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Actually this record is the answer to the prayers of any old school goth rock fan. It contains 13 tracks of traditional goth rock, in which deep haunting vocals, powerful guitar riffs and blasting drum machines create the perfect mood for dance-floor madness. In their lyrics the listener can find references to the lost cities of H. Lovecraft, the archetype of the vampire, apocalyptic prophecies and legends of ancient deities. Fondas SumerSon. Reply Notify me Helpful. Have: 34 Want: 10 Avg Rating: 4. Add to List. Strange Aeon's Signs. End Of Our Days. Use a sturdy tripod and if there is any wind then try to weigh your tripod down with your camera bag.

One issue you may run into with very long exposures is noise, there is a technique for reducing this, exposure stacking. Because noise is random, by taking two identical exposures, you can merge the two in photoshop resulting in a dramatic reduction in the image noise. As with the Blue Hour, it is best to work in Raw, especially as you may have a range of different light sources.

This is just a small selection of ideas and tips for night photography, there are many other themes you can follow, such as painting with light, moonlit landscapes and astrophotography to mention just a few. The beauty of digital photography is that you are free to experiment, review images instantly and find out what is working for you.

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Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Camera Craft. Claim Now. About the author. She knew that her soon to be husband kept speaking with other women, courting them and promising them a house and jewels. Jimin dissolves in a fit of giggles. His entire face flushes as he laughs, the long silver hair swipes over his legs and his ears keep twitching. Yoongi tries really hard not to smile but he fails miserably. Oh, this is amazing! I love her mind. Yoongi chuckles.

Jimin rolls on his stomach. He presses his cheek against the pillow and sighs. You earned your question. What should a human even ask a Gumiho? Yoongi feels like he has to be careful. He already disrespected a spirit once by doing something unspeakable, he can't risk angering another one. Jimin's smile disappears.

He looks at Yoongi with wide eyes, his tail stills just above his thighs. Yoongi feels his ears burning, he knows he's probably flushing. He squirms a little on the pillow where he's sat on and clears his throat. Jimin remains quiet for a few more seconds before a small smile stretches his lips. I like humans a lot. That's—Yoongi knows Jimin is probably referring to actual organs. To blood and hearts. That's what Gumihos eat, after all. And yet, with the way his voice lowered in pitch, with the way he drawled the words, Yoongi feels his skin prickling with heat. Pretty clothes, pretty jewels.

Things that shine. And things that smell good! So I always have incense and flowers here. Yoongi hums. Jimin scoffs at this, he brings the button of the pipe between his lips and takes a long drag of smoke. They taste disgusting. Spirits have a better palate, rats are gross and chewy.

Jimin points the pipe towards him. Now, tell me more. The Gumiho seems to be so fascinated with whatever Yoongi has to tell him, whether it's about that curse that turned a man's skin into grass or if it's about that time Seokjin sold a sleeping tea by mistake to a fisherman, causing him to fall asleep on his boat and end up being carried to a completely different village by the stream of the river.

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Jimin listens to everything and laughs a lot. He easily falls into fits of giggles, making squeaky sounds and covering his mouth with his small hands, claws so dangerously close to his cheeks. He doesn't move from his position on the pile of pillows, he simply lays there drinking and smoking, listening. Yoongi keeps asking him about silly things. If he ever ate human food he has. It's natural to speak with Jimin. Words flow easily out of Yoongi's mouth even when he's not one who's so fond of conversating with people he doesn't know.

Yoongi remains seated on the same spot on the floor even when his legs start hurting and cramping, too lost in the way Jimin's lips look when he smiles, catching on every little movement of the Gumiho's tail, staring at grey eyes for too long. The distance between them doesn't shorten, they're still at least four feet away from each other, but Yoongi doesn't mind.

