, he told me that he and his aunt on his mum’s side-”

Arthur stopped abruptly. “How the fuck are you good at keeping secrets?”

“Well… I… You don’t know my cousin Austin, do you?”

Arthur groaned and kept walking, now deciding to ignore Alfred entirely. The teen though; he decided that he would ignore Arthur ignoring him. The Brit continued walking and smoking his cigarette as if Alfred wasn’t right there, and talking his ears off about dinosaurs and spaceships and how much he loved boys and how he knew Arthur could relate and-

Wait.

They had at that point reached a park, which was perhaps the size of two average backyards. There was no one around, and Arthur really appreciated it.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, his blood really getting to a simmer.

“Well, you know… You’ve never been seen with a girl, you never touch girls, you don’t talk about girls, you don’t even seem interested to all the girls we just passed while getting here. At all. You’re gay, and I can tell,” Alfred claimed.

“I have absolutely no idea where you get those ideas from. How would you know what I do in my free time?” He crossed his arms, perhaps a bit defensively.

“You look at my lips and arms so much, and you’ve looked at my ass too. I’m not dumb, you know! There’s no shame in being gay, Arthur. It’s all just-”

Arthur was angry at that point. He threw his half finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then turned to face Alfred. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you’re gay and you think making up lies is going to turn me gay, then forget about it. All right? I don’t even mess with groupies in the first place. Would you kindly leave me the fuck alone now?” He said loudly, keeping his composure enough not to yell at this kid.

“You’re just mean and in denial because you think if you come out that girls will stop obsessing over you. That’s okay. If you don’t want a groupie because all of them are girls, that’s understandable. But I mean… I’m free. I ran away from home a week ago. I have nowhere to be so… I could come with you. Warm your bed at night. Maybe do a few more other things too. Like ride you while you-”

Arthur punched him. He got too heated, too angry, amd he just… threw the punch. His knuckles ached after, and Alfred was holding onto his bleeding nose. It didn’t seem broken, but knowing the consequences of literally punching someone, Arthur began briskly walking away.

He should have expected to see the American again, before he even managed to walk down half a block. How he could cradle a bloody nose and run after him was a miracle.

“That was so rude!! I did not deserve to be fucking punched, man! I was just teasing you, dude! It’s literally not my fault that you are hiding your repressed homosexuality-”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Gay.” He growled, taking one step closer to the teen with each word uttered.

Alfred was practically pinned to a wall just then, looking up at the Brit with wide blue eyes. He was tall and handsome and…

And he kissed Alfred before he could get socked again. Instead of being pushed away and hit, as Alfred expected he would, he was pulled closer and kissed intensely enough to have all the air sucked out of his lungs.

Arthur pulled away seconds later, practically pushing himself off Alfred. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes looked wide and shocked at what he had done. He looked around, then took Alfred’s hand and ran toward the bus.

He fucked up. He fucked up big time. But that’s okay… No one saw. And if he just kept Alfred with him on tour at all times… No one would find out that he was gay. At all.

“Is everything you need in that backpack?” He asked Alfred, out of breath from running, once they arrived at the bus.

“Yeah, why?” He asked and took off his backpack so he could take some tissues out and clean the blood off his face.

“Good. You’ll be coming with us on tour,” Arthur stated bluntly, not even bothering to listen for a yes or a no. Alfred grinned like a kid and hopped into the bus behind Arthur, already reaching out to cop a feel of his favourite singer’s ass.

Needless to say, Arthur did get himself a groupie. Involuntarily. And now every day became a series of “I almost outed myself to my millions of crazy fans.” It could be worse. At least he sleeps with a cute and annoying twink every night.

[passiontaee]

[rec:] (m) | 01

pairing: leaderline x reader

genre: smut

ratings: m 18+

warnings: studio sex, daddy kink, choking, foursome, crying kink, cum play. spanking, light bondage, anal sex

word count:  2,558

summary: it’s not easy dating idols, let alone two. but luckily they’re in the same group. the only problem is one of their group members has his eye on you too and well, three guys one girl? Seungcheol makes your blood boil but yet and still he also seems to know how to make you weak in the knees. and whether you know it ot not, Soonyoung and Jihoon have picked up on this and have arranged something for their baby girl. 

a/n: she’s going to die but that’s okay! here’s your leader line smut b. Also, uhhh don’t try to fit this many dicks in your ass. Or any other orifice.You might rip something important. 

