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yukippe · 4 years

Text

soft as she is

for @pjofemslashweek day 1: firsts (first heartbreak, first love, first kiss) | read on ao3 | word count: 7.4k

chapter one

the war is coming. that’s the whisper coming from everyone’s mouth. drew hears it in every one of her siblings' sighs, she hears it at all the tables at meals, she sees in it chiron’s always tired face.

years ago, before the fall of the labyrinth or the revival of thalia grace or even the claiming of percy jackson - drew used to use charmspeak for fun. she’d convince her friends to go on the tallest roller coaster with her, or get her dad to take her shopping, or get off scot free when prank calling someone. when she tried to convince the world to get her a visit with her mother her voice ran dry. aphrodite didn’t even bother to visit her dreams and her charmspeak didn’t work for months. drew doesn’t use charmspeak much anymore, no matter what others say.

silena’s had her practicing everyday. silena is the only sibling older than drew in camp. and silena wants them to fight in the war. when drew and silena were the youngest in cabin 10 they’d stuck together, though now drew can’t remember what it was like to know all of her sister’s secrets. but, silena had whispered that her charmspeak could be more when they were little. now, silena is doing her best to make it so.

silena believes they can win the war that ends on percy jackson’s birthday. drew doesn’t have her faith, but she can fight by her sister if that’s what silena needs. she thinks of charles beckendorf and how silena refuses to hear anything on breaking up with him - and drew thinks of katie gardner in cabin four who never remembers to touch up her chipping nail polish. if drew’s only big sister left can have the type of love that lasts - maybe drew can too. the war is coming. drew doesn’t have much time left to take a chance.

halfway through june, right after katie comes back to camp, drew decides to completely innocently take up hours at the strawberry farm. she tells silena she’s testing out how charmspeak works on plants (surprisingly well) and she tells her friends she’s testing out a strawberry aesthetic (it turns out so well she ends up making earrings and ordering a new flavour lip gloss). drew doesn’t need to do much, it’s not like anyone would ever guess why she’s there.

nobody knows she likes girls, besides silena, and silena would never guess she likes katie. because katie’s good. katie doesn’t turn down quests, or work and she always reports travis and connor stoll to chiron when they’re about to pull a prank. she runs her cabin with her half sister miranda and drew’s never heard anything honestly bad about her, except for maybe the stupid jokes the stoll brothers say. if everyone knew she liked girls they would expect her to like someone like herself, drew thinks. someone obviously pretty and not covered in dirt who never wears makeup and doesn’t bother to alter the camp t shirt.

but katie’s katie. katie’s one of the campers that’s been around forever. she’s been at camp one summer longer than drew, when katie was ten and drew was nine, katie showed her around camp while they both waited to be claimed.

katie and drew came early. they weren’t the youngest, that was annabeth who had years on them both. katie was a summer only camper, but drew’s dad had told her she had to stay at camp until high school when he dropped her off that summer. he’d known her mother was a goddess - the story he’d always told was that he prayed for a muse and he got something even better. he didn’t know which one though.

so drew tanaka was left crying in the big house in camp full of kids too big with no clue who her mom was and her dad off to get back to his world of models and galleries and trips to europe. chiron had left her with a box of tissues, but he’d been busy trying to keep some children of the war god from starting a fight, like that was something normal around camp. drew just wanted to go back to her room with her fluffy carpet and her plans with her friends and her dad who normally listened to what she wanted when she phrased it the right way. she couldn’t get the words to take the right sugary taste and the perfect soft roundness they had when people listened. no one ever seemed to listen without it. but it took so much work to get them to sound perfect and drew was tired of it.

and then katie gardner passed by with a potted cactus in her arms. she’d only had a summer and a year on drew, but she’d put down the pot at the bottom of the steps and walked up to wear drew was sitting on the porch swing and sat next to her.

“i’m katie gardner,” she offered. “this is my second summer and. well i guess i kinda know how you feel. i cried a bunch last summer, but this place is nice. there are people like us here.”

drew had wiped her tears away and crossed her arms and looked katie up and down. “i’m drew. what’s your mom in charge of?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t been claimed yet,” katie said. her face got a little screwy at that and drew didn’t want to have to try and comfort another girl when she was already upset so she stuck her hand out to shake katie’s.

“your mom’s stupid then,” drew said. katie smiled softly and teary at that and drew didn’t mention it.

“so,” drew said, still holding katie’s hand because it felt right. “what is there to do around here?”

katie’s smile grew a little bigger and she stood up, pulling drew with her by their still linked hands, “the strawberry fields are my favourite spot, but the arts and crafts centre is also nice. we could make friendship bracelets there, if you’d like?”

“sure,” drew said, trying not to sound too eager. “i um. i’d like that a lot. Thanks.”

the rest of the first summer was a haze of flower crowns katie made for them and sneaking to the waterfall without luke noticing and drew painting katie’s nails in the bottom bunk they shared - all the other bunks full - and katie and drew lying lazily on the beach and trading flavoured chapstick and hoarding the smelly markers during arts and crafts. it ended with drew and katie both being claimed after they helped the cabin win capture the flag. then katie left to go home and when she came back the next summer they were in different cabins.

different cabins mean more when you’re eleven and ten. at sixteen and fifteen they don’t mean much at all. drew’s closest with her half siblings, but she’s friends with malcolm from athena and sits at the campfire with lou ellen and butch who’re claimed but both still stuck in eleven with no place else to go. She still isn’t friends with katie from though, what she wants is more.

there’s war coming. drew can want more as long as she lives, but she only has two months guaranteed left. she does her hours in the field at the same time as katie and she does a free block in the stables when katie does, even though she’s never liked the pegasi much, and she just so happens to make it to the scarce few parties in the woods (far fewer than any other year, there are less campers to go and less energy to bring to them) that she knows katie is going to.

and then, finally, she gets a chance. the stolls get called away with percy jackson on one of the little skirmishes that are popping up too often for anyone's comfort and that leaves the camp store unmanned for a day. they signed katie up to do it for them without asking and she’s angrily packaging berries in baskets when drew goes for it. she’s closing the baskets wrong - though she’s normally perfect at it - so drew plucks the basket she’s holding out of her hands and closes it properly, her perfectly manicured nails clicking the lid into place, before reaching out to pause katie’s trembling hands.

katie’s endlessly pretty when she’s mad. drew understands why travis always tries to mess with her, as she has katie’s eyes on her. “hey,” she says. the word comes out round and pink and drew’s heart races - her charmspeak isn’t what she needs now so she pushes it down her throat. “i heard the stolls stuck you with their camp store shifts, do you want a hand?”

she hasn’t been this nervous since she was nine and had katie’s arms around her while they watched the end of summer fireworks. drew’s never liked to look vulnerable so she hasn’t let herself be since before she lived in cabin ten with half siblings she could never quite trust.

the look in katie’s eyes shifts and the tenseness that was taught in her skin relaxes and she smiles, “sure, drew. i’m in tomorrow at two pm - don’t be late.” the last bit comes out a little teasing and drew smirks back.

“i’d never dare be late to meet you, i’ll see you then,” she winks, carefully, and then she slips past and around katie, her heart still racing but her face carefully composed, as she heads to her cabin. she sneaks a look back over her shoulder to see katie watching her go and she turns back quickly to hide her blush. tomorrow at two pm. she won’t be late.

instead, she’s early. silena had asked her where she was going and lacy and val had watched her get ready from one of the top bunks, but she hadn’t let anyone slow her down. she’d fussed earlier in the morning but she didn’t let any of it show as she left her cabin to meet katie. lou ellen had the shift before katie and she rose an eyebrow at drew as drew took her place, but she didn’t say anything. that’s why drew liked lou ellen so much, she’d wait to bother drew later.

katie arrives at two pm on the dot and giggles when she sees drew is early. “i knew you wouldn’t be late, but i didn’t think you’d beat me here.”

“i didn’t want to miss any time with you,” drew says with a shrug. the words themselves are soft, but she makes sure she says them with an edge. she’s taking a chance, but she isn’t ready to soften all her sharp bits yet.

katie wanders through the aisles, still giggling. “okay, sure drew. i’m just gonna make sure everything’s stocked up in the aisles and then we can just hang out.”

drew nods when katie looks to check for her reaction, and doesn’t let it show that it maybe kinda hurts that katie doesn’t believe her. katie doesn’t have any reason to think she was being honest - drew’s always had a bite to her and if katie likes her back like drew thinks she might, then hopefully they’ll have time to learn when the other is telling the truth in the time they have left. drew tidies up the till in the meantime. she’s never liked things messy, beauty and love can be messy all they like but the aphrodite cabin has always gotten perfect on cabin inspections for a reason.

finally, katie walks back around to where drew is. katie hops onto the counter and grins down at her and drew finds herself playing with her bangles. “so,” katie says, her legs swinging on the other side of the counter. “what made you want to join me here today? i know you don’t typically take shifts here.”

yesterday when drew got back to cabin ten after talking to katie in the strawberry fields silena had been talking about how she and beckendorf got together. silena’s told drew the story multiple times, but it’s a nice story. it’s a good love story.

“okay, okay, shut up everyone!” silena says, half laughing in her bunk, pillow clutched to her chest. the cabin all quiets down. every single one of drew’s half siblings know to pay attention to a love story.

“okay,” silena says again, catching her breath. “i’d maybe kinda saved charlie from giant ants-” at this, drew and all of her siblings shriek, they can’t help it, it’s family pride.

“omg shut up!!” silena says, sitting up. “do you want to hear the story or not?”

“oh you know you love it, just keep going!” mitch calls from the bunk under silena’s. silena throws her pillow at his face and he laughs, but silena finally gets back to it.

“okay! okay, so everyone had known he had this massive crush on me for years and i thought it was kinda cute i guess - but he didn’t do anything about it! and you can like a guy forever, but if he never does anything nothing’s gonna happen. it was capture the flag and we were running out of summers together so i was maybe flirting-” wolf whistles interrupt her, but silena shushes them all. “anyways! it was capture the flag and annabeth and i captured percy - but then he pointed out that charlie had been kidnapped by the myrmekes and i was so scared - though don’t tell anyone i was scared! - but i got it together and the three of us not only put together the giant bronze dragon in the woods we also freed charlie from the ant hill he almost died in and then! we destroyed charlie and percy.”

“um,” lacy says. “what about him asking you out?”

“oh yeah,” silena looks at her nails. “hm.” drew throws her pillow at silena and silena laughs. “okay! okay, so we got back from saving charlie and charlie had just jumped on the dragon to turn it off and it was like. super brave and very hot, you know? anyways after turning off a dragon i guess he figured out how to be brave enough to ask me out so he asked me to the fireworks - and i said yes thank you very much! i told him i’d been waiting for him to ask me the whooole time-”

“get it!!” cam calls.

silena laughs, “yeah so i tell him that, and then i kiss his cheek - just his cheek we hadn’t even gone on a date yet! but i kiss his cheek and charlie reaches for my hand, and after i kicked his ass in capture the flag we snuck out that night to go stargazing and - no more yelling okay it’s late!! and we made out by the waterfall - no yelling i said - but the best part wasn’t even that. it was when he lead me to the waterfall and told me he didn’t know how long we were going to have together but he wanted every minute with me, because he said i was worth every minute and he wanted as long as possible to learn what love was with me. and well, now we know!”

drew’s siblings shriek and laugh at that, even though it’s late and silena just told them not too. drew lets herself relax back into her bunk after she steals silena’s pillow from mitch - they always end up trading pillows like this at night when they tell love stories - and she thinks of tomorrow. she’s never had the love silena has. And yeah, silena should’ve dumped beckendorf and broken his heart like they were taught by their long gone older siblings. but, if silena can get happy ever after with her first love… drew can’t see why the same can’t be true for her. she doesn’t have much time left, so she wants as much of it as she can get.

“katie,” drew starts. her voice is shaking so she pinches her wrist and starts again, katie’s listening with a smile, it’s just as soft as the day drew met her. “katie i like spending time with you. that’s why i’ve been hanging around the strawberry fields recently, too.”

“i like spending time with you too, drew.” katie says. katie reaches out and places a hand on drew’s wrist. drew’s eyes watch as katie’s chipped green nail polish glimmers against her bangles. katie’s fingers separate the bracelets one bye one and drew’s breath catches.

drew breathes, slowly, “katie. katie i should tell you something.”

katie looks up into drew’s eyes, face warm and drew screws up her courage and okay this is the most nervous she’s ever been. yesterday isn’t even close. “katie i like you. you’re cute and you’re sweet, and i think we could be something special.”

drew bites at her strawberry flavoured lip and titls her head at katie. she’s - hopeful. and then katie looks away. katie’s legs have stopped swinging, coming to a standstill that drew has never seen katie ever have. and then katie pulls her hand away from drew’s wrist and drew wants to cry.

“drew i. drew i’m sorry but, i just.” katie looks back at drew and drew knows katie’s sorry but it doesn’t help. Katie keeps talking, but the words wash over her and she shifts her dumb hopeful smile into a smirk. that’s stronger. she nods at the right things and waves it off.

“don’t worry about it,” drew says and she lets her voice turn sugary with charm. “it’s chill katie. anyways, i’m gonna go. byeee.” and then she walks around the counter and as she leaves she doesn’t look back.

the war is coming. it makes sense. to her it meant a last chance, to katie it means there’s no point in worrying about love. (to say that to a daughter of the love goddess - drew knows that that, at least, katie didn’t realize)

it’s drew’s first heartbreak. seeing silena after beckendorf is her second. her third is when she sees her sister's face, melted and scarred and unrecognizable and - still painfully beautiful. the fourth is when she finds the charm around silena’s wrist as she burns her shroud and learns silena was a traitor. the war comes and goes and drew’s heart broke and broke and broke and she learns her stupid lesson.

after that, drew closes the door to her heart and she closes it on her siblings as well. silena didn’t want to break beckendorf’s heart, but she was a traitor. she would’ve traded cabin ten for kronos’s army - even if it wasn’t where she was in the end at some point she would’ve. drew turns the cabin sharp. she doesn’t think about first loves and she doesn’t think about telling her siblings the shape her love takes - instead she spends her rite of passage with a boy from nike who made fun of her when they were younger and she smiles when she breaks his heart. she doesn’t think about katie gardner.