It's good like this. The noises that come from the street downstairs are drowned by Jimin's light voice. The room smells nice, unlike the alleys of the village. Then, in the middle of yet another tale of a crazy curse Yoongi had to deal with, Jimin looks towards the balcony and sighs. To his surprise, the sky isn't dark anymore. It's already being painted with the colors of dawn, the sun will rise in a couple of hours or so.

Jimin hums and then he lays on his back, stirring his body with a pleased sound. Jimin smiles and looks at him. I really did. A grimace crosses Jimin's features, but soon he's grinning again. Jimin chuckles quietly before he rolls on his side and grabs a pillow from the pile. He holds it to his chest and then waves at Yoongi. The streets are empty and quiet as Yoongi walks back to the store.

The sky is starting to tinge with a light blue, the earliest hours of the morning are always so silent. His legs feel heavy after sitting still in the same position for so many hours but he's barely aware of them. He's been distracted for a good three days now, always spacing out and staring at the walls of the store until a noise or Seokjin's voice snap him out of it. Or, well, he knows why but he doesn't understand. Whenever he ends up spacing out, it's always Jimin's face that comes to his mind.

Or the way his name sounds when Jimin says it. Yoongi wants to go back to the whore house. Yoongi blinks several times before he lifts his gaze from the basket full of aloe leaves perched on his lap. Seokjin is looking at him with an arched eyebrow, the sleeves of his jeogori rolled up to his elbows. Yoongi frowns and looks down to the basket. The leaf of Aloe he's holding in his left hand is completely ruined, its gelatinous juice all over the wicker basket and even the knife is drenched with it, all slippery and soiled in Yoongi's grip.

Seokjin sighs and then he sits down on the threshold of the store next to him. Yoongi pretends to be busy picking a new leaf to peel but he can feel Seokjin's curious gaze on him and it's heavy on his shoulders. The older man has always been intuitive, he can read people easily.

Yoongi shrugs, he starts peeling the skin off another leaf. So the fact that you've been daydreaming for the last three days is, as you say, nothing? A faint breeze rises from the ground, Seokjin huffs once his hair end in his mouth. He swipes it behind his shoulders and mutters something about needing to tie them. Yoongi digs the knife too deeply and he almost cuts in half the entire thick leaf.

He looks at the new mess he just made and groans. He finishes peeling the skin off the plant and then puts the clean leaf on top of the little pile of Aloe that he accumulated by his side. Seokjin scoffs. Seokjin remains quiet for a handful of minutes after this, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Yoongi focuses on his task, cutting the Aloe a little faster now that he's not distracted by chatter. He'll have to squeeze the gelatinous juice out of them later, put it all in some clean jars and store them safely in their little storage.

Yoongi wonders what Seokjin will do with it, if he'll use the juice to make creams to soothe burned skin or if he'll make some new concoctions. Yoongi's hand stills, the knife just above the leaf of Aloe. He looks at Seokjin and he finds the man staring back with a hard gaze. He swallows and gets back to work. So it doesn't matter. Yoongi sighs. There's a wave of guilt that weighs down his chest, making him want to almost curl on himself. Seokjin shakes his head. You saved him and that is what matters. He's known Seokjin for his entire life, he knows there's more.

Had I not killed that spirit, Namjoon would be dead! He doesn't have to know. Seokjin heaves a deep sigh, deflating as the air leaves his lungs.

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I'll pay the price I have to pay, whatever it is. Seokjin looks at him, eyes narrowed and doubt swimming in them. He doesn't trust Jimin, that much is clear. Yoongi can't blame him, really. Don't make me lose you too. Yoongi stands in front of the door that leads to Jimin's room and he thinks that tonight, he won't simply let the fox play with him.

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He won't sit just because Jimin asks him, he won't keep him company, no. He's going to demand that Jimin asks him for a price and he will pay it, no matter what it is. Seokjin is right, he can't keep doing this. As much as he doesn't think Jimin is trying to trick him, he can also understand his friend's concerns. Jimin smiles once his grey eyes set on him. He smiles wide and genuinely, with a light flush on his cheeks. His legs are folded by his side, thighs covered by an incredibly thin layer of a blue fabric that looks particularly smooth and that glistens under the lights of the many candles lit in the room.