Polyamorous relationships were pretty difficult. Especially when you’re dating two idols. Well, originally one, but at some point Jihoon had been added to the triangle and thus the love circle was complete. You’d fallen in love with Soonyoung and his delightful personality, sweet smiles, and sinful hips. He’d been your first, and who you’d assumed would be your last, but Jihoon had something you’d enjoyed as well. Enjoyed a bit too much. Soonyoung had seen that and well, after a few trial runs, and now it was safe to say you proudly belonged to two amazing men. What you thought was odd became normalized; dates with two men at the same time, threesomes, and watching the two fuck each other when you were tired or when you weren’t able to have sex—curse that monthly curse. Of course, it wasn’t about just sex. Sex was great with the two yes, but you truly loved them both. And they loved you just as much. 

Seungcheol was a problem. There was just something about him that drove you up the wall. Maybe it was how he’d cling to your boyfriends, or how he’d hover over you. Flashing smiles, fleeting touches, and light presses of his hips against your ass when he reaches for things and insists on going behind you versus sidestepping and going around you. But you can’t deny it—as much as you want to see his pretty little neck wrung between your tan fingers, you would rather have those long fingers wrapped around your neck as he pounds into you. Looming over you with lust in his eyes and his jaw set. You don’t tell Soonyoung and Jihoon about those nights you spend in your own apartment, where you fantasize about Seungcheol even when you’re having phone sex with the other two males. There were a few times Seungcheol almost slipped out when you were having sex with Soonyoung, but of course you always managed to save yourself before it happened. But your boyfriends picked up on how you’d glare at Seungcheol and the other male would smile kittenishly at you, as if he knows that you hate him but wouldn’t mind letting him split you open. Or in half. Ugh. 

♡

“You’re so cute when you try to resist my advances.”

You hear him before you see him, rolling your eyes as he corners you in the kitchen. Yet again. 

“Seungcheol—”

“Come on, y/n. One little taste. I’ve had my eyes on you for the longest, and I know you’d enjoy letting me pound that sweet ass,” he hums, hovering yet again. Caging you between his arms as he prevents you from moving, hands on either side of the counter. You start nervously sweating but you don’t look at him because yes, you want that. Instead, you gather your strength and you scoff, pushing at his chest. 

“Back off, I need to get back to my boyfriends,” you insist, making eye contact. He pouts momentarily but relinquishes, instead leaning on the counter beside you, watching you. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind. Besides, you’ve got two. Wouldn’t hurt to add another now would it?” he questions boldly. You look at him as if he’s lost his mind. You want to slap him, but it’s Mingyu who tears you away from grabbing the kitchen knife and castrating the cocky bastard right in the kitchen. Regardless of the fact that Jisoo will positively have a heart attack at the copious amount of blood you know that the male will lose. 

“Hey y/n, Jihoon-hyung wanted me to tell you that he’s tired of waiting and he and Soonyoung-hyung are about to start without you. Whatever that means but it sound nasty so please.” The tan male looks disgusted but you perk, giving Seungcheol a glare as you make your exit, patting Mingyu on the arm as if to thank him for saving you from either murder or bending over and spreading your ass for Seungcheol to take and claim. 

♡

You arrive to find them cuddled up. Well, more like Soonyoung clinging to Jihoon, chin on his shoulder as the shorter male fools around with some sounds on his computer. You grin at the sight, closing the door gently. You wonder if you’re supposed to feel jealousy seeing them together without you, but the copious amount of sex tapes they’d sent you tell you otherwise. You slide on over, kissing them both on the temple and slither over to Jihoon’s other side, sitting beside his computer. You know blocking him from the device would mean you wouldn’t get the sex you want, so you refrain from being a brat. For once. Soonyoung notices you and looks at you with a grin, melting your heart. So cute. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” you hum. Of course, the three of you wanted to fool around. This time in Jihoon’s studio. This is his sacred place, his bubble. So the fact that he’s allowing this is a feat in itself. 