(no, thats a lie. she thinks about katie gardner way too much. she’s different, everyone is, and even as drew lets herself harden she can’t help but watch as katie kisses travis at the fireworks. katie gardner breaks her heart again when she kisses travis and drew looks away and turns to malcolm to make fun of one of the new hermes kids.)

chapter two

the war is over. drew barely believes it. the first war made drew close her heart. it and everything it caused made drew meaner than she thought she could be. the war is over. But it doesn’t feel any different. when piper mclean swings into camp and goes on that dumb quest drew bites her lip and she sharpens her words even more than before and she’s just so fucking angry all of the time and the war is over but another one is right there and-

(she spotted katie and travis kissing at the campfire jason was claimed at but she just made a mess of herself and she’s so fucking tired of that. she’s so tired of not being right)

piper mclean comes back from her quest and everyone knows there’s a second war on it’s way. the first war is something drew tries to forget. she lost friends to it. she lost her family. The war is over. their lives were supposed to reach some level of normal. the fates don’t seem to give a shit, they seem to want everyone to live through it again. the first war was a nightmare but it’s over. drew wants anything but another war. except - the second war is giving her another sister. piper is the first new aphrodite camper that wasn’t already in camp since before the titan war.

piper takes the cabin counsellor role and drew lets her have it. the war is over. does that matter when there’s another one? but - the second war isn’t like the first. the titan war was her siblings crowding in their cabin together, holding onto everyone and hoping they wouldn’t lose anyone. it was learning her big sister was a traitor the entire time. it was. it was full of death. the second war isn’t free from loss, but instead of taking everything it gives them a sister camp. drew does her hours in the combat arena for the first time ever and she lets her new half brother michael teach her how to use a sword and she only puts up a little fight. at camp jupiter they live together into old age. the only demigods drew knows that lived to old age have dispersed through the world, available to call once or twice, but drew will never get a city with them. stupid annabeth chase wants a city, drew can see it, but it will be for the campers now. not the ones who left because there was no other life for them. the war is over. drew doesn’t know what that means.

for piper mclean little ms movie star, it means her best friend is dead. piper needs her to soften her words and drew does. she tells lacy to start sharing love stories at night when piper starts shaking and drew remembers what it’s like to spend her nights laughing with her half siblings again. the war is over. drew stops waiting to see what it means and decides that herself. she does butch’s toes in the rainbow pattern he likes and runs jewellrey making sessions in the arts and crafts center and she even participates in capture the flag for the first time since before the last war. she doesn’t open her heart up but she relearns her mother's domain. and she practices her charmspeak because piper might be her sister and she might be hurting, but drew’s not going to make everything easy for her. it’s not worth it if it is.

the last few weeks of summer are spent like that. drew enters junior year and ignored bratty sadie kane who thinks she’s special now that she’s a sophomore. she takes the lead in all the drama productions that are school wide and even bothers to help lacy learn how the lights work when she signs up so she can hang out with sadie. It’s...fun. the war is over. drew is still learning what it means to know she’s going to survive.

drew’s a daughter of aphrodite, but more importantly she’s the oldest camper and the longest serving camper in cabin ten. she’s seen her half siblings leave camp and never come home. she knows where they went, though, when they left the strawberry fields and canoe lake in the dust.

“where are you going?” drew asks. she’s twelve and her head counsellor is leaving with no plans to come back. arabella sighs as she packs her bags and turns back to look at drew, slumping onto her bunk as she meets drew’s eyes.

“drew, baby, i’m too old for camp now,” she says it sweetly, not quite the way drew’s charmspeak sounds, but close. “i’m gonna be a star, drew. another one of our siblings got me a spot on a new show and i’m gonna be on it. remember camilla, the head counsellor from last year? she’s in europe now doing fashion shows. mom might not visit us, but she did give us something special. when we have the drive we can be the biggest stars in the sky.”

drew nods, carefully, and then she holds out her little address book she bought from the camp store. if arabella is going to be a star, drew is going to have her contact information. she tells arabella that and her sister laughs and fills in her information with no hesitation. “drew, i’ll do you one better. i’ll give you all of the contacts of our siblings that i have too. when you’re ready for the spotlight reach out to any of us and we’ll get you what you need.”

the smile on arabella’s face grows as she signs the bottom with a signature that is clearly well practiced and fitting for a star. drew takes the book back and holds it close to her chest. over the next few years as siblings leave, drew carefully writes down their information. later, she adds it to her laptop and phone and backs them up as many times as she can think.

she has siblings on magazine covers, broadway stages, oscar winning movie posters. and drew has their numbers programmed on her phone. drew never knew what her calling was, now she thinks she has an idea. before she boards the bus to go back home with lacy she calls up arabella and she promises her an agent when she gets back from camp. the war is over. she can set her roots down anywhere and….she can leave camp without being a traitor.

when she and lacy get in a shoving match as they walk past thalia’s tree drew doesn’t dig her nails in to lacy’s arm to get her to stop. instead, drew pops a stick of bubblegum into her mouth and offers one to lacy. this could be her last summer at camp. part of her wants her siblings to ask her for her contact information before she leaves like she did for all of the cabin ten campers before her that made it out alive. lacy takes it, examines it carefully, and shoves it in her mouth.

then, drew pauses. “wait a minute. hon, didn’t you have braces?”

lacy nods, and then she curls her lips up as she smirks at drew, displaying perfectly aligned brace free teeth. “i got them off three weeks ago!”

“hm,” drew says. “they look half decent. fix the pigtails and i’ll maybe let you borrow something from my closet.” she keeps walking as she says that, chewing her gum. it’s strange looking at camp and not recognizing most of the faces. new campers arrive every summer and fewer leave. she turns to ask lacy if she knows who the group clustered around the big house porch are -

lacy is still back where she was when drew gave her the gum. drew raises an eyebrow and lacy stumbles forward, looking a little lost. drew grabs her arm and steers her towards cabin ten. lacy snaps out of her haze after a bit and manages to get into the cabin by herself. drew rolls her eyes and claims her bunk. she finds a few papers waiting on the table the typically stick shared accessories on and picks it up. It’s a bunch of head counsellor information and drew skips over most of it up to - assignments for older campers. drew still has to do some activities with her cabin but she’s outgrown some of the others, in the space where she used to have monster 101 and ancient greek and the like, she now has hours supervising and running events at the arts and crafts centre and - drew drops the papers and turns back to her bunk.

she’s almost completely settled in when piper walks in, leading a new boy with valentina and mitch. the four of them claim their bunks, there’s only one bunk left. drew’s eyes stay on the bunk. cam’s bags are left unpacked on their bed, lacy is in the bathroom, the new boy is being shown the ropes by val and piper, mitch is a year rounder...sometimes bunks are empty.

the war is over. silena’s bunk is still empty. drew closes her eyes.

“drew?” there’s a new girl sitting on the top bunk by the closet. drew memorized every single one of her siblings' names and faces at the end of last summer after her claiming before they all went back home for school, so she knows this girl is new. she’s wearing a headscarf with a pretty flower pattern and her eyes are a glittery pink. and she looks like she’s the same age as drew. there hadn’t been any summer campers her age last year in cabin ten.

“yeah,” drew says. she doesn’t say anything else. the new girl doesn’t seem to mind.

“i’m silena beauregard,” she says smiling. “we’re sisters i guess. it’s nice to meet you, i don’t have any siblings outside of camp.”

drew eyes her carefully. and then she walks over to silena’s bunk and climbs up the ladder. she reaches out and shakes silena’s hands and carefully examines silena’s nail polish, now that she’s up close. “me neither,” drew says. “i like your nail polish.”

silena’s smile gets even bigger and her back straightens up, “i brought it with me! can i do your nails?”

drew shrugs, but she’s smiling too, “sure.”

drew walks over to silena’s bunk and lifts her hand to brush against the wooden rail that kept silena from rolling off onto the ground for years.

“drew!” piper’s voice calls. drew turns over to see piper holding the papers up. all of drew’s siblings are back at the cabin now drew drops her hand from the rail. “you have most of your shifts in the arts and crafts centre, but you also have a few in the strawberry fields. cool? cool. okay mitch you’re-”

“strawberry fields?” lacy asks, popping her head out of the bathroom to eye drew carefully. “piper are you sure about that one? drew doesn’t work in the strawberry fields.”

cam coughs awkwardly, “she did. once. with katie gardner.”

“uh,” piper says. “okay, well it says here you have your first shift with katie so i guess it’ll be fine. it’s thursday at two by the way, so you have a few days to fight chiron or whoever on it. um, anyways, mitch you’re on lifeguard duty during canoe lessons - that’s pretty cool mitch, i didn’t know you were a lifeguard.”

her first shift is with katie gardner. she knew that already of course. she had just hoped she read it wrong. drew decides to ignore it until it’s thursday.

on tuesday, her friends decided to crash her arts and crafts lesson. she has the nike and nemesis cabins so it’s really just turned into a race. drew maybe made it worse when she said whoever had the best earrings would win a prize. drew hasn’t decided what the prize is yet. butch starts making a pair next to her while lou ellen sabotages the kids she thinks are doing too well. malcolm asks her how she’s doing.

“i’m fine,” drew says. “i’m scheduled for the strawberry fields with katie gardner on thursday.”

malcolm hums at that, “you know, when i was trying to get connor to ask me out last week - shh i know he’s in love with your brother shut up - anyways he told me his brother and katie are over.”

drew doesn’t say anything to that. she just reaches over and straightens the wire on butch’s earrings he grins at her and bumps into her shoulder and she shoves him back into his seat. it’s been a while since her sister was the only one who knew she liked girls.

“anyways,” malcolm says. “is your brother going to ask connor out or not? connor’s so mopey over travis being gone, mitch will have to make the first move.”

drew rolls her eyes, “i don’t pay attention to my siblings love lives. anyways, i’m thinking about not coming back next summer.”

butch blinks at her, “what?” then he throws a piece of clay at lou ellen to get her to pay attention. “lou ellen, drew says she’s not coming back next summer.”

lou ellen mirrors butch’s blink. “drew, what the fuck?”

“well,” drew says, playing with the clay in front of her as she avoids her friends eyes. “one of my older siblings is getting me an agent, but she told me they film mostly during the summer. and it would be my last summer anyways.”

“an agent?” lou ellen says, her voice quieter. “that’s a big deal.”

“i know,” drew says. malcolm looks like he’s about to tell her why an agent is stupid and not coming back to camp is stupid and why she should just listen to the athena kid, when a tiny daughter of nemesis drops a perfectly made pair of clay earrings in the shap of bloody knives in front of drew.

“well,” she says standing up. “we have a winner!” the rest of the kids start shouting, but drew just holds up the earrings and they quiet down. no one really wants to fight with a child of nemesis who won fair and square (more or less, considering lou ellen’s interference) with knife shaped jewelry.

when drew sits back down the kid has her arms crossed and a glint in her eyes, “i want my prize.”

drew shrugs, “what do you want that i can give?”

the kid lights up. “i want an aphrodite makeover.”

“well,” drew says, beaming next to her friends who have started to crack up, “i cant happily arrange that.”

her friends have to filter out after that, but butch catches drew’s arm as he leaves and he looks her in the eye, “we’re still your friends, even if you don’t come back next summer. you know that, right?”

drew rolls her eyes at him, but it’s fond. “yes i know, you’ll get dibs on my autographs and everything.” butch smiles at her as he leaves and he dangles his new earrings in her face as malcolm doubles back to pull him to their next activity.

after that, drew manages to push the thought of her upcoming unavoidable time with katie to the back of her mind.

when the day finally comes, she pulls cam and julian over to her stuff in the closet after they get their hours and she makes them pick between her altered camp shirts for her. there’s the one she ripped the sleeves off of, the one she cropped, the one she made into an off the shoulder, the one she fringed the edges of, and the one she dyed and embroidered a heart onto.

cam sighs at her as she fusses, “what are you trying to do here? drew you know she had that thing with travis for like, ever.” julian elbows cam for that and tells drew to go with the cropped one. drew smiles at him, only mostly fake and then she turns to cam.

“why would i care that katie was making out with travis for the past two summers?” drew asks, her words sugary, her charmspeak slipping out gently.

“because you’re still kinda into her,” cam says. julian elbows cam harder this time. drew blinks at them both and the two of them shrug at her.

“well,” julian says. “cam didn’t have to be a dick, but yeah. we know you used to like her. you wouldn’t spend so much time in a field for anyone.”

“oh,” drew says. drew had thought this whole time that silena was the only one of her siblings who knew she liked girls. julian seems to realize what she’s thinking, because he slings an arm around her shoulder and squeezes as he directs her towards the bathroom so she can do her makeup. cam trails behind them, but is quiet enough so drew doesn’t say anything.

“now i don’t know if you actually want to win her over or whatever, but i do that eyeliner thing for you that i did when i got cecil to ask me out,” julian smiles at her as the two of them stare at the bathroom mirror and drew smiles back, sharper and small, but she smiles back. she’d heard rumours from lou ellen about him and cecil but she’d never asked.

drew looks at the carefully colour coded makeup products displayed in the bathroom year round and picks out her favourite pink pencil, “i don’t know if i want to win her over. but i want her to see me at my best.”

julian squeezes her shoulders and turns her around and does her eyeliner perfectly. when he’s finished cam passes her her strawberry shaped earrings and drew smiles at them both, softer than she normally does when they can see.

and then drew walks over to the strawberry fields for the first time since before the war. her pink eyeliner is perfect and her camp shirt is cropped to wear her high waisted denim shorts reach and her strawberry shaped earrings swing in the air. katie is at the edge of the bushes holding two wicker baskets in her arms. she’s wearing a flower crown in her hair and drew’s breath totally doesn’t catch.

she takes her basket from katie and they start walking through the bushes. they aren’t the only two in the fields, but they seem to be the only demigods. the others are nymphs and satyrs. drew reaches for a malformed strawberry. when she touches it it shimmers lightly, she plucks it and pulls it up to her eye. it’s in the shape of a heart.

drew swallows and puts it in her basket and turns to look at katie. katie’s busy plucking strawberries. drew blinks and turns back to the bushes, she must’ve been seeing things. except, it keeps happening. drew almost confronts katie, and then she realizes that she’s just going to stop getting the heart shaped strawberries if she says anything. it’s probably just their godly inclinations getting confused.

after the eleventh heart shaped strawberry they start to get bigger. when drew picks a heart shaped strawberry the size of her hand she stops brushing it off and she puts down her basket.