The blue robe fits snugly around his hips but it's loose on the chest and Yoongi can feel some sort of burning itch beneath his skin. Say no , Yoongi thinks, Tell him. Ask for the price. Jimin looks so happy. He can't quite keep a grin to himself and his tail keeps twitching where it's folded over his lap, eyes bright with excitement. The Gumiho spends his days locked in this room, doesn't he? Sitting on his pillows, gazing out the balcony, waiting for the night to come just so that he can be exposed for everyone to see like some sort of precious toy.

Why would he crave Yoongi's attention and company if not to get rid of solitude just for a few hours? Yoongi manages a smile and he nods. Maybe I'll even drink something with you. Jimin's ears perk up at this, and another wide smile stretches his lips. Yoongi sits down on the floor, this time closer to Jimin than usual. If the Gumiho notices it, he doesn't say anything about it. He simply fills Yoongi a glass and leans forward, handing it to him. He waits for Yoongi to drink the Soju before he worries his bottom lip for a moment.

There's a pull in Yoongi's chest at Jimin's voice, so quiet in the room, merely a whisper, an almost childlike wonder that swims in his eyes. Yoongi stays the night again, talking until his jaw hurts and his throat burns. At least once a week, Yoongi spends the night in that room of the whore house. Hoseok even stopped asking him questions at the entrance. He simply smiles at him, takes a long drag of smoke from his pipe, and then he nods towards the door. He looks smug in those moments, like he knows something that Yoongi is unaware of. Each time, Jimin welcomes him with the same wide smile and excitement.

Yoongi wonders if there ever is a bad time for Jimin. If next time he'll come later in the night, would it be a problem for Jimin? Or earlier? Maybe any time is perfect for Jimin. As long as there's someone he can speak to. He starts sitting closer and closer to Jimin as the nights go by. Jimin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he might even like it, judging from the small smile on his face when he sees that Yoongi places the pillow a bit closer than the last time.

When there are clients, Yoongi waits for them to be done sitting in a corner of the room without disturbing them. Jimin was the one who told him he could wait there, that there was no need for him to leave. It's in those moments that Yoongi is reminded of just how different Jimin is when he's working and that, once, he acted this way with him as well. A blessed spirit who, for some reason, was there for humans to use. It doesn't matter what problem or request a person has, Jimin will always provide them with an answer. Whether it's a young woman who wants to find a husband soon or it's a man who wants an enemy of his to die, Jimin always knows what they need.

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The difference, though, is that Jimin asks for a price. If you ruin it, find another snake. The customer, a man who had asked for a way to increase his wealth so that he wouldn't have to sell his shop, had thanked him profusely before leaving. It doesn't take long for Yoongi to understand that the prices Jimin demands are somewhat incredibly harmless.

He only asks for expensive liquors, or jewels, sometimes for new silks or for particular brews of tobacco for his pipe. No organs, no blood. Nothing that could harm a human. That only fuels confusion in Yoongi as to why Jimin still hasn't asked him to pay him back for his help.

Yoongi can't help but feel like a debt is still hanging around them, keeping some sort of barrier between them that doesn't allow him to get closer to the Gumiho. Jimin is lovely. He's lazy and absolutely unapologetic about it, he asks Yoongi to pick things for him even if they're not that far from him. Yoongi swears he has never seen Jimin get up from that mountain of pillows he always likes to lounge on.

He likes to wear pretty robes and yukatas that customer gifted him or paid him with because they're nice to touch. He always smoothens his hands down on the fabric just to feel the texture of it, smiling as he does so. He enjoys toying with his many jewels, especially the long chains because they make funny noises that make his ears twitch.