“It’s fine. Let me finish this up really quick. You two can get started and I’ll join in in a second,” he says. You pout, attempting to bat your eyelashes at him, but he ignores you. Soonyoung doesn’t mind this set up and gets up, walking over to your side and immediately slipping between your legs, arms going to wrap around your waist as he plants kisses along your cheek playfully. You giggle softly as his lips move closer to yours, starting off with quick pecks until they turn into slow, deep kisses where his hands move to grip your waist, thumbs digging into your skin beneath the oversized hoodie you’re wearing.He bites gently on your bottom lip, pulling at it and you glance over, seeing Jihoon watching intently. I thought you had work, you think to yourself, but you turn your attention back to Soonyong’s sweet mouth, his tongue slipping into your wet cavern which causes you to mewl, cupping his cheeks and keeping his face close to yours. He presses into you and from your position you can feel the beginnings of an erection, which makes you smirk, pulling away and mouthing at his jaw hotly. He sucks a breath in through his nose, positively aroused, his hands moving to the top button of the hip hugging jeans you’re wearing. 

“I thought I said wear a skirt today,” you hear him pant in your ear, a bit amused judging by his tone. You press a lightly kiss against where his ear and jawbone meet to placate him. 

“It would’ve clashed with Hoonie’s hoodie,” is your reply, Jihoon humming at the affectionate nickname, eyes back on his computer screen. You don’t miss how he adjusts himself in his thin sweats, cheeks a little pink. Of course he’s moderately aroused from watching you and Soonyoung making out so sloppily, and from watching you two feel each other up. Who wouldn’t be? You feel a nip at your cheek and yelp, only to hear laughter coming from Soonyoung shortly after. He enjoys biting; leaving little marks all over your honey colored skin that constantly remind you of who you belong to. It’s been something he’s been fond of doing since even before Jihoon joined you two, but now Jihoon likes to add to the mix his own marks; bruising purple and dark blue. They look so beautiful with your skintone that he sometimes even takes pictures. In both their phones there’s a special album of not safe for work photos they’ve taken of you in various states. 

Tied up and gagged with cum cooling across your breasts and face. 

Ass covered in hand marks from the spanks they give you. 

Bruises around your neck and collarbones from their mouths and possessive hands. 

Really, you three are wild—absolute freaks. Management has tried their hardest to shield these from the fans, but a video of Jihoon spraying your face with semen and rubbing it in with his tip got leaked a few months ago and well, the fans knew how nasty you three were. Not that you particularly care very much. You hum as your jeans are pulled off, warm hands palming your thighs. Soonyoung drops to his knees immediately, your left hand flying to his soft hair. You breathe through your nose shakily as he moves his lips from your knees up up to your inner thighs, pressing wet kisses and light marks from his teeth into your soft skin. You watch fondly, fingers scratching at his scalp. He’s good at giving head —absolutely an animal. Knows how to use his fingers, teeth, and tongue to bring you over the edge again and again, pushing you into overstimulation. There’s something oddly arousing about watching how his eyes darken at the sight of you whining for him to stop, insisting you can’t take anymore when you orgasm once and he keeps at it, force not relenting and speed not slowing. Soonyoung is a bit of a sadist when it comes to pleasing you, but oh is it worth it. 

“Eat our baby out, I’ll be back,” Jihoon says, getting up. He gives you two a fleeting glance, bites his lip, but promptly exists the room. Doesn’t even give Soonyoung a chance to agree or disagree with this, because Jihoon, despite being so small, is in fact the dominant party in your relationship. He’s dominant even when Soonyoung insists on fucking him. Fingering him open messily and getting lube everywhere while you watch and flick your fingers shakily against your clitoris. You’ve gotten off far too many times listening to the little noises Jihoon makes when he’s full of Soonyoung’s cock that it’s ridiculous. Your attention is thwarted when they’re a tongue pressing at your slit through your panties, hands pushing your legs further apart and pulling you closer to the edge of the desk, greedily lapping at the slight amount of fluid caught in the cotton of your underwear from the kiss earlier and Jihoon’s words. You make a noise, pleased, as he moves his head back, hands reaching up to pull the pink material down and off your legs, tossing them into Jihoon’s chair. You blink and he’s up on his feet again, kissing you with a grin. 