“katie gardner, what the fuck is this?”

katie stands up slowly and puts her basket down on the ground. “well,” katie says. “um.”

drew shoves the strawberry at katie and katie plucks it out of drew’s hands, “wait! wait, wait um.”

“are you trying to make fun of me? this isn’t funny katie gardner.” drew’s face is flushed and her fingers have curled into fists. she could put up with spending time with the girl she was halfway in love with once, but she’s not going to put up with her mocking her.

“no!” katie says, and katie’s face is so open and sorry that drew even believes her a bit. drew lets her hands relax by her side and she gestures at katie to keep talking. “well,” katie says. “i heard you were thinking about not coming back next summer.”

drew raises an eyebrow at her, “and?” she doesn’t know where katie’s heard that from, but she’s suspecting some convoluted train of malcolm and lou ellen and cecil and connor.

“okay, um. okay. we’ve. well we’ve known each other forever, since we were little, and at first i thought i was just upset because if you were thinking about leaving it meant our time was running out. and then i started thinking about our time running out and - and i remember what you said back a few months ago before the titan war,” katie takes a deep breath and drew sees she’s fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist. and. drew recognizes it. she has a matching one underneath her bunk pillow from their first summer at camp together that katie and her made for each other. katie clears her throat and continues, “and at the time - at the time i was dumb. i didn’t even know if i liked girls but i thought if i liked any girl i would like you, but i was so worried about the war and one of my little brothers had just gone to the other side and i didn’t want to lose anyone too close. and then i thought you might ask again after the war, but you didn’t.”

“i thought you didn’t like me at all,” drew says, quieter than she means to.

katie laughs a little, but it wavers and drew freezes as she realizes katie has started to cry a bit, “that makes perfect sense. ha. but, i didn’t know because i was dumb. and then travis was being sweet to me all day and he asked to kiss me and i saw yes because i just really wanted to be held. and everything with travis was so good, and i’m not sorry about it really, because i liked him a lot and i don’t regret being with him but. but we broke up when he went to university and i’m going in september, so we both knew it was coming to an end. but, but i never saw you anymore. and i’d missed you so much in the time between the summer when we were little and the months before the war and then you were gone again and. and then i heard you were leaving and i knew i had to do something and i saw you today with your perfect eyeliner and your really cute earrings and-”

katie cuts herself off, blushing and crying a bit and drew reaches out. she’s not used to reaching out and she’s not sure she can be as soft as she needs to be, but she catches one of katies hands and squeezes it. “yeah?” drew asks.

“and. and i saw you in that crop top and i wanted to scream a bit,” katie admits. “i really, really like you drew. and i know you probably don’t like me back, but i had to try-”

“wait,” drew says. “of course i like you back.” because of course she does. katie broke her heart, but drew would rather katie break her heart than let anyone else close to touching it in the same way. katie with her heart shaped strawberry plan and beautiful brown eyes and soft sweet smiles.

“oh,” katie says. “really? because you’re drew tanaka and you’re kinda the most beautiful girl ever. and you were the best friend i used to dream of when i was a kid that summer.”

drew links her fingers with katie’s and steps close, “your nail polish is still chipped.”

“sorry?” katie says, a little confused.

“nothing, ignore that,” drew bites her lip and tastes strawberry. “katie, will you go out with me?”

and then katie smiles the soft smile she’s had since they were little that drew’s been in love with for years and nods, “yeah. i’d like that a lot.”

“cool,” drew says. and she smiles back with the smile she’s only let katie have. katie steps closer to her, and with her free hand she presses her thumb up against drew’s mouth. drew hopes that katie can’t hear her heartbeat race, and then katie meets her eyes right on.

“drew,” katie asks. “can i kiss you?”

drew answers by taking katie’s other hand and leaning in. their lips meet, and drew tries to memorize the softness of katie’s lips against hers.

when they seperate katie giggles, “i always thought your lips would taste like strawberries. guess i was right.”

later, drew and katie will talk about their plans and the schools and programs they’re planning for and they’ll get to know each others friends and each others siblings. katie’s lips will taste like strawberries because she’ll steal drew’s lipgloss and they’ll make out in all the spots they frequented as kids.

now, drew laughs with katie and kisses her again, and again and again until all she can taste is strawberries. the war is long gone, and their future is starting.

#pjofemslashweek2020 #dratie #drew tanaka x katie gardner #drew tanaka #katie gardner #PLEASE read this on ao3 its so fucking long #rey's writering #(this was supposed to be like maybe 2k...)

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melancholicvampires · 4 years

Text

Amalia backstory pt. 1

Amalia cleaned the floor of the large main entrance hall for the third time today. At morning it wasn’t clean enough, at the afternoon it wasn’t either and now it didn’t shine enough. All in the high-pitched voice of the madame of the house in her typical demeaning manner. ‚Amalia, bring me a cup of my favourite tea‘, ‚Amalia, you forgot the black velvet gloves. How do you forget everything the minute I tell you?‘, ‚Amalia, there’s still dust in the corner of the room'. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto the freshly scrubbed spot, which she cleaned again not without an audible groan. A floor to look at ones own reflection seemed horribly unnecessary to her. The screeching voice echoes through her mind. ‚Amalia, did you even clean the floor? I want it to shine like a mirror'.

Scrubbing was not odd for her. It was what her usual task once a day. Cleaning it three times and letting it shove like a mirror however, were even in the halls of this house exaggerated work. And it was the largest, most expensive and exquisite house of the village and surrounding area.

The exterior walls were painted in the purest white, contrasted by the doors and balcony railings made of dark brown, looking almost black, wood and the wide grey roof. Tall columns in front of the skinny entrance double doors supported the roof and balcony.

Travellers and villagers equally gasped in amazement when they stand in front of the magnificence that is the mansion. What would they give to visit this building and live one day in this embodiment of mortal luxury? Only servants, visitors of high birth or importance and the noble family itself were allowed to enter the house. Although it was large enough to fit the whole village inside and there would still be enough space for visitors and a small orchestra.

Amalia never understood, why the other villagers weren’t allowed to enter the house. Not even for Christmas celebrations or at New Year’s Eve. After all it was them who provided food and money to the nobles.

She asked once the madame of the house, only to receive a cold stare and mumbled reply about how stupid this question was. Amalia didn’t understand what was stupid about it. It must have been a complicated question for she didn’t get a proper explanation.

Personally she would have switched with any of the villagers and travellers. The white friendly exterior always seemed like a liar to her. The many tall windows wouldn’t suppress the soulless darkness inside the house. And that all surrounding loneliness.

The staff was in the house everyday, yet it was quiet. The silence was only disturbed by fleeting footsteps and low voices. No one was allowed to raise their voice and make loud noise. Communication was only granted through whispering. The monsieur of the house suffered from a terrible migraine. No doctor could help him. They suspected crooked bone structures or that he hit his head once and simply didn’t remember. However they never took his mental state in consideration. Amalia was sure the solution must lie there. She snuck out to the library in the dead of night one day. She couldn’t hold her curiousity any longer, even her fear of punishment vanished. One book in particular struck her interest. The writer suggested chronic headaches might be a result from stress. But what could stress him out? He doesn’t work, nor has many visitors to worry about. Perhaps he is scared of something?

Amalia wrung out the cleaning cloth. She'd much rather read some about this topic than scrub the floor.

„Stupid floor", she grumbled, „the floor is already clean, why should it shine even more then?“.

She threw the wet cloth on the floor. A small puddle spread around it, like it would mock the young servant for not following her orders. The look on her masters faces and their outraged gasps upon a cloth and bucket with dirty water right in the middle of the main entrance, she'd have enjoyed. Picturing the scene, made her giggle.

„May you share what is so funny?“, a young voice asked.

„Odile, uhm, mademoiselle“. Amalia stood up, her stiff legs thankful for no longer kneeling on the hard ground. However the comforting feeling didn’t last long. A dump noise echoed through the entrance hall and the apologizing expression of the Odile told her the tale. As she glanced at the now dirty puddle on the floor, her suspicions were confirmed.

„Cursed bucket“, Amalia said, forgetting who was also in the room. „Pardon my language! And the mishap! I will clean up in an instant. You won’t even notice this accident happened“, she stumbles over the words and kneeled down in a desperate attempt to clean up the mess and hide her red face.

She always liked Odile. Although she was a bit stiff and very devoted to etiquette. She'd never ignore a duty and carry it out with perfection. She had to. Her parents seem to expect no less than the very best from her. Among those strict demands, her kindness didn’t suffer. She caught Amalia with a book about ancient medicine from the library, admiring Amalia's dedication and since then brings book to her. It’s a secret between just the two of them.

Odile got down next to Amalia and grabbed her hand, stopping her in her quick sloppy scrubbing.

Odile's hands were soft, not having faced tedious and coarse work, but only the delicate arts and crafts, as was fitting for an aristocratic lady. Amalia's hands were the opposite, although she was four years younger. Rough from the daily work and the cleaning of clothes and floors.

„What are you doing there? You need to help me choose a dress and clothe me. And my hair is not done yet“. Odile pulled the confused Amalia on her feet again. „We have an import visitor today and I need to look exceptional. Better than at any of the last visits. I couldn’t look as disheveled as I am now. La madame bought me new dresses. You need to help me decide for they look all magnificent“.

Amalia indicates with her eyes to the mess on the floor. La madame would kill on the sight of the small disaster.

Odile waved it off. „Another servant will handle it. We have more important business to attend to at the moment“. She continued talking as she pulled Amalia up the stairs to her room, turning her head to her. „And we cannot forget about you of course. You need to look decent for the evening. Wear the nice dress today. The one Madame gave you when my dear aunt visited“.

How could she forget? The servants were running around, the madame and monsieur were scolding a poor servant about one forgotten dusty edge of a bookshelf, and Odile wore the prettiest dress Amalia has ever seen, she looked almost like a princess. As Odile's chambermaid Amalia couldn’t wear her trousers with improvised patches and oversized blouse, but a proper dress instead, with ruffles, puffed sleeves, flower embroidery and a wide skirt with a petticoat under it with even more ruffles. As much as Amalia thought the dress was pretty, she would have rather worn her patchy trousers and blouse. But arguing was of no use. The Madame was very keen on giving her sister a honourable welcome, or rather a welcome to show her superiority. If her sister was affected with envy, Amalia didn’t notice. She was graceful and always kind to the servants. Sometimes Amalia wondered if Odile wasn’t the daughter of her and simply got switched at birth or the Madame stole her from the crib, like a bitter hag they tell stories of to scare children.

„Don’t forget to close the door behind you", Odile ordered.

„Of course, Mademoiselle“. Amalia did as she was told and took a second to examine the room with her eyes.

When the rest of the house was clouded in darkness, this room was the hidden sun. Although not much light fell in there either, the cozy atmosphere was what gave warmth like a flickering fireplace in an otherwise dark room. The carpet with elaborate patterns from the far east, a collection of stuffed animals, the pillows of velvet, the padded armchair, in which Amalia slept when Odile was having bad dreams. Nightmares about a dark entity dragging her away from her family. She doesn’t have them anymore. Now Amalia sleeps in there when Odile needs someone to talk with. They would whisper and chuckle under their hands. Those fond delightful memories were only disturbed by the faded family portrait hanging on the wall exactly opposite from the armchair. They looked so serious in it without even a trace of a smile. The painting looked almost ironic with its bright colours. Odile explained it was fashionable to have a serious expression on depictions of oneself. Amalia was of the opinion a family portrait should show how happy everyone is to be together, with smiles and laughter.

The broad bed was surrounded by a transparent baldachin, revealing three dresses trough the light fabric.

„You will look like a princess from a fairy tale in all of them. Everyone will be enchanted by you", Amalia said with a gasp.

One dress was more beautiful than the other. The first dress capturing Amalia‘s glance was a simple black dress with golden embroidery, pronouncing elegance. The embroidery was as shiny as threads made out of gold. The other dress was a red velvet dress with soft and shiny fabric, the red was the colour of a deep wine. But the most beautiful was the dress of a dark blue brocade with an ornamental pattern. It was as blue as the sea at night, adorned by silver stars made of diamonds.

„Do you like the blue gown?“, Odile asked.

She must have caught Amalia staring in awe, although she didn’t try to hide her amazement. She nodded and let her fingers wander over the silky fabric and cold diamonds.

She looked at Odile with a smile. „The fabric feels so comfortable and warm. And the dress is not too long. The others are so long, you might trip".

Odile laughed, making Amalia put a confused look on her face, „You’re always so focused on practicality, little one. Is there nothing you choose to wear according to your taste in aesthetics? I rarely see you in other clothing than those blouses, that are too wide for you, and patched trousers“.

Amalia looked down her clothes, over her blouse, she had to tightly roll the sleeves of up her arm and her already colourful trousers from the patches. „They are comfortable and not so tight as your dresses are. I could barely move my arms or bend my waist last time I had to wear one!“, she protested, „If I have to wear that uncomfortable dress again today, I will pretend to be ill“. Her confident words however couldn’t hide her red face. She knew Odile was only curious and couldn’t understand how someone prefers worn ugly clothes over decadent dresses, but so could Amalia not understand how someone would want to be restricted in their movements simply for a pretty looking piece of clothing.

Odile put her finger up her lips, like she was in thought. „Perhaps we still have a suit that fits you in the servants dressing room. You are quite tall for your age. So your size shouldn’t prove a problem“.

Amalia's face lit up and she threw her hands around Odile. It was like Odile read her mind. „Thank you, thank you, Odile. You are the best!“, she exclaimed with a wide smile on her face, that vanished, like the shining sun being disturbed by a grey cloud. She stepped back with her head low. „Apologize my improper behaviour, Mademoiselle. I shouldn’t have disrespected your boundaries".

‚I am only a servant after all‘, she reminded herself. This household didn‘t tolerate violating the etiquette. No matter how small the offence may have seemed to a commoner's eye, to the a aristocracy every little step one took was of importance.