He has a huge box of incense powders to burn during the night because he likes the tingling sensation of his nose itching a little and because nice scents put him at ease. When he drinks too much his giggles are a lot louder than usual and his skin flushes prettily under the light of the candles. He loves hearing about Yoongi's different experiences with curses. He likes to listen to him talking about them even if they were scary, he even has some favorites that he sometimes asks Yoongi to tell him again even if by now he knows them by memory.

Sometimes he stares too long at Yoongi and, when he realizes that, he grows shy, looking down to his hands or fidgeting with the sleeves of his robe, lips pursed forward in a pout. And the way Jimin says his name— his voice lowers both in tone and volume, his eyes grow darker, lips tilted in something akin to a smirk.

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Yoongi starts spending at least three nights a week in that room of the whore house. His body has fully recovered, no traces of the illness left in him. He goes around the village buying ingredients for Seokjin and Yoongi without a problem, he even started fishing at the lake again. On one of the evenings that Yoongi decided to spend home, Namjoon goes to him. They're sitting outside the house, looking at the empty road as the night becomes darker and darker, smoking their pipes with two glasses of rice wine set between them on the outer hall.

Yoongi takes a drag of smoke, ignoring the horrible sensation that sits heavy in his chest. This is probably the spirits doing. They don't feel safe anymore in the lake after what Yoongi did, so the fish disappeared as well. Yoongi turns to look at his friend. Namjoon seems serene, his face free of creases of frowns.

He simply looks in front of him, his foot tapping on the ground slowly, a habit of his. And that now you keep visiting it. Namjoon snorts. But, well, this time I can't blame him. Yoongi takes his glass of wine and he takes a sip of it. I'm fine. Namjoon heaves a deep sigh and he remains quiet for a few moments. The wind rises suddenly, making the leaves of the trees nearby creak and ruffle against each other loudly. It settles down again until only a few crickets can be heard from the bushes. His voice is laced with concern and it makes Yoongi's heart ache for a second.

You keep referring to it as he. He's alive. And he has a name. Yoongi swallows thickly. He downs the rest of his wine in one long gulp, hissing at the burning feeling of the alcohol as it travels down his stomach. It still hasn't asked you for a price, but it will at some point. It might not even ask. It will just take. Yoongi doesn't reply and Namjoon seems to understand that this is the end of the conversation.

The man breathes in deeply and then he rolls his shoulders. He feels weightless, almost as if he's floating, and Jimin's hands roam over his chest, his stomach, his hips. Something soft grazes his leg, rising goosebumps over his skin, maybe it's a tail. Jimin is staring at him, pupils blown wide, the grey of his irises almost swallowed whole by darkness. His lips are red and swollen, shiny as if someone has been kissing them, biting them and tasting them. Yoongi feels himself shivering, his skin is too hot and he can't think, he can't even speak. Jimin is solid against him as the Gumiho climbs on top of his lap.

The pretty robe he's wearing slides off his shoulders, revealing his bare chest. There's a long silver chain hanging from his neck, ending just above his stomach. When Yoongi opens his eyes again, Jimin is beneath him. He's completely naked, his robe lays open under his back and his chest is heaving. Yoongi can feel the warmth of Jimin's skin under his fingers as he moves his hands along his hips, down to his thighs. Jimin is making soft breathy sounds, staring at Yoongi with half-lidded eyes, lips parted. Jimin gasps when Yoongi slides his hand between his thighs, he parts his legs more and his back arches when Yoongi presses his tongue flat on the side of his neck.

Yoongi wakes up with a startle and he immediately sits up. He can't seem to catch his breath and he feels lost in the darkness of his own room, the sheets stick uncomfortably to his sweaty skin. He—this is the first time he dreams of Jimin like this. As much as the Gumiho has populated even the nights when they were apart it was never in this manner, never. There's guilt and shame washing over Yoongi, making his skin flush and burn.

At the same time, Yoongi can't help but wonder—is that how his name would sound if Jimin called it under Yoongi's hands? It's a warm night. The street outside the whore house is unusually quiet, no loud voices, there's almost no one out. The night itself has been quite slow.