“A present,” he whispers, moving his way back down. He reckons the hoodie can stay on a little longer. You look cute in just the hoodie, slightly oversized. Jihoon loves oversized hoodies, and you’re no different, oftentimes stealing his and wearing them in his stead. But you know how cute Jihoon thinks it is when you steal his tops, jackets, and hoodies so he relinquishes and allows you to get away with it. Because his baby is cute and you’re his baby. 

“My panties?” You ask, parting your legs a little more. Soonyoung hums at this, hearing your amusement as he glides his pointer and middle fingers up from your lower lips to the upper, collecting slick as he does so. Lips drawn back in a playful grin as you shudder. 

“Yeah, why not? They’re that cute pink pair we like so much. You look so good in pink, baby. So pretty. Sometimes, I want to throw pink lingerie at you. Make you wear lace panties and lace bras. You looks so pretty in pastels,” he sighs as he slides his slick fingers through your slit again, memorized. “Covered in cum and wearing skimpy lingerie? Imagine how good it’ll look. Jihoon would love that,” he purrs. Your hips buck when he slips both fingers inside of you, humming at the pleasant stretch from the intrusion. He’d be adding his tongue soon, you already knew and were mentally preparing for it. But no matter how many times you’d prepare for that pink muscle to work your walls in the best way, you’d always lose your shit. Always. 

“Soonyoung—” you’re not really sure what you’re begging for, maybe for mercy when he crooks his fingers towards that one spot that has you hunching over, wanting to ride his fingers. Hands gripping the edge of the desk as your noises become a little louder. He positively enjoys this, seeing you come apart from just his fingers alone. He moves in after a bit more of this, scissoring his fingers open so that he can make room for his tongue. But he doesn’t immediately dive in. No, he’s not that kind. He gives your lips wet, open mouthed kisses, smothering your sweet cunt with kisses in adoration and desire. His tongue swipes up some extra fluid that oozes out of your opening, your eyes on him the entire time. It’s almost painful to watch his filthy tongue fondle your little pearl; the tip flicking against it with little remorse. Your cry out, legs shaking. “Soonyoung please,” you can’t handle him teasing, not right now. He moves away with a suckle, grinning up at you. 

“Come on, you can’t cum just yet. Not until our surprise,” he coos at you, but returns his head to your heat, his lips wrapping around your swollen nub and sucking, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your lips part and you choke on a sob, hips struggling to remain on the desk but it’s hard when Soonyoung is sucking at your engorged clit and scissoring long finger inside of your canal. The early beginnings of an orgasm start to grab you by the neck until the door swings open and the color drains from your face. 

Seungcheol. 

You can’t even process Jihoon walking in behind him and shutting the door, can’t even feel Soonyoung between your legs. Your eyes meet as he glances down, seeing a blonde head between your legs and smirks at the sight of your useless legs trembling. He licks his lips and suddenly you’re remembering that Soonyoung is between your legs, giving you the best head of your life and you choke, reaching a hand down to tangle in his hair, gripping it and eliciting a growl from his pretty mouth. You’re suddenly all the more aroused by the fact that you two now have an audience—and that Seungcheol solely has his eyes on you. You’re unsure what you’ve done to deserve his attention constantly but it triggers that rubber band inside of you to draw taut and pop, a silent scream causing you to gasp and nearly wheeze, eyes widening and jaw dropping as you orgasm, the man between your legs eagerly lapping up your release. He pulls away, miraculously and strangely, and licks at his glistening lips. You try not to look down at how your cum drips down his chin as well. Knowing you’re weak to that sight. 

“What, what’s he doing here?” you manage once you’re slightly cognitive, by this time Soonyoung hovering over you at his full height, stroking your hair and bringing you back with his lips at your neck, lightly grinding against your leg. Jihoon clears his throat, realizing now’s a good time to explain. 

“Our fourth party,” he states simply, though there’s a knowing smile on his face. You can hear Soonyoung chuckling from his position between your legs, partially, face buried in your neck. You blink at Jihoon, confused. 

“I don’t understand —”

“We’re having a foursome,” Seungcheol blurts out. 

Your soul leaves your body at that moment. 

[ chapter two ]

[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: WAMFest 2017

In which we photograph at a church, hang out at a bar, and win a bet.