„But you are not", Odile spoke softly in her gentle voice. „Raise your head. Don’t be ashamed".

Amalia felt Odile's warm hands on hers. As she looked up she saw eyes, expressing calmness.

„Who would I be to take away your joy after giving you reason to be cheerful? Only a tyrant, no, a monstrous person would do such bleak thing“. She tilted her head. „You came into this establishment six years ago and have been my trusted chambermaid since. But you far exceeded that status. You were with me in times of grief and happiness, wept and laughed with me, listened to my dreams and talked to me about yours. You are not merely a servant to me, but a friend".

A friend? Amalia felt how her face became warm and hoped Odile wouldn’t notice her blushing. If she did, she concealed it very well. Honest friendship seemed like an illusion in this place, yet she couldn’t disagree to see Odile as more than the girl she has to dress and give company. But there was one concern.

„Won’t your parents disagree when they know you’re friends with a servant?“, she asked, thinking of their disappointed faces.

„There is something else I meant tell, however it has to wait until dinner“. Her voice returned to the tone of the organized daughter of the family. „You need to help me get dressed remember?".

„Of course!“, Amalia stammered.

She already had her chemise and stockings on under her silk morning coat, as well as black leather pumps with a simple crisscross lacing.

„Don’t forget to fold the coat this time. I don’t want any wrinkles in there", she instructed Amalia, as she took the morning coat off, rolling her eyes. She forgot one time to fold her morning coat and threw it on the sofa. Simply goes faster than folding it.

She loved the feel of the smooth fabric though she would never wear it. Silk seems so delicate and is mostly used for fine clothing. And has to be folded everytime very neatly, which takes time. Time she could use for reading books.

The pieces she had to dress Odile in were already layed out on the sofa, ready to be worn. Sometimes Amalia wondered wether Odile didn’t trust her with choosing the right pieces of clothing or she simply liked choosing and putting them out like this. Amalia may have picked the wrong garments in the wrong order one or two times, but that was a long time ago.

Next were the stays for the bust and fastened them on the back. When she tied the string, she always thought about the different suture patterns for surgery and went them through in her head. Appositional and inverting suture patterns, interrupted and continuous sutures, sutures that are simple and others that provide tension. Unfortunately she wouldn’t find someone to practice with her and her heart was too big to kill a cat. There are quite a number of mice and dead mice in the village, but her fear of mice always stopped her from using them as test subject. When they are dead, they seem worse than alive, she found. She shook herself to get the images out of her head. And picked up the next piece of clothing in line.

Odile raised her arms, so Amalia could put on the linen petticoat. She was much taller than Odile, which was quite practical for dressing her. Sometimes guests thought Amalia was older than Odile. She liked that. It made her feel already grown up, mutual to them.

Next was gown, the beautiful blue brocade gown she chose. She smiled to herself. The embroidery might have looked old fashioned, but it had quite a charm.

Amalia smoothed out the remaining folds. The silver embroidery shimmered on the deep blue fabrics. She almost looked like a goddess of the night sky, glistening with enigmatic elegance.

„You look beautiful!“, Amalia commented with enthusiasm.

Odile turned around to face the mirror and look at her reflection. A small elegant smile appeared on her face and her eyes glistened satisfied. Even though this might not seem like much joy to others, Amalia knew her long enough to recognize in which moments she was happy and this was one of them.

„Now we cannot forget about you, correct?“, Odile said, turning to look at the person in question.

The urge to hug her and scream into her ear came to Amalia again, but this time she stopped herself from it and simply nodded, but couldn’t suppress a snicker.

Odile threw a turquoise shawl around her arms and with a wave of her hand, she signed Amalia to follow her to the chamber where old clothes were kept. Amalia was surprised to find a servant uniform from when she started to work in this estate. The clothes were dusty and gnawed by moths. As she touched the fabric, it was brittle under her touch.

„Why do your parents still keep all that old stuff around and let it rot in here?“, she wondered, thinking of the other servants, complaining to freeze at home, not being able to provide warm woollen clothes for themselves nor their families.

„They say it might be of use in case new servants need to be employed. Providing used clothes, saves cost“.

Looking at the suffered and uncared for fabric, Amalia doubted those old rags would still serve a purpose other than to throw them into the fire.

Odile continued rummaging around in the collection of various servant uniforms.

„There’s one that might fit!“, she exclaimed, holding a black three piece suit.

„Odile!“, a female voice called from downstairs, „Odile, you should have been in the hall five minutes ago!“.

She looked back and forth and pressed the suit to Amalia's chest with a hurry. Amalia looked at her with a frown. She knew Odile had duties to fulfil, yet it saddened her to not have her look how the suit fits in case it wasn’t the correct size.

„I must apologize for not helping you dress, I must take my leave now. Madame requires my presence to instruct me on the etiquette for our guest". She put her hands on Amalia's shoulders and made a last apologizing smile, when the high pitched call sounded up to their floor again at which she took her leave with quick steps and with both hands slightly pulling up her dress.

Although in haste, she still appeared elegant, Amalia thought.

Staring in a mixture of being lost and joyous at the folded suit in her hands, clutched to her chest. The first time she'd dress someone in a suit and this someone was her, let her heart beat faster and her cheeks became red. But she had to hurry. The impatience in Madame’s voice and darkening sky indicated the evening and with it the guest was soon to arrive.

She stepped out of the musky chamber, turning her head left to right, considering the best options. Changing clothes in her room was the obvious choice, but she'd lose valuable time. Odile’s room was the closest, but if someone would notice she'd been in there, it would assure her the displeased insults of the Madame. She couldn’t be late to the reception however. As close servant of the Mademoiselle of the house, it would be an embarrassment, a disgrace even. As much as she regarded the aristocratic etiquette as unnecessarily strict and more than less helpful in being truthful, she knew how angry Madame would be at her. A few demeaning insults would be the least of her worries in such a case.

„Screw it", she whispered to herself. A displeased Madame, who insulted her was nothing new to her. And she was quick.

She went into the room, throwing the suit on the couch in the middle of the room. While pulling her worn out shirt up, she closed the door with her body leaning against it. Soon her clothes followed their way on the couch as well, as she threw them on there without wasting a second thought, whether they would make the soft clean cushions dirty or not, didn’t matter to her for the moment.

She put the pieces on, one after another, feeling the smooth comfortable fabric against her skin. It was so different than the rough and patchy fabric or tight dress she was used too.

Closing the last button of the black waistcoat, she looked up into the mirror and a wide smile appeared on her face. She turned around to look at herself from all sides, testing how well she could move in the new clothes. With content she found it appropriate. It was almost like the suit was made just for her. She couldn’t clean in it obviously, but wear it to every festive occasion from now on, she determined, forgetting about the strict etiquette of the house for the moment.

She stayed there for a few minutes more, admiring herself in the mirror. To her it felt like no time had passed, as she was busy, catching every aspect of how she looked in her new found favourite clothes. She couldn’t wait showing herself to Odile. She'd surely be happy too.

„Odile!“, she quavered louder than she intended.

With widened eyes she looked on the clock on the wall. She had only one minute left until the guest arrived!

#it is very much a draft and there are some imperfections #but here is part 1 #and a little different and more difficult to write. at least pt. 2 for reasons. than what I ususually write #Amalia #backstory #draft

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flowerspecial · 5 years

Text

I.M falls in love with another artist

Being brand new into this industry, you didn't really know what to expect. You had never expected for your career to blow up like this. Your mother had pushed you to send a video of you singing to a local record company. And here you were. One of the hottest new artists of the year. You had to relocate to America, so you felt somewhat lonely. Uprooting your life is never easy, and adding the enormous gamble of whether you will actually make it or not. Your heart had been on edge for a while now.

Your manager had booked you into what seemed like hundreds of interviews and talk shows. Your promotion was huge. Your manager had put a lot of money and time into making you a known name in every household. Every interviewer had told you that you were a breath of fresh air coming into this industry. Your voice was deep and strong, it resonated through any arena that you performed in. It's almost as if your voice was that bridge between musical theatre, and jazz. You had this Aretha Franklin vibe going on, and it was greatly received by the public.

Normally at the end of an interview, you are requested to sing a song for the audience. It's a great way for people to get that little taste of who you are as a performer. Your most recent interview was with none other James Corden. James Corden was your favourite talk show host, so you wanted to make this interview better than the others. As the interview proceeded, James began to ask you rather basic questions, such as, how did you get discovered, what's it like living in America etc. But James being James, he’s always going to throw in a cheeky question here and there. That’s just in his nature.

“So, is there anyone on the scene?” James asked you, smirking.

“I’m afraid not.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders slightly to the camera. “I’m not that lucky in love I’m afraid.”

“But you write songs about heartbreak, so surely there must be something there?” He said quizzically.

“I mean I’ve watched my friends experience heartbreak. And I’ve seen enough heartbreaks on tv to know the essence of one. You don’t have to have direct experience with the thing you are writing about it. It's all about embellishment.” You’ve rehearsed this answer so many times, it reels off like an automated response. James did have a fair point. You do tend to write songs that are more melancholic, but that's just because those types of songs show off your vocals the best. Also, you’ve always had quite the sad, dramatic heart. So you found writing lyrics that are more on the sad side much easier than writing about sunshine and rainbows.

“Is there anyone in the industry that you would like to collaborate with?” James asked.

“I mean it's still early days for me. So honestly if anyone reached out, I’d probably say yes. But I would love to work with a K-pop group. They are all dominating right now so it would be cool to see their process to creating music.”

“So BTS?” James said, which elicited a deafening roar of applause and cheers from the audience.

“BTS are a definite. But also groups like NCT or Monsta X. I love Monsta X, so that collab would be a dream come true.” You spoke like a true fan girl, clutching your chest when you mentioned Monsta X. You had been following the group since they debuted, and so if there was any chance in the world that you could do a collaboration with them, you were down.

At the end of the interview, you began to prepare yourself for your performance. When you are on stage, you tend to stand off to the side. This is because you love having dancers be the focal point. You have always said that dancing accentuates the points that the singer tries to get across with the lyrics. You also preferred your lighting to be quite dark. The darkness matched with the soulfulness of your voice, which helped transport the audience into this almost eerie but nonetheless beautiful place that you tried to emulate.

The following day, you woke up to a frenzy of notifications buzzing on your phone. The light dazzled you slightly, but you saw that all of your friends were telling you to get onto twitter pronto. On twitter you saw that your name was trending, but it wasn't just your name. It was your name and Monsta X that was trending. Confused, you click on the hashtag and began scrolling through to see what everyone is going on about.

Your eyes practically doubled in size when you saw that you had been mentioned on Monsta X’s official Twitter page. You dropped the phone in astonishment. Your heart was beginning to race as you could possibly think what they had said. Maybe it was to say thank you for mentioning them? Or maybe it was to say that they hated you and wanted nothing to do with you? Okay, so you realise that maybe you were beginning to run away with yourself. So you picked up the phone to read the message:

We love you too! We would love to work with you sometime! Message us - Changkyun

Was this real? You thought to yourself. Was this actually real life? Did the real Changkyun from Monsta X genuinely just tell you that he is down to work with you? You honestly didn't know how to process this information. So you just sat upright on your bed staring blankly at your phone. What was the protocol here? Should you actually message them? Or were they just being nice for the sake of their image? You was conflicted about your next move but thankfully that decision was taken out of your hands as a notification had popped up that you had a message.

We are working in the same studios that you work in. If you are free at all today, maybe you could come down and we could talk about the collaboration? - Changkyun

You smiled at yourself and thought it was cute that Changkyun was the one who messaged you and mentioned you on twitter. But maybe that was just because he was one of the strongest in English. You didn't want to make a mountain out of a molehill.

After reading the message you sprang off your bed and began to rush around your house. You needed to have a shower, brush your teeth, have breakfast, get dressed, the list was endless. And you know that phenomena that when you are in a rush, everything goes wrong and things keep slowing you down? Well, that was indeed happening to you. It took you ages to finally get out of the house, but thankfully the studios were only a short drive away.

Walking into the studios, you felt nervous in a way. People always say that you should never meet your idols. What happens if they are actually all horrible people? Or maybe this is just one big joke to humiliate you. You pushed the door of your studio slightly, and you sighed in relief as you saw Changkyun sat in there.

“Hey, it's nice to meet you.” You bowed slightly trying to show your respect. But you felt a tad awkward, so you also put your hand out for him to shake. He laughed at your cute little introduction but took your hand anyway.

“Likewise. Your performance last night was amazing. I was stunned.” Changkyun said smoothly. You cursed yourself inwardly as you began to feel a bit hot under his gaze.

Trying to look anywhere, except at Changkyun, you looked across the room. But something didn't seem quite right. “Wait, where is everyone else?” You hadn't noticed it when you first walked in, but now you had realised that Changkyun was alone.

“Oh, the others have something right now but they are coming later!” He sensed your body shift slightly. “Is that okay? If not we can just wait for them to come! I just thought that you and I could get started now. Besides, the other boys don’t really speak English that well so it would be me doing all the talking anyway.”

“Yeah it's fine with me! It just seems strange with only one of you being here. I’m used to seeing all of you together.” You giggled slightly at the end. You took a seat on a chair near the recording deck and patted the seat next to you for Changkyun to sit in. “Now, is there anything you definitely do or definitely don’t want out of this collab?”

“I would like to do something that shows off your voice. You have the best voice I have ever heard. It's so soothing yet powerful. It's like nothing I’ve ever heard before.” As Changkyun confessed, his eyes captured yours and he held them hostage. You was flattered by his sweet words. Due to your rather sudden success, you had grown accustomed to compliments. Many of which you could tell were not said sincerely. But you felt touched by Changkyun’s comments. You could tell that he was speaking from his heart.

“Thank you so much, I’m flattered. I’ve been a huge fan of yours since you debuted. I am honestly shocked that I even get to be in the same room as you!” You replied, prying your eyes away from his. What you didn't notice, as you had looked away, was the faintest of smiles that danced on Changkyun’s lips. He studied the features of your face as if he was about to take an exam in them. He could stare at you all day, and one day he intended on doing just that. But for now, he remembered why you two were here in the first place.

“So I’m thinking, to go with your aesthetic. We could a slow song but with a good beat in the background. That way me and Joohoney could rap. We could even get the other boys to harmonise with you!” His eagerness to appease you was charming.