No clients of any kind, even the whore house didn't have many "normal" clients, judging by the lack of cries and lewd sounds that would sometimes reach even Jimin's room. Yoongi sits a bit further away tonight, smoking from his pipe as he looks out the balcony at the night sky. There is a new moon and almost no clouds, a gentle breeze comes into the room from the opened window.

Jimin is lounging on the pillows, laying on his side. Taehyung and Jungkook are sleeping in front of him after they played for hours in the room, chasing each other and throwing a ball made with cheap fabrics at one another. They collapsed out of exhaustion in the deepest hours of the night, crawling to Jimin's pillows and laying there, curled around each other and clasping their hands together. Jimin is stroking Jungkook's hair with a small smile, looking at the two pups as they sleep. Or did you run out of silly curses to tell me? Yoongi grins around the button of the pipe. He takes a drag of smoke and breathes it out slowly.

But I have more, stories that my mother told me. Yoongi shakes his head. But yes. Jimin blinks and then, slowly, a pleased smile curls his lips and heat rises to his cheeks. Jimin's smile fades away in a moment at the question. He looks down to the two younglings and swipes his thumb over Jungkook's cheek. The little one squirms a bit in his sleep and cuddles closer to Taehyung and he sighs once he settles down. Far away from the villages, in the woods. How did those two end up in a whore house? Yoongi's eyes widen. He's heard tales of fox spirits who were also able to shift in full foxes.

They're incredibly rare, some think that they're mostly extinct. They simply live in the woods in peace. Their furs, though, are quite beautiful and some humans don't have qualms in murdering spirits to sell those. Yoongi feels something acid burn in his stomach and he swallows heavily, his hand shaking around the stem of the pipe. The hunters had no use for them so they tried to sell them as slaves. Hoseok told me about the auction, it was happening just behind this house, so I told him to buy them for me. Then I begged the owner of the whore house to let me keep them as my helpers, I have a certain influence on the man so he couldn't refuse.

I keep them safe. And together. Jimin looks up from the two babes with a bright smile and something intense in his gaze. His ears flick on top of his head. Jimin shrugs. And they were promised to each other before they were even born. Their families united just so that these two could be together in the future, they're fated. Bound together. And Taehyung is so protective of him, you know? They're meant to be. Just because they're too young to know what love is it doesn't mean they won't learn about it.

It does explain why those two are in this house and the fact that Jimin keeps them safe reassures Yoongi who, even if he doesn't want to admit it, feels oddly protective of the two pups. Jimin's hand stills on top of Jungkook's head for a moment, the Gumiho's body grows stiff. He resumes his attention on the young spirit but he doesn't relax. Yoongi ignores the sharp twist of pain in his chest. It doesn't last long, but his lungs feel tight all the same. He presses his lips together tightly and looks at Yoongi. I'm really not mad. Yoongi forces a smile and nods. He's not offended, not at all.

But that reaction tells Yoongi more than he expected. Yoongi opens the sliding doors and steps out of the room, then he turns around to close them. Yoongi remains still for a few seconds, he lets the words echo in his head, hopes he won't forget them nor the soft flush on Jimin's cheeks. Jimin never allows him to stay after the earliest hours of the morning. He wonders why. Maybe it's simply because Jimin is tired, maybe it's because he's bored and doesn't need Yoongi's company anymore. Something to keep each other apart. A firm line in the soil between them, traced with a wooden stick.

It's easy to erase but none of them is going to. And even if they did they'd still remember that there was a limit there, once. Namjoon is organizing the shelves, taking the old jars of unsold concoctions and powders and putting them away in a wooden box. As he does so, he also adds the new teas and potions Seokjin brewed during the night and the day before, putting them neatly over the various shelves.

Yoongi looks down to the herbs he's supposed to be mincing. His arms, for some reason, feel quite heavy and he doesn't really want to grasp the knife and start doing his job. He knows Seokjin won't be happy when he'll come back from the market and will find him doing nothing, but he's feeling lazy. It doesn't happen often, Yoongi likes to keep himself occupied as he grows bored easily.