Stranger Things may have been the reason for this post’s delay… … Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and if there’s one thing I love, it’s the festive season. No, not the Christmas festive season, I mean the music festival season. Late spring and summer (and autumn and the beginning of winter) mean endless festivals all over the place, and I’m stoked that it’s commenced. Unfortunately, the majority of large festivals in Western Australia are in fuck-knows-where (I’m looking at you, Groovin’ the Moo), though there are a few local ones that I’m immensely thankful for. One of these is WAMFest, for despite its problems – and believe me, it has a lot of problems – it’s a wonderful event that would’ve been way better if I found out about the Kiss My Camera awards sooner. I obviously wouldn’t have won; I don’t think they’d even consider my work “entry-level”, though it wouldn’t hurt to support more of Chris Kerr’s work. (I’m trash get over it.)

EXT. SHADY PLACE IN LEEDERVILLE WITH HORRIBLE LIGHTING – EVENING

I suppose we’re using screenplay intros now. There was barely anyone at the venue when we arrived. The only people around were the staff, artists (not even all of them), some performers’ mothers, and that random forty-year-old who looked like he resided in the comic book store from The Big Bang Theory. As the evening progressed, however, I’m thankful to say that more fans rocked up. Michael Uru didn’t have a full audience to commence with, though the first act did quite a remarkable job with his crowd of three. If I were in his position, I would’ve just screamed, “fuck this” and gone to find some shady bar to drink away my issues. But this guy had no such issues, nor was he the reason for the lack of crowd. So performing he remained. It was actually a better performance than I expected. Not to offend him, but as someone who prefers Cannibal Corpse and mosh pits to rap and raves, I wasn’t expecting to greatly enjoy any of the sets. (My honesty will ruin my chances of booking artists, I know.) But as I said, he did better than I expected; his songs were both catchy and sophisticated, with intriguing technological and lyrical elements. And his threesome turned to a foursome, fivesome, and soon to a proper crowdsome. Intermission. Lucid Reality: a bunch of random dudes rapping random lines as I took random photos from random angles, who did rather well at rapping random lines as I took random photos from random angles. The members reminded me of those shady kids from school, though I doubt the shady fuckers could perform this well. Intermission. Leon blinds me with his speed light. (Check his work out here; he’s freaken incredible.)  Hasmatt’s debut gig was set to be great, but I doubt anyone expected them to be this good. Personally my favourite set of the day, the band displayed an outstanding stage presence and audience involvement, and reminded me a bit of Homebrand – minus the demolition and screams of “PLAY INSOMNIA”. The crowd went from jump-on-your-friend’s-face ecstatic to mesmerised by Clauds’ solo, thoroughly engaged by a thoroughly engaging band. There honestly wasn’t a single thing I could fault about their set, except it probably could’ve been longer - but that wasn’t up to them anyway. Essentially, if you’re after a new rap act with vocal diversity and quite the live show, go check ‘em out! Intermission. If there’s one thing all the bands at this gig had in common, it was their extremely memorable lyrics. Modern Day Crisis was the perfect example. MDC: When we say “Modern Day”, you say “Crisis”!MDC: Modern Day!Everyone: Crisis!MDC: Modern Day!Everyone: Crisis Repeat this another fifty-six times and you’ve witnessed half their set. Which, quite frankly, isn’t a bad thing; it’s quite fun to shout those lyrics, especially on the train coming back from the gig. (This is why you have no friends, Sky.) Their set was quite enjoyable, and I had heaps of fun running from one end of the stage to the other, attempting to photograph these upbeat rappers. I realise that sounded sarcastic, though trust me it’s not. After their set, t’was time to head back home while screaming “Modern Day Crisis” at elderly women. (I know you told me to stop traumatising the elderly, Jas. I’m sorry.) Up next was Saturday, the day that usually follows Friday. I had four bands and artists at three venues lined up: Darling, Sydnee Carter, Flossy, and Julie Kember. I hadn’t worked with any of these musicians previously, and I was excited as all frick. After all, Julie’s set was going to be in a bar. As someone under eighteen, this was a wonderful opportunity to get drun- I mean to take lots of photos… yes… uhm… photos… let’s just move right along, shall we? INT. TRAIN, JOONDALUP LINE – EARLY AFTERNOON