“I like it. But I don’t actually mind doing something a bit more uptempo. My manager did say it would be good to have at least one song that is different from the rest. That way I can test the waters, you know?”

The afternoon continued as you bounced ideas between each other. In the end you had settled on a fast-ish paced song. Something that really hits hard. We are talking Shoot Out times a thousand. Lyrics was something you always found quite easy to come up with. And working with Changkyun made it even easier, if that was even possible. You seemed to constantly be thinking on the same wavelength. You threw lyrics out left right and centre and Changkyun just had this undeniable talent for making them all connect. As you worked, you sat very close to each other, your shoulders touching. Changkyun would forever be leaning into your personal space to read what you have written. Not that you minded of course.

Changkyun suggested that you should go into the booth and have a mess around with some of the vocals that you might like to feature. That way he could really get a feel for who you are as an artist. Messing around, he told you to go full on Christina Aguilera. And you did just that. The songs that you produce don’t necessarily require that type of singing. You need to be strong in your voice, but you don’t really need to do a lot of runs or belting out. So it's nice to actually see if your voice is capable. Changkyun was truly mesmerised by your talent. He'd only suggested singing like that as a joke, and yet here you were making a joke out of him. You shocked him every way possible, and he loved it. You took your headphones off for a second, just to get a drink.

“We are definitely using that in the song!” He exclaimed, using his hands to show his undeniable excitement.

“Are you sure? I don’t think it sounds that good.”

“You are joking right?” Changkyun stands up and places a hand on each shoulder. “You know I’m just saying this because you are stood in front of me. I truly think you are the best singer I have ever heard! You make everything seem effortless and I could listen to you for hours. You need to show the world that you can sing like that!”

“I guess I could do it once. Just to try it.” Before you or him registered what he was doing. Changkyun embraced you in tight arms and lifted you off the group slightly. He thought you were the most endearing person he had ever met.

“Well excuse me, looks like we are interrupting something.” A voice said. You jumped away from Changkyun in embarrassment. You looked over at who was speaking, and you saw the rest of Monsta X stood before, smirking at you both.

“Oh no, nothing is happening here. We are just working” You quickly spluttered out. You rubbed your arms in comfort and looked at the floor awkwardly.

“Clearly,” Minhyuk began. “Hey Chan, why don’t you hug me like that when we are working?” He asked suggestively.

“Please shut up.” Changkyun mumbled to his older member, clearly mortified with what he was insinuating.

“Okay, okay. Well are you at least going to show us what you have been working on. It seems like Channie here wants you all to yourself.” Minhyuk said.

“I thought you had meetings earlier? That’s why you couldn't get here.” You asked confused.

“Nope. Chan told us this time.” You tried to look at Changkyun but he was looking at the floor with bright red cheeks. “Clearly he didn't want us to ruin the moment.”

Looking at Changkyun, you decided not to press on it further. The boy looked like he would feel this humiliation for days. So instead, you went to the desk and pressed play to show the rest of the boys what you two had been working on. The boys left cheeky comments here and there about Changkyun’s obsession with you. The boys were eager to tell you that he had watched every video and interview that you had ever been on. And they were sure on telling you that when you mentioned on TV that you were a fan, he all but fainted on the spot.

When it was time to leave, the boys filled out of the room quickly, leaving you and Changkyun alone once again.

“I’m really sorry about what they said earlier. It's true, I am a huge fan of yours, when you said you’re a fan of us, I may have screamed a little. So I understand if you think that I am coming on too strong. Or was sneaky for wanting to spend some time with you on my own…” Changkyun rambled on. The best way of shutting him up that you could think of was to place a tender kiss on his cheek. It worked wonders.

“You know, I think it works perfectly that I’m a fan of you and you're a fan of me. It shows we both have excellent taste in music.” You winked at him, causing him to giggle slightly. “But it also means that you will have my best intentions at heart. It means that you will care for me and nurture me when I need it. It means that I think you and I should go on a date sometime.” Changkyun struggled to contain his elation at your comment. He grabbed both of your hands and kissed the back of each. He pulled you in close to his chest, and said softly.

“Well, what about now?”

#monsta x #monsta x imagines #monsta x changkyun

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noxexistant · 5 years

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gamquick; “(but first) let me take a selfie”

fandom; marvel 616, all-new x-factor (2014)

pairing; remy lebeau/pietro maximoff

word count; 1.9k

rating; g

notes; this is my first time writing 616 and my first time posting a fic to tumblr in god knows how long,, please be nice. anyway, this is Dumb and Self-Indulgent, and i love gamquick So Much, and i think about canon insta baddie pietro every single goddamn day of my life

ao3 mirror

———

“Are you taking a selfie?” Remy asks, somewhat incredulously.

Pietro hums an affirmation, short and sharp in such a manner that manages to somehow convey the complex sentiment of, ‘Well, obviously, you imbecile.’

Granted, Pietro does look the kind of way that warrants a selfie. His outfit and general aesthetic choices tend to pendulate between the extremes of ‘godly’ and ‘unspeakable’, but his current outfit is definitely the former. It’s a linen suit in a summery shade of periwinkle - and Remy hates that he not only knows those terms but also managed to string them together, but he manages to soothe the knock to whatever ridiculous attachment to traditional ‘manliness’ he’s still coddling with the observation that his boyfriend looks fucking incredible. The suit is fitted perfectly, tapered to his narrow waist, and Remy waits for the next sound of a camera shutter to lean over and grab Pietro’s ass through the delightfully tight, light fabric of the slim-fit trousers.

He likes to imagine that the camera managed to capture Pietro’s face perfectly, but it’s more than likely that the photo turned into a blurred mess because Pietro is turning to swat at Remy before he’s even really had a chance to appreciate the ass grab, which is very unfortunate, because Pietro’s ass is the best.

“Go and pester someone else,” Pietro snips, landing a fairly solid playful backhand to the apple of Remy’s cheek - only playful in that it doesn’t actually shatter Remy’s whole face - as he pretends to still be invested in his sleek smartphone. “Lorna’s in the other room. Why don’t you go and tell her that her green dress is an adventurous choice? Very capricious of her.”

Despite his stinging cheek, Remy laughs easily and falls into Pietro, arms winding around his waist from behind as he glances down at his phone screen, catching sight of the camera app still open and just a glimpse of the previews of previous selfies.

“Don’ upset the lady,” he admonishes, leaning close to his lover’s ear and looking up to meet his eyes through their reflection in the full-length mirror before them. “‘S’not nice to tease your sister, cheri.”

Unsurprisingly, Pietro rolls his eyes.

“If she didn’t want my teasing, she should’ve at least gone with a better shade. The seafoam dress was nicer, but she insisted it reminded her of one of Father’s outfits. God forbid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man outside of red and purple.”

Remy can’t say he’s all too familiar with Erik Lehnsherr’s wardrobe.

“‘S’this the latest in you guys’ elaborate familial judgement, then?” he asks, “Fashion?”

He raises an eyebrow, going for an unimpressed look, but his face breaks into a smile when Pietro does The Thing - meets Remy’s eyes in the reflection and lets his own become open and warm for just a moment.

“Believe me,” he says airily, “I’ve been judging my father’s fashion choices for as long as I’ve known him.”

Remy tilts his head in consideration, still smiling.

“Must be those bad genetics that influenced that cargo shorts look a couple weeks ago, then.”

His smile widens when Pietro’s expression becomes once again deeply serious, eyes narrowing.

“How many times must I reiterate that not all tan shorts are cargo shorts? The definition of ‘cargo shorts’ comes from the pockets—“

“—Okay, okay, so no extra pockets,” Remy concedes, releasing Pietro’s waist for only a moment to splay his hands in surrender, “But they were ugly. Luna thought so, too.”

Pietro makes a face that Remy struggles not to classify as a pout.

“Luna hasn’t been educated in proper fashion-practicality balance yet.”

“Ah, right, right. An’ that one suit you like t’wear when we go out to fancy joints - the one with no pockets so I have to hold your phone and wallet all night - that’s fashion-practicality balance?”

There’s a twinkle in Pietro’s eyes as he meets Remy’s gaze again, despite the flatness of his tone.

“You’re fashion-practicality balance.”

The gasp Remy lets out is wounded, apparently convincing enough - despite his huge, stupid grin - that Lucifer comes trotting over to investigate.

“I’m a glorified seasonal accessory,” he weeps. Despite the fact that they’ve spent several seasons together. Many, in fact. And Remy apparently hasn’t gone out of fashion.

Unfortunately, Pietro is too busy giving Lucifer and an approaching Figaro stern looks to respond, shifting his feet as they get closer to nuzzle around his shins. “I swear, if either of you get your claws anywhere near this suit—“

“—They won’t. An’ if they do, ‘s’only ‘cause they love you.”

“I don’t care. They’re menaces. Where’s Oliver?”

“Still asleep on your side of the bed, if I had to guess. ‘S’his favourite place. ‘Cause he loves you. Same as me. You’re their stepdad. Step-cat-dad.”

“How many times must I tell you to stop calling them your children?”

“They’re my babies.”

The sigh Pietro lets out is long-suffering and entirely affectionate. It makes Remy want to smile so hard his face really does shatter, especially as Pietro’s face once again softens as Figaro looks up at him and meows sweetly.

“I love you, y’know?” Remy says, letting his jaw rest against Pietro’s shoulder to speak right against the rapid pulse in his neck. It’s for the intimacy, yes, but it’s also mostly just so he can feel the shudder that runs through his love.

“You may have mentioned it in passing,” Pietro says, the same unimpressed tone, but it stings just a little in the way that it always does, because he doesn’t know. Remy could say it a thousand times over, in English and French and every language that Pietro has expressed similar sentiments in and then taken the time to patiently teach Remy to echo the pronunciation. He never manages to make the words sound quite as pretty as Pietro does, but Pietro always smiles at him when he gets the words right, smiles like they really mean everything, even though he can never quite believe them.

“God. I love you so much. Mon trésor. Mon colibri. Mon bibou.”

That last one, as he knew it would, earns him something that’s almost a laugh, a dusting of pink appearing across the apples of Pietro’s cheeks.

“Stop getting sappy,” he says. “If you adore me, then maybe you’ll brush your hair and finally get a shirt on. We do have places to be.”

“Only place I have any interes’ in bein’ is by your side.”

Pietro retches, but Remy manages to see how he smiles even as he laughs against Pietro’s neck, arms looping tighter around his waist to hold him close.

“If you were anyone else, that woulda worked,” he says, as put-out as he can pretend to be. “You got your standards all backwards, mon ami.”

“Clearly. I should’ve gone for a man who knows how to dress himself in a timely manner.”

“Now, I know we got real different definition of what ‘timely’ means.”

“Right now, I’d say it means that the task should be completed at some point before we’re expected to arrive.”

Remy shrugs easily. “Never heard’a bein’ fashionably late, cheri? An’ who are you to talk? You’ve been admirin’ yourself in the mirror for the whole time I was in the bathroom.”

“Failing to give yourself a decent shave.”

“I like havin’ stubble!”

Pietro levels him with another unimpressed look, but it once again softens as he reaches backwards to trace his thumb across Remy’s jaw. Remy smiles and leans forward just enough to kiss his fingertips, just a gentle peck against each one while he appreciates that Pietro’s staying still for once, until Pietro’s holding his jaw again and turning half around in his arms, enough to finally press their lips together. It’s slow and soft, washed warm by the midday sunlight from the bedroom windows, and Remy treasures it for as long as he dares before he peeks his eyes open a little to look at their reflection, make sure he clicks the volume off and gets the angle right.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, when they finally pull back just an inch. “That one looks the best.”

Pietro looks up at him, brows creased in confusion, until Remy holds up the phone he’d easily taken straight from his lover’s hands minutes ago. Pietro scowls, snatching it back in a blur, but whatever ire he holds is immediately forgotten in the face of the photograph on the screen - the two of them, pressed close and kissing, Pietro’s hand against Remy’s neck and one of Remy’s holding Pietro’s waist while the other holds up the phone. It’s not got the best composition - Remy isn’t exactly well-practiced when it comes to taking selfies whilst fully distracted by kissing his boyfriend, but the warm glow of sunlight across them, Pietro’s pretty outfit and artfully messy hair contrasted with Remy’s sleep-rumpled form dressed in nothing but a pair of ugly pyjamas trousers, gives the whole photo a vibe that he treasures. It’s them, solid proof that this is something real, and, judging by that soft look in Pietro’s blue eyes again, he agrees.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, then mumbles something in a language Remy doesn’t recognise at a speed he could never hope to even comprehend - Pietro’s regular speed. By now, though, Remy’s gotten used to that being Pietro’s equivalent of an ‘I love you’ or something similar, and it makes him grin like an idiot, leaning forwards to press a kiss to that sensitive spot beneath Pietro’s ear.

“Only with you, cheri,” he says, directing a wink at Pietro in the mirror and enjoying the eye roll he gets in response. “Hey, don’ be rude. Just got you our future holiday card photo, didn’t I? Your sisters are gonna love it.”

“I suppose Lorna’s already seen you in most states of undress, but I’d rather not share the sight with Wanda.”

Remy chuckles, hooking his chin over Pietro’s shoulder. “‘S’pose you were takin’ the photos for her anyway, huh?”

“For Wanda?” Pietro asks, then shakes his head casually. “No. They were for my Instagram.”

…“Your what?”

Lorna comes in to chew them out for being late before Remy can get an explanation. He gets dressed about as fast as he ever has whilst Pietro makes entirely unhelpful comments and enjoys his misery, but then his boyfriend brushes his hair and picks a cologne out for him, all intimate and domestic even if it’s made slightly less picturesque by Lorna’s growing frustration.

They all spend the day beneath the warm sun, drinking expensive alcohol and drifting from gazebo to gazebo across a perfectly-kept lawn as they schmooze and chat and act all casually heroic, and Remy almost entirely forgets about the whole Instagram thing.

At least until they’re home and he and Pietro are curled up in bed together, and Pietro drops his phone on Remy’s chest.

Remy picks it up to see Instagram open on a post on what must be Pietro’s account - a collection of photos taken over the course of the day, candid photos of the team and a couple of Pietro’s selfies and, finally, last in the set, the picture of the two of them. There’s no caption, but there are—

“How many likes?!”