But today he's distracted, which seems to be an often occurrence these days. He puts it on the shelf and Yoongi sees that it's a new tea, one that Yoongi never saw being sold. Yoongi looks down to the herbs again and he shifts uncomfortably on his wooden stool. Namjoon, who was about to put a small box of incense away, stops mid-action.

He turns to Yoongi with a raised eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest. Yoongi makes a non-committal hum. He licks his lips and sends a quick glance towards Namjoon, who seems to know already what is going on. Namjoon nods. He looks down to the floor for a few seconds before he replies in a quiet voice. They say that if you eat a Gumiho's heart you'll become immortal. Yoongi remains quiet after this. Namjoon seems to sense the shift in his mood and he resumes his work, turning back to the shelves and filling them with products.

Jimin likes expensive things and being spoiled, that much is clear, so maybe he never liked living in the woods. Maybe this life of his in that room is enough for him. But if it truly is, then why would Jimin need the company of someone like Yoongi?

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  • It's later than usual when Yoongi arrives at the whore house. The street is busy but, once he's inside the building, it's unusually quiet. Hoseok is leaning against the wall, his pipe held loosely in his hand, the man stares in front of him with a dull look in his eyes. He blinks when he hears Yoongi's footsteps and he puts on a smile, straightening up. Yoongi frowns at the bitter tone of Hoseok's voice but he doesn't ask questions.

    The man is friendly enough, sure, but Yoongi has a feeling that Hoseok is also quite reserved, that he keeps his secret close to his heart. Hoseok snorts and he smiles wide. Please, do bring me some. As he climbs up the stairs, Yoongi can't help but notice that his heart is beating loudly in his chest, vibrating with an excitement he hadn't felt in a while. Maybe it's because of the many dreams he had during these last nights. They weren't as—as dirty and lewd as the first one. No, in these new dreams Jimin simply smiles.

    Sometimes he talks a little, tells him about things that Yoongi can't quite remember when he wakes up, all he recalls is that Jimin's voice is light and airy, with a laughter hidden between the words. Yoongi reaches the third floor and he takes off his boots once he's in front of the door. He feels self-conscious suddenly and he smoothens his hands down the front of his trousers, grimacing at the feeling of the many creases in the fabric.

    Maybe he should've worn something a newer, something that fits his legs more than these loose pants. Yoongi frowns when his eyes spot the usual pile of pillows but doesn't find Jimin lounging there. The room seems empty at first glance, awfully quiet if not for the sounds of the street. But there's incense burning on the table at the corner of the room and Yoongi can smell the pungent scent of Soju. Jimin is sitting there, his upper body half-twisted so that he can look at Yoongi.

    He's holding a glass of liquor in his left hand, his pipe is on the floor by his side. They both remain silent for a few moments, a gentle breeze moves Jimin's long hair off his shoulder. Finally, the Gumiho grants him a small smile. Yoongi closes the doors behind him and he walks to Jimin. He sits down on the bare floor, his legs on the outer side of the balcony. From here, the view of the street is quite overwhelming. It's really high up and the people seem smaller than they should.

    No, you have to sit further to be seen. If we stay on the threshold they can't even see our feet. Jimin, who usually likes draping his body with precious fabrics and shiny jewels, tonight is wearing nothing but a very plain robe, white and thick. There's also a blanket of soft wool over his legs and tail, his hair isn't adorned with pins as it usually is, but simply let loose on his back.

    Jimin blinks and he heaves a deep sigh. He downs the rest of his soju and then he sets the cup aside. He puts his hands over his lap, fingers fidgeting with the blanket. He's paler than usual. Yoongi got used to the rich color of Jimin's skin and to see him this white under the moonlight feels foreign and scary. His ears, too, are low on top of his head, not standing straight as they usually do. I think they're sleeping.