I should begin mentioning the people I see on trains. We all encounter them from time to time, though it’s always amusing to emphasise their existence. So on that note, let’s discuss the many hooligans that accompanied me to the city. There were a lot of them. People – busy people, wise people, people with long beards, people who hadn’t slept in a week, and people in band merch who were definitely headed for WAMFest – all stacked against each other like sardines. Most were on their phones, avoiding any and all social contact, and there was the occasional mother chasing her children and worthlessly yelling “no” and “stop it”. Thankfully we were in the city soon enough to escape that madness, and headed to Virgin to pick up some phone credit. (Side note: The main reason I’m with Virgin is because it just proves how asexual – and forever alone – I am. It also provides me with free calls and texts to my grandmother.) This short trip was followed by a visit to Wesley Church, where the first group was playing. INT. WESLEY CHURCH - Screw it, I'm not doing these screenplay things.

I’m not a church person. I don’t go to church. I don’t even leave the house, though when I do, it’s certainly not to attend a venue like this. Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against religion - just don’t get me involved. However, I couldn’t resist the chance to shoot something different this WAMFest, thus why I sought (and fortunately received) the opportunity to work with the talented as – I’m not allowed to swear in this segment – the talented Darling. (There’s a thing with religious people about no swearing, right? I don’t know. I’m not up to date. Just attack me in the comments section or something.) For those of you who are like me and don’t usually listen to or give a – care about – choirs, I can assure you that Darling is no ordinary group; their amazing vocals are only a minor aspect of their performance. There’s something about these girls. I don’t know what it is, but it’s wonderful. They’re wonderful. Their passion is prominent and performance compelling, and they add uniqueness with their insertion of personality. Each member has a different voice, yet together they work so harmoniously. Hearing everyone’s solos was also incredible. But I may have ruined their performance… As I previously mentioned, I don’t attend churches. That means I had no clue as to how squeaky those floorboard were, or how loud my camera shutter really was. After all, I usually shoot at HQ, which has concrete floors and deafening speakers. Here there was none of that. So with each step I took, the ground beneath me creaked and an old lady wished death upon me. And I moved around a lot. It’s a miracle I wasn’t murdered. (I’d like to take this opportunity to apologise to Darling and offer to shoot for them again. You know, with a quieter shutter. And preferably at a less squeaky church.) Intermission. Grill’d stopover. Vegan burgers. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the editing that I had to do: seven bands’ worth, all of which had to be completed by Sunday evening. I personally don’t mind editing, though it takes around an hour per band and is done with full brightness, so you can imagine the visual strain and headache that us photographers have to endure.  But it’s part of the job and I love it regardless. Next up, we had to figure out where the Lot Party was. I knew its approximate location, however it still seemed a bit misplaced. Thankfully t’was easy enough to find… but the security checks were a bit of a nuisance. Sec. Guard: Sup in your backpack?Me: Camera gear.Sec. Guard: Open yer bag, ma’am.Me to myself: Don’t ma’am me…Me: *Obliges.*Sec. Guard: The hell is this?Me: …Lenses?Sec. Guard: Whaa ??? Ya can’t bring that in!Me: I’m shooting for the bands.Sec. Guard to his colleague: Huh ?? Get that manager ‘ere !! Oh the amount of times I’ve had to speak to managers… I’m not a very social person, dudes. If I can’t have a normal conversation with a person, it means I definitely cannot speak to high authority personnel. There’s a reason I run from cops, mate, and it ain’t due to the weed in my bag. Wait what The manager dude came over. I anticipated another round of questioning, similar to the style I encountered at the Alice Cooper show. I was luckily spared such exchanges. Manager: Wussup.Me: Camera gear.Manager: Ya should have a pass but that ain’t none of my business… go in.Me to myself: It ain’t my fault I never received one… but thank you anyway. Inside, I saw a few people that I knew. They were mainly bands, including Sly Withers, Rag N’ Bone, and that one group that I keep seeing everywhere but don’t know the name of. I could see Sydnee setting up on stage and soon got in contact with her and her manager, both of whom were lovely. Her manager told of how WAM failed to organise a pass, however I should be able to get in front of the barricade to shoot. When shooting time came, however, those goddamn security guards weren’t giving a shit about my job. Me: *Entering in front of barricade.