#gamquick #quickbit #pietro maximoff #remy lebeau #all new x factor #my fics #i don’t think we’re ever told whether pietro succeeds in his quest to become an instagram star but i think we all know he did #the internet loves arrogant pretty boys with unnatural hair colours and lean muscle #also is this dumb? yes. is my characterisation off? unquestionably. but we’re all just here to have fun and this was very fun to write

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47mel47 · 6 years

Text

47mel47 Fanvid Masterlist: Kurt and Blaine

Thanks to @jackabelle73 for suggesting this little project.

These range from my most recent work (which is not all that recent) to my earliest works (and these are actually links to YouTube, not links to Tumblr posts, which goes to show how old. And they are also cringe, but hey, let’s celebrate what we've created, right?)

Glee| The Final Countdown: Top Five Kisses

I really felt this video needed some editing. Here are my improvements and suggestions.

Fearlessly and Forever (Kurt and Blaine)

From beginning to proposal. Their hands were meant to hold each other…

This Old Coffee Shop (Kurt and Blaine)

Their story, through coffee.

Five Times (Kurt and Blaine)

Love, music, hurt, laughter and life

I’ll See You In The Future (Kurt and Blaine)

To have and to hold from this day forward… and from these moments we know our favourite boys will- fearlessly and forever.

With No Regrets (Kurt and Blaine)

Getting to celebrate the wedding of two incredible people is magical. Celebrating the years leading up to the union? Even better.

Marry Your Best Friend (Kurt and Blaine)

Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with.

You Look So Good (Kurt Hummel)

Created for spaceorphan18 as part of her birthday shenanigans. Yes, I know that you appreciate Kurt for much more than this aesthetic value, but let’s face it, that aesthetic value is pretty damn awesome.

I Wear Your Grandad’s Clothes (Blaine Anderson)

And he looks incredible.

I Will Find Any Way (Kurt and Blaine)

Season six has really hurt with our two boys, but it has been oh so good.

We Light Up the World (Kurt and Blaine)

A celebration of those days that were early Klaine. Inspired by @todaydreambelievers Weekly Challenge: Original Song

Captured Your Heart (Kurt and Blaine)

Just a little vid reliving and celebrating seasons two to five with our favourite boys

But We’re Still Standing Tall (Kurt and Blaine)

Created for the Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 58: Favourite ship

Anywhere You Take Me (Kurt and Blaine)

Created for Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 150: Most romantic moment

Give My All To You (Kurt and Blaine)

We all know what Blaine was thinking during ‘All Of Me’- I just wanted to try and show it.

Crowd Me With Love (Kurt Hummel){created for Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 24: Favourite Season 4 Male Solo}

This performance was perfection. Chris Colfer and Kurt Hummel at their truly magnificent best. And while I have nothing to fault from the actual performance, I thought that the audience shots could use some tweaking.

After all, you cannot tell me that he did not cross his mind at least once during this song.

This Feels Like Falling In Love (Kurt and Blaine)

Created for Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 101: Favourite kiss

Throw Your Arms Around Me (Kurt and Blaine)

Created for Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 100: Favourite hug

All You Need (Kurt and Blaine)

Created for Glee Hiatus Challenge Day 74: Happiest moment

“So Kurt Hummel, my amazing friend, my one true love…will you marry me?”

“Yeah…yeah.”

Rhymed With My Body (Kurt and Blaine)

Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets… and sometimes it’s more.

Then and Now (Kurt and Blaine)

Befores and afters, highs and lows, comparison and contrast …” I wanna grow old with you”…

Miles From Where You Are (Kurt and Blaine)

No great love ever came without great struggle. No distance could ever completely come between these two.

I Am Not My Own (Kurt and Blaine)

An old video of mine that I never uploaded to YouTube, but given that it has been 3 years since ‘Original Song’, I thought I should celebrate.

Just Like When Harry Met Sally (Kurt and Blaine)

“It’s not easy putting your heart on the line, and baring your soul to someone you care about.” (Unknown)

You’re Still My Best Friend (Kurt and Blaine)

The phone call that told us everything was going to be ok. The point at which we moved from the dark to the light. The moment in which we knew we’d see them together again…soon.

A Moment of Affection (Kurt and Blaine)

“I wanna go to your house…”

The Light The Heat (Kurt and Blaine)

The way these two look at each other is so damn beautiful- I love that they can say so much, without a single word.

For Another Day (Kurt and Blaine)

There is hope for our boys. It has been dark and angsty and downright horrible, but now we are at the point where, I believe, we can just enjoy the ride these two are going to take on their journey back to each other.

We Could Have Had It All (Kurt and Blaine)

Let’s just call this…part of my catharsis? I just had to get this out. Focusing on eps 3x03 and 3x04.

You Were My Original (Kurt and Blaine)

This much history, this many memories- there is no way any of it can be forgotten or swept aside. They are endgame. That is all.

Where My Demons Hide (Blaine Anderson)

To me, there are so many things that have been left undeveloped with Blaine. We were introduced to this strong and confident characters, and then little by little we were hit with these tiny clues. The unsupportive father, victim of a hate crime etc. And then, of course, there was what went down in ‘The Break Up’. There is a darker side to this character, he has his demons, and I can only hope that in the aftermath of the last episode, we get to explore and understand this character a lot more.

You’re Like A Party (Kurt and Blaine)

Happy, sweet and beautiful moments- it is what we all need at the moment…

Such A Long Way To Go {2x06} (Kurt and Blaine)

So, with all the feels that we are certainly experiencing at the moment, I wanted to take it back and remember when it all began. *Sigh*…

You Made Me Believe (Kurt and Blaine)

So, after seeing the latest episode (Makeover), and the previews for the next, I just needed to focus on some happy memories…

I Will Wait For You (Kurt and Blaine)

Just playing with the whole NYADA, New York storyline…

Throw Me A Line (Kurt Hummel)

A video exploring the early episodes of season two. Our boy really copped it, however, there were moments that I believed shoed that he was not as alone as he might have thought…

I Don’t Know Just Where You Came From (Kurt and Blaine)

These two are born performers- I could watch them sing and dance all day…

Make Me Happy (Kurt and Blaine)

So, many, many rumours are flying about season 4, but I hold complete faith that these two are endgame. This vid shows that- that no matter what, these two do make each other happy and will continue to do so.

Story Through Song (Kurt and Blaine)

So, I had this plan to tell the story of these two, through snippets of the songs they perform on the show. The way it played out in my head was completely different to the final product, but I still think it worked out- I will just have to wait and see what any viewers think.

You Will Find Me (Kurt and Blaine)

A collection of Klaine, from seasons 2 and 3. The dialogue plays out chronologically, while the visuals are a mish-mash of moments.

Hear Your Heart (Kurt and Blaine)

The early days. While I love watching these two together, there is still something so sweet about the time we were all waiting anxiously for it to happen.

The Reason Why You’re Around (Kurt and Blaine)

These boys make me laugh. Just a little vid revisiting some of the giggle and laugh out loud moments. Pure joy.

Do That Brand New Thing (Blaine Anderson)

The boy is adorable, and I just want to celebrate that.

The World Belongs To You and I (Kurt and Blaine)

Klaine moments- from the kiss in 2.16, up to episode 3.18. A bit of a companion piece for my ‘I Keep Waiting’ vid.

What Is Love? (Kurt and Blaine)

Klaine-every relationship had it’s ups and downs. It’s those tough moments that make the great ones all the much more sweeter.

I Keep Waiting (Kurt and Blaine)

All the wonderful, amazing and somewhat angsty Klaine moments- from episode 2.06 to 2.16.

Bedroom Hymns {3x05} (Kurt and Blaine)

A video exploring all the Klaine moments from the amazing episode that was ‘The First Time’.

Move Your Feet (Blaine Anderson)

Just a fun little vid, focusing on our favourite moves from the one and only Blaine Anderson- from the smooth to the downright dorky.

Space They Cannot Touch (Kurt and Blaine)

So, I am addicted to these two, and am having a good time experimenting with making these fanvids. The used comes from the amazing Kate Miller-Heidke. I remember hearing it for the first time, and falling absolutely in love with it- the lyrics are so incredibly beautiful. To make it even better, the first time I saw her in concert, she informed the crowd that it was actually her husband who wrote it. Luckiest woman alive…

Anyway, I just felt the lyrics were so perfect to showcase the Klaine relationship and could not resist.

#fanvid #my fanvids #masterlist #masterlist: klaine vids #glee #klaine

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thepillareddark · 7 years

Text

The Brushstroke-Trap

I’m at the Tate Modern and I’m sitting in the Rothko room, which is dimmed out so you can only faintly see the canvases, which adds to their huge, moody, red weight. I’m in front of this red one that covers a whole wall over two separate canvases. There’s a hollow rectangle in the top canvas, and a wider hollow rectangle on the bottom one.

I spend a long time with this one. I use my eyes to follow the trace outline of the bottom rectangle and realise that it’s composed of several bits, and that the paint fades at some points and makes a line at others. There are some drips coming off of it, there are some individual brush lines, there are some marks that have been created by water, or ink perhaps, that the canvas has kind of soaked in. Rothko’s achieved a remarkable blending effect on the body of the canvas such that it’s both a consistent, markless red, and has purple patches which fade in and out. You really need to let yourself be overwhelmed by these paintings.

I read on the board on the way out that Rothko was trying, in a basic sense, to communicate how he felt in Picasso’s old studio, where it was oppressive, and hot, and red, and he says that it’s like being built into bricks and trying to headbutt your way out.

I walk left through two rooms and find the works of my favourite photographer hung up: Daido Moriyama. He was a photographer working in Tokyo and later Shibuya who used a film camera to capture street photography. His photos are nothing short of stunning, groundbreaking, heart stopping, life changing: just with a gutter in the grime with light shining on it he can change every single little thing you ever thought about transmission of information, about streetwear, colour, beauty, instinct, metacognition, awe. You want to look at each one for years, you want to be them. There’s a photo of a Japanese character on an advert placed in front of a light source in the sky lined with telephone wires which recalls every single person’s get-to-heaven metropolitan sinner-dream, there’s a photo of a black-pupiled Japanese piercing-goth with artificial horns who has achieved true kindness through invitation into another world, there’s a blurry photo of a geometric work block which is the entire aesthetic, in one godlike shot, of the entirety of metropolitan dystopian anime, of vaporwave, of sadboy aesthetics, of modern ennui, of that modern death-sublime, and there’s a dog.

The dog is Moriyama, the dog is the artist travelling in a straight line, and everything which gives him an erotic impulse he captures with his shutter. The dog’s fur is lit up by the sun into a hugely detailed worldscape of fur and instinct and beauty, and it’s face is distorted into a kind of “I’m still alive you fucker” grin, which recalls the “I will shoot until I will run out of film / I will feel till I die” dichotomy which every modern poet really wishes they could suggest through their own animal existence. Moriyama would return to that dog again and again, just as he would return to Shibuya because he thought of himself as the same of it. Moriyama is surely beyond hermeneutics because he doesn’t care that a photograph might ever not be enough of his internal experience to not give his whole human experience, that is, photography for him is eroticism because his continued journey through a city is a series of erotic impulses, a series of eternal feelings, and he doesn’t presume himself to be bigger than that, or bigger than being expressed by an uncanny, smiling dog. To say it even simpler: his experience is expressed in every photograph, his whole wholeness is in every photograph, every blurred vine-house with fridges beneath the rotting stairs, every pink-lipsticked circle-faced girl below a dash of paint on a subway wall.

Then I leave the Tate Modern, and I’m thinking a lot about how artists try to express themselves, and in a kind of star-aligning moment I meet a poet on the embankment who tells me he will write a poem on the spot for any amount of money, on any subject I can suggest to him. I should take a moment out here to tell you that none of this is made up, that there really is a poet near the millennium bridge who has a typewriter and who will freestyle a poem for you.

So I go and stand by the river and look out over the grey water and think about what sort of poem I want. What do people write poems about? Funerals? Black and White? I wanted a poem about what I was trying to write about the other day, the tension between innocence and beauty and obsession in matters of love, but for many reasons, this is too much.

Another guy goes up to him and asks for a poem about an oil painting. I find this funny because I wonder if he has just come out of the Tate and is thinking the same things as me about different types of art and their different powers.

Because that really is the best question, isn’t it? “Write a poem about an oil painting.” That’s really at the heart of my dilemma right now. It’s kind of brilliant, but the game is not over yet. I think for a minute and then resolve on what I’m going to ask of the poet, but all of a sudden a bird flies out of the grey water and lands on the rail.

“I can write a poem for you Alex.”, he says. “One ought to pay a river poet what he likes, and yet these sirens below these waves ask only for sailors these days. My wings are better than Daido’s camera and sweeter than Dido’s song for they ask no attention.” I look into his eyes and consider the bribe for a second: if nature is more complex than abstract art, then why should I even privilege human creation? I should live like the goddamned dogs and be sweet for meats. I come to my senses:

“Shoo, bird, return to Skelton’s cage. I repeat not the words for feathers for feathers break under the wind.” He transforms into a serpent and plunges back into the Thames: “Ai-yah, Ai-yah, the sand-eel calleth the whale once more.” I know what I want from my poet.

“Hey, can I get a poem?”

“Yes.”

“Can you do, uh, Tokyo?”

This at least makes the most sense. Poetry generation machines are rare (they do exist in their numbers) so I might be wasting a shot, but then again if I want to solve my problem I should at least compare this poet’s laurelation with Moriyama’s mind’s eye.

He starts hitting the keys on his turquoise typewriter.

Hegel, after he wrote about performativity, never wrote again. There’s something antithetical about embalming critical thought into works if you’ve just formulated performativity: instead, you should always be in the act of doing it again, of making it new, of producing it for yourself: so he turned all of his attention to teaching, to talking to his students and giving lectures, and so he could never quite be wrong because he could always be at the edge, never contradicted. He didn’t leave anything behind, he just performed, like music, and then he was gone on the air. I wonder if this poet is Hegel’s dream, because he doesn’t keep what he makes: he writes poems, and then gives them over and the people leave.

That’s not what Rothko did, that’s not even what Moriyama did. Let me get to the heart of my problem now:

There’s a big line between intention and outcome in art. Rothko knew what he wanted his painting to feel like (Picasso’s studio) and he probably had an idea of what he wanted the picture to look like (two rectangles) but because he uses brushstrokes, and dripping, he can never have total control at a microscopic level. There will always be something in the final artwork which just “worked out” very well: the paint dripped like he wanted, or it worked out for his meaning either way. This isn’t just true for dripping, it’s true for any little brushstroke because you can’t control every little hair on the brush. Again, even if you could, you would just come to leave it after a while, to just do an expression and feel like it was close to your meaning. I think Rothko was good, in his case and in many other people’s case, because through artistic talent it did work, he got to his meaning and its powerful. It’s more complex than that but bear that all in mind: that he can’t ever fully exactly do his intention, not least because he probably doesn’t actually have a microscopic idea about what his intention-painting looks like before he generates it.

What about the photographer? At the point of clicking the shutter, because he looks through a viewfinder at exactly what he will pick up, he is actually the best out of painting and poetry because he produces an EXACT copy of what he sees, his feeling for it is recorded more or less perfectly. This is the great potential power of photography, and it’s what Moriyama worked on his whole life, to great success, the true replication of an instant street-feeling. But because he can only find things in the street, in the wild, he can only make his feelings as he finds them, and then shares them- it’s a stream of consciousness, but he can’t freeze past consciousness as easily. He could set up his photographs, as many great photographers do, but then he would fall into the brushstroke-trap as well. Moreover, we might argue that photographic accuracy is less than 100% because Moriyama thrives on the static of the photo, the fuzziness of life, the blur of motion etc., things which he deliberately puts out of his control.

Still, we can produce a general formula:

Rothko is strong for the production of his intentions, because he can make what he likes with paint on canvas, but Moriyama is weak because he has to find his intentions in the street. However, Rothko is then imperfect at producing that intention with great accuracy (but he’s very close indeed) and Moriyama has (technically) 100% accuracy at producing his intentions.

So what about poetry? This is where it gets weird and you need to pay attention.

We think of pictures, especially most visual art, as an abstraction- this is particularly true for Rothko because he wasn’t making a picture. Words are non-abstract because for a given reader they have a wide, but finite and definite, semantic field. So if I say “Dog” or “Tokyo” a lot of things will flash into your head, but a limited number.

So if the poet is presuming a reader when he writes his poem, then he is arguably the best out of all three at all things: he has the necessary building blocks (words) and can modify their effects with other words and with literary devices. He can be precise, non-abstract, he can paint while also doing photographs. He can do a dog by writing “Dog” or “Mangy Dog” more efficiently, we might even suggest, then Moriyama taking a photo of a dog.

And yet, we know that only very great poets can maybe get near their full meaning, and when they do it only work sometimes, and we all then misread it and find different things anyway. So what’s going wrong? What could possibly be the problem if we should have, in poetry, the ultimate artistic medium? Well, I suppose language is imperfect: There are surely formulas of internal, human meaning, the feelings which inspire and make you want to write, for which there is no exact formulation in words, and so the poet will probably also fail too. Perhaps the best poem exists in a computer on a distant star and is millions of words long, because it has to use every possible device, word, reference etc. to create its fullness.

It feels sad to run into a linguistic problem, I think to myself, as the poet reaches the end of his typewriter paper. It’s like a painter finding out that there are not enough colours to finish his painting, that his canvas is both too large and too small at once, it’s like if Moriyama hallucinated his perfect feeling and held up his camera to photograph it in front of him, only to find that he could only take photos of what was outside, and not photograph the visions of his own mind.

Maybe we need to be less like ^the above^ about art, and just accept it for all the things it can do and make us feel, we need to just appreciate that it is often very cool and be grateful for it, be it painting, photography or poetry. Asking if the best mimetic art is the best art is silly because it assumes that the intention is the point anyway.

The poet takes the paper from the typewriter and looks at it.

Maybe I should’ve accepted the offer of the bird and taken the mescalin of the sirens. After all, what I can see with my eyes and with my mind’s eye, at least when not reduced, is all I can ever feel- why ever turn to human artists and not just rely on oneself?

“Here you go.”

“Thank you”. I give him three pounds and the thick coins fall into his hand nicely.

The struggle isn’t over, of course, because the experiment isn’t either. The above is just theory. There’s no reason that this poet isn’t about to laurelate the entire nation with a god-poem about Tokyo, something which will crush Moriyama and his civilization-defining efforts at recording his city. We are about to see what the street poet can do, the man who does not keep a manuscript, the mind on the run, the full speed of the wheel.

“Did you just come back from Toyko?”, he asks me.

“No, I was just in the Tate Modern and there were some photographs that came from Tokyo.”

He laughed. “I’ve only been there for three days.”

“Oh really. The blind leading the blind, eh?”

He laughs. “Yes!” He laughs loudly, and I smile broadly, and he continues to laugh as I walk away. I thought of that as a pretty cool thing to say. I hope I impressed him. I fold the poem twice and put it in my bag, deciding to read it later.

-----

I finally read the poem, while drinking a coffee far away from the bridges and the water dragons, and then I tie it back up again and laugh out loud. I spend the rest of the day with a smile on my face. I love the poem very much indeed:

#Rothko #Modern art #art #art criticism #literature #Daido Moriyama #Moriyama #Photography #Poetry #London #Skelton

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evangelineartemiasamos · 7 years

Note

Fade, obviously. (Send me a Ship and I’ll Break Them DOWN) I’m not sure if you’ve done this before.

As if I wouldn’t have tagged you in that case^^

I’ve been waiting to do this and it’s like writing down a heap of mini Fade fan fictions and that’s shipper spirit ;-) It’ll get long!

PS: Took me hours to write this when I had planned to write Blood Curse chapter 3, an answer to your post and a review. But whatever, the things I do for Fade ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How did they they meet?

“You better not get me killed” - look at canon in Steel Scars.

Who developed romantic feelings first?

Shade (he stopped denying sooner than her)

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

I am. And you too @clarafarleybarrow

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

When Farley goes to find him at the end of Steel Scars and they crouch down together because they’re shocked about what happened to Mare at Queenstrial. They start to hold hands while Shade leans against her. They talk about what to do now and fall silent after a while yet the silence doesn’t feel awkward, not even in the turmoils of Rocasta. Finally, Farley turns to him and starts to speak. “We should,” she says, then stops herself. She doesn’t know what to say, actually, and she doesn’t know why. Looking at him is enough, especially with the way he returns her gaze. She stops thinking when she closes the last distance between him, reaching with her hand to his neck to pull him to her and kiss him. She draws her head back, after a not so short moment, but maintains her position otherwise. Shade blinks at her and she sees the smile in his eyes just before they start kissing again.

Who confessed their feelings first?

I think a lot happened more non-verbal or in indirect phrases. Like when Shade asks for her name and replies “I’m with you, Diana” when he pledges to the Guard.

As in who says “I love you” first, it’s Farley. It’s an accident, I’ve alluded to it here: https://chaoslaborantin.tumblr.com/post/158758240798/red-queen-fan-fiction-in-the-meantime

She has morning sickness and he goes after her, holding her hair away. After some time, she gets up and washes her face, staying a little out of his way, but he hugs her anyways, brushes her cheek, and kisses her. She gasps. “Are you okay?” he murmurs and then she says it. “That’s why I love you.”

Both blush cherry-red immediately. “I love you too,” Shade answers and stumbles over the words. She smirks.

What was their first official date?

Shade: “The time when I took her to Corvium and used my ability to bring her there. Firstly, I made her vomit, and then she stripped down in front of me. And I loved the way she gave me this pointed glances while we royally screwed up those Silvers. It was a glorious day.”

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

It’s a no. Secrecy is their aesthetic.

What do they do in their down time?

Does that mean hobbies and spare time? Shade tells Farley to lean back a little and finally put the work away. She doesn’t, but always finds something to lowkey complain about. Shade asks her to relax and she replies he should help her a bit more. He nods and starts to massage her shoulders. Another time, she lays down on a bed/couch and groans. Shade asks what’s wrong but she only grumbles something. He comes over, puts her feet on his lap and massages those. He asks again what she’s worrying about and she starts to talk.

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

Look also at https://chaoslaborantin.tumblr.com/post/154931582748/rq-secret-santa-claudia

The Barrows: Farley and Shade go to them in the beginning of Glass Sword to tell them that Mare has been captured by the colonel. They tell the family not to worry, they have a plan to get her away. Shade implies they might be gone for a while but they need to do it. “I can rely 100 % on Captain Farley”, he adds and throws a glance at her. She smirks at that and notices him taking her hand. She squeezes it. All the Barrows more or less get that there’s something going on between them and Tramy is about to ask something like that, but is interrupted by Gisa who hugs Shade, and Farley as well, to her surprise. “I believe in you,” Gisa says, and gives away one of her old embroidered scarves. Yet the family remains afraid. As they leave, Daniel rolls after them and tucks Farley’s sleeve. “You will take care him, Captain?” he asks. She nods, and Daniel adds “I fear he’s bad at doing it himself.”

The Colonel: I think they never meet each other with Fade as an official couple. I guess what happened it this:

Farley: “Colonel, this is Shade Barrow who has relayed very important intelligence to us. He is an invaluable asset, yet we have to protect our best spies, as you know very well. The reason for extracting him is …. this (makes a gesture for him to show off teleportation and Shade does). Impressive isn’t it? (grins)

Colonel: … The fuck … ?

Farley: Deal with it. (leaves)

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?

When Farley thought he was a Silver? Yep, I would say so, please re-read Steel Scars ;-) (I haven’t dared to yet, btw, since KC)

Which one is more easily made jealous?

Equally. The funny thing is that they never admit their jealousy to each other, but the other notices it nevertheless and they still manage to tease each other about it.

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

Farley likes junkfood, I think that’s mentioned in KC? Shade is more into fish and homecooking (though he isn’t that good at it), while Farley is okay with eating in the mess hall. Shade mocks her about her simple taste every now and then and tries to keep Clara away from junkfood.

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?

Farley. She likes to sit on his lap, or when he massages her. Sometimes Shade wonders if she prefers to cuddle him or Clara.

Are they hand holders?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

They are the queen and king of handholders, I hope you have noticed how often Farley talks about his hands? She loves them!

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

Look here: https://chaoslaborantin.tumblr.com/post/158757768598/red-queen-fan-fiction-in-the-meantime

Who tops?

Alternatingly. They try out a lot in bed.

What’s the worst first they’ve ever gotten into?

I guess … Shade got angry about the whole coup d’etat thing in Red Queen. Farley has fucked up massively there and Shade got loud for once. But this was afterwards, they were too occupied with surviving at first. The fight happened after they’d arrived at Tuck, when they were alone for a moment. She looked after his wounds when he started to question her doings. She froze, straightened herself and hissed “I’m well aware, thank for reminding me”. Shade flinched and remained silent. They didn’t talk for the rest of the day. Yet Farley came back on the next day and Shade felt unexpectedly relieved. He said he didn’t want to shut her up and didn’t wish for her to build a wall between them. She could trust him. Farley crossed her arms. “Okay?” he asked, and she nodded. She made a stupid joke then and suceeded in lightening the situation. “We’ll have to be better,” he said, and she replied, “we will be.”

I’m not sure about the timing here, tbh, but I guess later in the day, Mare is captured.

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

Farley doing the shopping is somehow canon. Cooking … they both can make do, but as they live in larger groups most of the time, they leave the cooking to experts.

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?

Farley

Who proposes?

Here we get definitely in “I pretend it didn’t” happen territory. I always wanted to write this idea.

Shade proposes some weeks after they’ve realizes they’re having a baby. Farley thinks he’s joking and reacts in that way as she sees him kneeling down in front of her. She can’t stop grinning and almosts laughs, yet Shade goes all the way, until he asks “will you marry me, Diana Farley?” He tries very hard to pretend she’s laughing because she’s happy.

But finally, she says, “You’re serious, by the bleeding skies? You don’t think you have to make an honourable woman out of me, do you? Because I’m not -” She stops herself as she sees hurt flashing on his face. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean -” she pleads, but Shade stands up and turns away. He tries his best to hide his hurt but both of them know he feels it. He pretends it was a joke, as Farley thought at first.

Farley feels bad about this for weeks. Then she approaches the topic again. starting with another apology he won’t have. She insists. “I love you, Shade Barrow, and I was mean that day. I wanted to say to you, for some time now, that maybe, possibly, in some years .. I’d like to marry you. Perhaps. If we’re still alive and our cause is won.”

“Now that is a good reason to keep on fighting,” he replies.

They’re engaged for years and let people know this. There are bets about when they’ll get married, but they never let anything slip and dissemble instead. “It’s good as it is”, or “we can’t decide on a name anyways”, or “marriage is overrated, being engaged is more extra”.

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

Joined. But nobody but Shade and Farley know it’s their pre-wedding party. They pretend they just want to have a good time because they don’t tell anyone they’re getting married the next day.

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids? Big Ceremony or Small?

The smallest ceremony ever. There are only the officials which are needed, Clara, and one or two close friends from the Guard who aren’t gossips. They have their own vows, make a photo, and have a nice meal. Some alcohol, but not much. They leave Clara with one of the friends present and have a glorious wedding night.

They wonder when Clara will let it slip that her parents have finally married and that’s the only risk they’re willing to take.

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?

No. Unless they have a trip scheduled by circumstance to which they will refer to as their honeymoon ever after.

Do they have children? How many?

They have one canon child. Let’s assume they would’ve had more if Shade had lived and their cause was won. But if they have more than two, IDK?

Ask me for a ship!

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thecreativeseries · 5 years

Text

Amber Jones New Zealand Photographer and Filmmaker

INTERVIEW WITH OCEAN PHOTOGRAPHER AND FILMMAKER @amberandfriendsphotography

Amber Jones is Photographer and Videographer from the Hawkes Bay of New Zealand. A surfer, morning lover, self-confessed introvert and adventurer.

Ambers work is captivating and her love for the ocean and what lies beneath is evident in her imagery. The passion amber has for storytelling and it’s ability to create real and lasting change is what makes her such an inspirational creative. She works closely with her forever fiancé Riley Elliot a Shark Scientist and waterman.