* Sec. Guard #2: NO NO NO NO NO Me: But I’m- Sec. Guard #2: Njet! Me: But- Sec. Guard #2: Nein! Me: I- Sec. Guard #2: Shoo! Me: Well fuck you too. So behind the barricade I remained. Apologies to Sydnee about that. Blame WAM though. Sydnee’s set was fantastic. Her voice was impeccable, her playing equally as fantastic, and her band beautifully complimented her style. I’m quite a fan of her material, and loved seeing her play live. She’s got this humble, simplistic nature to her that highlights her personality and strengthens her performance; it’s brilliant to see. Not to mention the emotion and passion she projects. Intermission. Met Sydnee’s father. He was also a splendid fellow. My mother wanted to go and visit some nearby store, so we left Lot Party in search of it. T'was closed by the time we arrived, but it's fine because on the way back I saw a dude with a shirt that said "PERTH VEGANS UNITE". I would've complimented him, but we were crossing the Horseshoe Bridge and I didn't wish to be run over by oncoming traffic. Then my mother saw Daryl from Homebrand. She said, and I quote, “Hey look, it’s Insomnia dude.” I was too blind to see. Turns out that he – likely accompanied by everyone else from every HQ gig – was leaving, as WAMFest advertised Lot Party as an all-ages event, yet didn’t allow under eighteens to enter without a legal guardian. WAM later got in touch with me (regarding that overdue photo pass), and I used the opportunity to complain on behalf of everyone. This was my reply email, as you may’ve – probably not – seen on my Instagram story: “No worries, Aarom, I fully comprehend your troubles. It was such a large event, I'm astounded you guys managed to deal most - most - matters! We were able to get in and organised relatively well, however we do have a few concerns that may - and most likely will - affect your future WAMFest outcomes and ultimately profits. Our predominant issue was encountered by underage patrons at the venue of Lot Party: Advertised as an all-ages premises, it drew immense attention from teenage music fans, who were, quite frankly, your most crucial promoters; they brought more and more people to your events, and no other marketing techniques are as effective as kids online. Throughout the evening, numerous under eighteens flocked to the gates, attempting to, well, enter, though were refused entry as "a legal guardian" was supposedly required. However, this prerequisite was not listed publicly. As I'm sure you're aware, deceptive advertising is considered illegal, so I suppose you're all fortunate to have had WAMFest be a free event. (The inconvenience caused is quite atrocious, though.) We could technically seek transport compensation, though that's a large effort for a few dollars. (But if you're willing to pay up, I mean, I'm sure nobody would mind the extra cash.) I am aware that an informal notice was consigned via Facebook, one that read: "We provided a 500 capacity all-ages space at the back of the venue with seating, shade, food vendors and a digital graffiti wall. I apologise that it wasn't communicated that you couldn't stand front and centre, but we also programmed two other free all-ages stages at Forrest Place and Wetlands. Thanks for coming and your feedback will be discussed at out event debrief." However, providing a copy and pasted message - complete with typos and all - of apparent apology is unjustifiable, particularly due to the fact that guilt tactics were equipped to belittle the crowd (see: "I apologise that it wasn't communicated that you couldn't stand front and centre, but we also programmed two other free all-ages stages at Forrest Place and Wetlands"). All your message reads - and correct me if I'm wrong - is: "There was some room behind the gates for around thirty of you to somehow squeeze in to maybe potentially somehow not really see the top left hand corner of the stage. This way, that area didn't even constitute as an official part of Lot Fest, much like a carpark doesn't constitute as part of a venue, which allowed us to serve booze without getting sued; making us an exceptional profit. To make you feel comfortable, though, we gave you the option of food, undesirable activities and a one-3m2-tent-fits-all setup. If you still dare be ungrateful, however, you could've attended one of the other events we organised (with less interesting bands that we knew you couldn't mosh or break your necks to). We couldn't care less as to whether or not you are satisfied as WAMFest is far more wide-scale than that (and our profits were outstanding regardless), though we'll pretend to discuss it at a meeting that will probably never take place anyway." In all honesty, I don't see why you couldn't have been blatant with everyone. Oh, right: because that makes you appear like the bad guys. Wouldn't want that. Quintessentially, your handling of the matter - and the matter itself - was atrocious. Speaking of atrocious, the security didn't even allow photographers into the photo pit? What's the point of a photo pit if there are no photographers in it? Do you even need a barricade then? Perhaps this changed throughout the evening, though during the first few sets at Lot Party (I swear everything happens there), your security refused photographers entrance to the pit. Sorry, the supposed pit. For someone working directly for artists, this not only affects my portfolio but the material that said artists pay for. And if you even consider telling me to invest in a better lens, I will flip the fuck out. I must add, it was far easier entering The Laneway Lounge - you know, that bar - as an underage photographer than entering Lot Party with a parent. Concerned? You should be. Not by Laneway, for they followed precautions and did everything perfectly, but LP's staff. I appreciate security clearances such as bag checks and whatnot, but if a kid can get into an 18+ location easier than a supposedly all-ages one, then all I can say is this: what the heck?! I believe I've addressed these points rather clearly. Thank you kindly for your time. I look forward to your reply and having you guys discussing these issues at your supposed meeting."

This was what I received:

“Thanks for your email. After a ridic huge #WAMFest week (thank you to everyone involved!), I'm taking some time out overseas to recover.  Back Monday 13 November, so appreciate your patience til then. Anything needing a response before then can be sent to Kate at admin@wam.org.au.Thanks.” “To recover.” My email was predominantly for amusement, though I would’ve loved to see an actual reply. Anyway. The next act I was working for was Flossy, your favourite thrashy, punkish rock band. I honestly love the atmosphere that these guys set, and their music is great. Unfortunately, as I was filming for them, I only managed to capture three still images and was too focused on filming to actually pay attention to what was happening. However, I do have to say that from what I saw on the recorded footage, their set was 11/10. Intermission. T’was finally time to head to the Laneway Lounge, a bar – yes, a bar – located somewhere near Grill’d. Getting in was surprisingly easy, easier than getting into Lot Party, though the staff kept giving me weird looks. Yeah, I’m under eighteen. No, I’m not a demogorgon. Chill, bartenders, chill. Being allowed in also meant I won a bet at school: “You can’t get into an 18+ location until you’re eighteen.” Well, kid, you’re wrong. Now pay up. Julie Kember was soon up. I loved how she had her mother there watching her, t’was nice to know I wasn’t the only one. But seriously though: this lady has a beautiful voice. Her songs had stories and she were different from what I usually photographed, but similar to what I enjoy listening to. (No, she doesn’t play heavy rock.) T’was the perfect way to end a wonderful evening, and I thank Julie for both playing and hiring me. It was quite an interesting experience to shoot this gig, as there were so many new things happening. I usually shoot at one place (HQ), so this change of scenery was great. It also exposed me to not only new shooting techniques, but venue styles; it was a restaurant/bar, and in the live performance section you had tables lining the walls. So there were couples, elder families, and friends all seated along the edge, calmly viewing the show. It was like shooting at the church: a brand new experience. I loved it. It refreshed my aspirations of wanting to tour as a photographer, to continuously visit new cities and shoot not only in unique venues, but also around them; even the trip to the Laneway was eye opening. I’d walked past there many times, though never with any intentions (other than to eat at Grill’d). Spending a whole day shooting at different places really exposed me to more of what was happening around me. I know it sounds stupid – heck, it sounds stupid to me – but if you’ve been in that scenario, you understand. It’s a special kind of euphoria, a living nostalgia. It’s knowing that you’re finally succeeding in your ambitions. It’s simply wonderful. Intermission. Oh, wait… t'was over. So… yeah. That was that. Up next: The Faux at the Garage, w/ The Encounters, Those Who Dream, and Asheligh Carr-White. And up next in the 12 Days of Christmas: a new subgenre of photography (out tomorrow). MUSICAL SUMMARY: Michael Uru: humble, dedicated, and wonderful/5 Lucid Reality: are you my dealers/5 Hasmatt: take my money/5 Modern Day Crisis: wHEN WE SAY “MODERN DAY”, YOU SAY “CRISIS”/5 Darling: underestimated/5 Sydnee Carter: stunning performance/5 Flossy: hell yeah!/5 Julie Kember: modern nostalgia/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY: Lenses: yaaaaaaaassssssssss/5 Lighting: some was better than others/5 Camera: ain't complaining/5 Editing: painful/5 My sanity: whaaaa/5 Today’s gift goes to HQ, in the form of new lights that aren’t red, green, or any other colour that makes me suicidal. Y’all are welcome. Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate ps. JB HI-FI sponsor me pls.