Firstly, can you start with a little bit about yourself?

As potentially the biggest introvert in the world, my imagery is my own dialogue of communicating these epic things to the world instead of using words, which I’d fumble the shit out of in front of a crowd ha ha.

What would you say inspires your current vision?

The ocean is the lifeblood of Earth and many incredible shows happen within it on a daily basis. It is the perfect training ground because it’s never the same conditions - Especially here in NZ.

It’s super volatile and easily affected by winds, tide & swell so it’s a constant photographic university!

How would you describe your photography style?

Evoking emotion out of the viewer is usually at the forefront of my work, no matter what the subject. I want them to feel the same way I felt as I clicked the shutter and so far, the feedback has been spot on so I’m on track with my mission.

What drew you to capture the ocean the way you do?

As an underwater photographer/videographer. I am treated to these spectacular shows put on by the water and it’s inhabitants on a daily basis. I wondered if I were to share this imagery around people would resonate with it and end up respecting it the same way I do, and ultimately wanting to protect it.

It’s really easy to look at a beach in New Zealand and think how ‘clean’ and ‘pretty’ it is compared to say, our neighbours over in Indonesia and the Pacific but if you look really closely at the sand you’ll see thousands of micro plastics which is really only the beginning of our problem here. If people learn to value something they’ll want to protect it so it’s there tomorrow and that’s the mission with my ocean based photography.

Can you give a breakdown of the equipment you use to create your work?

I keep things really simple with a Canon 1Dxii and a two lenses - a 50mm and a 16-35m, and of course the Aquatica housing which lets me take my kit in the water at depths of up to 100m!

What would be your favourite lens and why?

Hands-down the 50mm. I’m obsessed. It can shoot down to 1.4 so the depth is insane. It means I can really put my own unique take on the surf & wildlife stuff which are a fairly saturated market these days.

What are your go to settings when you shoot in the ocean?

Never, ever the same! The ocean is completely different one day from the next - even hourly - so my settings are always completely different, which makes it all the more exciting!

Do you have a favourite location you prefer to shoot?

It may be biased but home in the Coromandel for sure. Against the stunning white sand beach and mountainous backdrop we have an abundance of sharks and waves. It’s not called ‘Paradise Coast’ for nothing!

Is there somewhere you are dying to shoot but you haven’t had the chance yet?

Tahiti! I can imagine it has natural elements similar to NZ but a thousand times warmer!

You can spend hours in the water what keeps you motivated?

The personal evolution. I always leave the water having learned something or have a newfound respect for someone/thing.

Have you ever had an experience in the ocean that really scared you?

I have had much more scary moments in big waves than with the sharks I like to photograph that’s for sure! It’s all about feeling comfortable in your environment and you achieve that by spending the time to learn about the specific activity.

For me, I feel completely helpless in big swells because I haven’t spent much time doing it, but thanks to my partner Riley & the knowledge he’s shared I feel completely at ease swimming with a 12ft pregnant Mako shark.

Can you tell me about any unpleasant encounters with marine life?

To this day I can honestly say that the most unpleasant encounter I’ve had is with seasickness. I just can’t shake it no matter what I eat/drink/think!

What do you enjoy most about your career as a photographer?

Telling stories and giving people a window into a world they wouldn’t usually get access to and convincing them to cherish the ocean as much as we (partner/shark scientist Riley and I) do.

Most humans aren’t ignorant or malicious people - they just haven’t had access to the information about the conditions of our oceans and wildlife, so if I can aid in that process using a natural gift then that’s what I’ll do, because the biggest mistake we can make is to think ‘someone else will do it’!

When you are not in the water what are your other passions?

My dog, Kona - The other love of my life ha ha.

How do you continue to evolve as a photographer?

The internet is both a blessing and a burden with the plethora of information out there. I watch a few tutorials and vlogs by people who I think are pushing the envelope of content and then inject my own spin and style on them. I also try and shoot a lot of passion projects to keep the fire ignited.

Among all your work what is your most memorable capture?

So hard!! I have two events which really stick out; One was purely because it was my first ‘hands on’ shark dive with my camera. Riley had made me sit on the boat for the first few sessions so that I could watch the behaviours of the Blue Shark from the safety of the boat, then after hours of studying his Go Pro footage we went out one morning, chummed up, and found the ‘dream’ shark to work with.

He gave me the all-clear to jump in with this relatively large, but chilled out Blue shark and I will never, ever forget that moment. The water was uncharacteristically clear and calm and as soon as I entered the water it was like the entire universe stood still. I was full of adrenaline yet blanketed in this unexplainable calm, watching this peaceful creature weave itself through Riley and I.

the second was producing my first documentary “Hinemoana” this year which is a celebration of female surfing in New Zealand. It was a passion project with a script that had been sitting on my hard drive for almost three years when the opportunity came up to work with an American production company (Triglass Productions) to bring it to life.

After a few Skype calls I completely trusted their vision for the film and they flew over in March and we smashed it out in a week! Mother Nature delivered the goods to both coasts over the course of the week so we have one incredible film currently being cut in the USA for release hopefully by September! Watch this space!!

What is something you wish you had known when you first started your journey in photography?

To stop worrying about what everyone else is doing and stick to my own mission.

How do to keep yourself physically fit to be able to do what you do?

My dog Kona will NEVER let me sleep in past 7am so we’re up and at ‘em every morning for a walk or run. In Summer, my life consists of running, surfing & diving so I don’t have to consciously try and keep fit but in Winter I unfortunately have to rely on our little gym here and make sure I commit to at least two days a week among the dog running.

What methods do you use for editing? Can you explain your workflow?

I use the Adobe creative suite simply because all the controls translate within each other and its easy to navigate once you get the hang of only a few things. There are so many tutorials out there which keep me on my toes and learning new tricks!

Who would you say are your greatest influencers and inspirations?

Cristina Mittermeier (photographer/speaker/Sea Legacy) - is an incredible advocate for the environment using her storytelling skills to make a difference, I love everything she stands for. Danielle Clayton (owner/founder Salt Gypsy) - Danny introduced me to the world of sustainable fashion and really opened my eyes to being a conscious consumer. She really empowered me to use my storytelling capabilities for brands doing good shit in the world & I’ll be forever grateful for our paths crossing. Riley - He’s always pushing me to be a better person, in and out of the water and is my constant source of underwater inspiration.

Brands like Toms, Salt Gypsy & Patagonia for lifting the lid on traditional surf wear and challenging the market to be better, both environmentally and socially.

vimeo

Lastly do you have any advice you would give someone starting out in photography?

Stick to your own aesthetic and shoot things you’re most passionate about and it’ll shine through in your imagery.

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scarlett-abbott-blog · 7 years

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Task 6 - Influential Artist Comparative Analysis

Daisuke Yokota - Nocturnes

“If you look at music or film, there is time there. In other words, the work has a clear beginning and end, and in between, you shut out your daily life—you throw yourself into the work. There’s no element of duration to your experience of a photograph; it’s closer to an object. - Daisuke Yokota

I admire Yokota for his thoughts and considerations on the act of memory and the relevant substance of time. His overall belief is that, as we all know, memory fades as time passes by. He focuses on trying to highlight the parts of our memories that we remember for good reason, and does not worry about remembering the rest as it must not be “important” if we forget it so readily. He discovered this whilst developing a huge amount of film from past years of his life whilst bedbound sick. He realised what he could and couldn’t bring to mind and recognise, and wondered why.

Through his unconventional development methods, Yokota almost brings a sense of loss to these images through heavy visual effects which “spoil” the images and obscure the details from our view. Overexposure, dust, grain and huge negative spaces make the shoots feel as alien to us as his memories are to him.

I choose to compare this “wrong” presentation with two of my colour film shoots.

These images share a visual uncertainty with Yokota’s; a knowledge that this is not how the events actually looked, but this is the only way we can “see” them now. This is how memories work. One cannot remember every word said in a day of their life, but main events and faces can be recalled in time. The accidental effects applied confuse the mind and make me actually doubt the honesty of the shots. Just as I doubt my own memory. It’d be interesting to show these shots to the subjects they display and see what they have to say about the images, but I’m afraid they are dust in the wind by now.

The fact that neither Yokota’s nor my visual “faults” were intentional is an amazing coincidence.

The difference holds between our work that Yokota’s memories are faded by time, whereas I never had the memory of my events that he did, thanks to ancillary features such as underage drinking and an unfortunate general disregard for attentiveness. I want to feel this devalues my work in comparison for shame if nothing else, but we both went through the same process of discovering our own memories, and through a lens of distortion we didn’t expect to have. An audience will never have the same experience I have when looking at there, I realise that, but if I felt something whilst looking at Yokota’s images, surely others can feel something upon seeing mine too?

So does colour make a difference? Yokota’s images were never taken in colour and the lack thereof, as I have previously suggested, builds up this sense of timelessness and a certain separation from reality because I will ever see the “present” world this way (chances of onset colourblindness aside). Having desaturated them now, I don’t feel any more endeared to the memories, but rather distanced. I don’t like it. I think perhaps because my images are more lively and friendly than Yokota’s they suit colour more, or perhaps it is because his look more authentically aged, mine are a little too clean. Either way, if I am struggling to connect to the images, the audience has little hope so I definitely want these shots to be in colour. This is strange, as I prefer all of my other work to be in black and white for the very “memorial” effect that I am trying to achieve with these photos, but it just doesn’t work with these images.

Memorial is the most practical use I can think of for photography, unless you count inflection as practical which, really, you should. Somehow Yokota has shown me that by obscuring a memory, you can actually make it more beautiful. The fact that you now have to put personal effort into decoding the images that paint the trail of your life brings hints of conversations and laughs and girls and memories that you would have otherwise filed away forever. Our images do not explicitly state what has happened, but they come so close that they allow the mind to discover those facts for itself. They are but a spark.

Anthony Kurtz - Craft Masters

I would like to expand on why I prefer my working spaces work to that of Anthony Kurtz.

Kurtz’s images are far better taken than my own. I realise that. They are better lit, composed, and shot and thereby give a much clearer image of their subjects. Too clear, I think. Would you rather have a super high resolution photo of your face or a fine oil portrait? Through their super-reality, Kurtz’s images show a little too much detail. One of my favourite things about my work was how a lot of the shot was left to the imagination. In relation to my ideas about memory, they gave memories space to grow and spaces for those memories to fill. I loved the idea that my images would mean something different to someone who knew their environments than they would to a total stranger. This value is only possible because they look “realistic”. They are not studio lit. I did not use a tripod. They look as they would look to an (albeit colourblind) onlooker who actually occupies the spaces they detail. I think that’s important.

Having this comparison between mine and Kurtz’s work has shown me what I love about my images. Because they explore such similar spaces, ancillary factors such as difference of meaning can be removed and a direct comparison can be drawn on specifically our techniques.

So why does taking a worse photo make a better photo? If that’s what I’m saying here? Sure, it may well just be some self-congratulatory excuse that “hey you don’t need to put effort in”. Do I put effort in? Should I put effort in? I think I do absolutely because hey otherwise the images wouldn’t get made or be relevant to my ideas, but Kurtz definitely invests more time. His work has told me that I’m interested in honest and easy photography, not framing the perfect shot. And I’ve realised that this is okay. Art is a funny thing in that usually taking the “easy” way often results in the best work. The best music, the best sculpture, the best photographs. Then again, who am I to say what’s best for a subjective topic?

Technique aside, the main difference between our images is that Kurtz’s subjects are these craftspeople, where mine are their environments. On a presentational scale, this means that Kurtz’s images are instantly more eyecatching (that and from their vivid colours) and can stand alone. I think my photos would have to be presented in series to hold any meaning as each of them only constitutes a part of an idea. If I am to be documenting an environment alone then the full outcome would need to detail different interconnected parts of it to show as much personality as actually featuring a person would.

So what have I learnt from studying his work? Perfection does not bring meaning. Aesthetics do not bring meaning. Not to me, at least. Having seen such well constructed work on a similar subject matter to my own has shown me that I don’t want to try too hard. That sounds like a cop out. I want to put effort and thought into my work, but I don’t want to feel bad if every shot doesn’t take an hour to capture. The less I worry about my images being correct, the closer I can get to true expression and honest image making. Which has been my objective all along, hasn’t it?

Ellen Rogers - Indirection

I don’t want to repeat myself here.

Rogers very clearly has a deep personal connection with her shoots and the subjects within. The locations, the setting and the muses all seem to fit together so specifically and clearly that it’s clear there is more going on that she doesn’t share with the world. Her fashion photography is beautiful, but not of interest to me specifically. I want to talk about the connection that one can see in her work.

I have never so much as attempted to try and recreate any of Rogers’ shooting ideas, but I feel that I can at least try to understand the relationship she shares with her subjects. Because Rogers at least seems to know the people she photographs, the images depict not only those people, but the way she feels towards them. The feature of occasional direct address show how they feel towards her and her work, and I feel this is certainly comprehensible, though I’ve never explicitly tried to do it myself.

Another common feature of Rogers’ work is the way she “half depicts” things. This is especially prevalent in “For Iain”.

Narrow lenses, strange angles and negative space leave the audience feeling there should be something more in these images. I know I’ve said this before but I realise that I somewhat do the same in my work.

This almost perverse act of looking on without full explanation means that our work shares themes of mystery and some hidden deeper meaning. Photography’s about observation, right? Rogers has shown me that it’s okay to be aware of that sense of observation. I’m all for images that present the lens as an invisible force, but if subjects are shown to be aware of the photographer and, in conjunction, audience then it makes the viewing of such an image a cooperative experience. It’s one thing for someone to say that a picture reminded them of something, but if the picture looks back, it can ask them something instead of just suggesting it.

My work differs from Rogers’ in that I am focusing on the “background” of these locations, whereas in most of her work she focuses on how her subjects react to them. Although her images are “constructed” with specific outfits and locations, they differ to, say, Kurtz in that they still feel genuine. The aged outfits suit the aged locations suit the aged lomography. Kurtz blends very clean photography with working environments, elements which clash together and feel, to me at least, unnatural and strange. Not in a good way. Rogers manages to suit her techniques to her subject matter, and I feel that I have done similarly at least to the extent of “cleanliness”.

Kikiji Kawada?

/WIP/

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