#shutter glitter photography

[shutterglitter]

Introductory

From as far back as I could remember, music brought me joy. In my later years, as a teenager, I found a love for writing. Today, as a young adult, I’m using the only two useful skills I was given in life to bring inspiration and creativity to those around me.  Today, I’m an aspiring author and a published photographer. Today, I am inspiring the people around me to do better, to support their communities, and do it... Today. 

This is me. Photographing one of the bands that changed my entire life; Beartooth. To top off this life changing and full circle moment, the photos I did that night were perhaps some of the BEST photos I had ever done. I have worked for bands such as Ice Nine Kills, blessthefall, and Smile Empty Soul. However, I do loads of work with the local artists in my local music scene. After COVID had shut everything down, artists were struggling. For a lot, this was their livelihood, but for many this was a way of life. Whether they made money or not from these small town shows, music is a passion, a way of life, and an escape from life all at the same time. I partnered with a small promotion to help bring the local music scene back to life. Step by step, it’s getting there. Together, we helped promote bands, book shows, and get the cogs going again. Sure, they needed some greasing, but the music scene is coming back stronger and better than ever. 

(photo: Inferior Design’s drummer doing what he does best)

 On top of getting a better footing with photography, I began writing more. I created goals for myself, promises to get rough drafts done and to be fully published by the end of 2023. I have a lot of other goals set with my loving fiancé, such as starting our food truck. This is something we both hope to one day build into owning a music venue. There’s only so much planning and goal setting a person can do before it becomes pointless. You have to work for these goals as you set them. If you aren’t accomplishing anything, then what’s the point? There isn’t one. 

You have to work today to get something accomplished tomorrow. 

I hope everybody finds a goal in life to strive for, that give’s them a spark and a purpose. No goal is too small or too big for you to achieve, you have to believe you can do it and then send it. 

If you want to closely follow my photography journey, you can find my most recent updates on Facebook and Instagram. I’ll keep you guys updated with the latest and greatest updates on my writing soon...Once I figure out how I want to do that.

[rottenpumpkin13]

This Time I'll Call

⏤ Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children

⏤ AU, Angst with a happy ending, Cloud Strife/Genesis Rhapsodos, grief, feelings of guilt, major character death but the characters are already dead.

⏤ WC: 1620

⏤ Genesis’s coping method these days include a phone number that no longer exists.

⏤ My writing is extremely wonky in this because I’m getting over yet another wave of writer’s block, but I cried to Yellow by Coldplay while thinking of this and now you get to feel my pain too :,)

The shutter of the camera echoed faintly across the vacant parking lot. It flashed, capturing the moment in color, but never in its full glory. It’s what Genesis found the most annoying about photography.

Photos never did beautiful scenery justice, and certainly not the infamous, golden sunset over Midgar’s ruins.

The sunlight would streak through broken glass and make the red dirt glow. Every dust particle became glitter, the piles of metal and rock were painted orange and yellow, and the decrepit buildings would soak up life in each sun ray, giving them the illusion of their prior glory, when Midgar was still a bustling metropolis. 

Genesis lowered the camera, then unslung the strap from around his neck. Angeal would always have them pose in the scenery after he’d taken the picture.

He said he liked to capture both the place and the people he was with, who were almost always Genesis and Sephiroth. 

He’d always bark orders at them, telling one to sling his arm over the other, or nagging Sephiroth to smile. Cracking a joke always worked. Sephiroth would always laugh at Angeal’s jokes. 

Sephiroth’s laugh was comically deep, a phenomenon that never failed to make Genesis himself laugh. Soon enough the two would be laughing and Angeal would snap the photo.

Genesis laughed quietly at the memory, then stuffed the camera in his open bag. 

It was a rooftop parking lot in one of the few skyscrapers that still stood. The hollow chill of the mid-autumn air magnified every sound tenfold, making the wind that whistled through cracks in the concrete sound like ghostly screams.

Genesis slung his legs over the barrier, sitting right on the edge of the drop. Then he reached across and pulled the bag closer to him. He fished around until he found his phone.

Genesis wasn’t delusional, don’t get him wrong. He knew dialing a dead man’s number was nothing but metaphorically picking at a wound. 

But it wasn’t like it was a daily bout of mania. It was only once every few months, a tradition of sorts. 

Each key he pressed emitted a small beep as he dialed the number. It went as it always did. He’d press the phone to his ear, his heart nearly tearing a hole through his chest, then wait for the electronic voice. 

“We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

“Hey ‘Geal, it’s Genesis!” He forced the words out no matter how much his voice trembled. “Guess where I am right now? Midgar. Well, what’s left of it at least.” In a low tone, he added: “You can thank Seph for that.” 

Genesis fixed his eyes on the ruins below. The breeze raked through his hair before he ran his own hand through it. “So…It was my birthday last week. Thirty-four. That’s a big age.”

He rolled his eyes. “Remember when Director Lazard turned thirty-four and refused to let us throw him an office party, but we did so anyway? Yeah, now I know how he felt.” 

Genesis crossed his legs. “Can you believe the little shits threw me a party? Behind my back too. I walked into the bar and was met with a giant banner that read Gen’s 34th. Ugh. I would’ve left immediately if the kids didn’t look so happy.”

He paused, then huffed. “Marlene ate so much cake she got that crazed cat look in her eyes, you know, the one Seph used to get when he ate too much sugar?” 

Genesis coughed, trying to hide his laughter. “And Cid—Captain Highwind, you’ve heard of him—he kept egging Tifa on, saying she couldn’t handle her liquor until she caved and beat him in a drinking competition.” 

This time he did laugh, heartily as the memory replayed in his mind’s eye. 

“She claimed she was only a little tipsy, but couldn’t mix one drink for the rest of the night. I took over, of course. I missed playing bartender. I still help out there some nights when the bar’s too packed, not that I have much time for that anymore.” 

Genesis leaned over and braced his head in his hand. “The WRO and Reeve keep me pretty busy…Something I’d never thought I’d say. Oh! And I’m a writer now! An officially published author!”

He couldn’t keep himself from giggling childishly. He was alone after all, with not one Barret Wallace to tease him for his laugh in sight. “It’s a part of a project the WRO’s working on. I’m under a pseudonym, of course, and instead waxing poetic about LOVELESS themes, I’m writing about The Cetra.” 

He smirked, tracing the cracks in the concrete with his free hand. “Can you believe I did it all? SOLDIER, wanted war criminal, presumed dead man and now I’m a writer. At least that’s how Yuffie phrases it.”

Genesis sat up straight, then shielded his eyes from the sunlight. “Speaking of Yuffie and LOVELESS, they’re making a new blockbuster action franchise based on LOVELESS. I watched the first movie last week with Cloud, Yuffie, and Vincent. I think I’m starting to grow on her. She can finally stand to be in the same room as me instead of attempting to kill me.” 

He sighed. “She has guts. Reminds me of myself at that age.” There was a pause before he added: “Firaga skills included, by the way…She nearly set Cid’s head on fire when he dared her to light his cigarette with materia.”

He stretched, stifling a yawn. “And then there’s Cloud.”

Genesis felt his heartstrings tighten at the thought of him. His lips subconsciously stretched into a smile.

“We’re doing well, taking it slowly…If him sleeping in my apartment during weekends is slow.” He shook his head. “I like him. A lot. And he likes me too, which is…Something I never thought I’d have the privilege of saying.” 

The sun dipped more into the horizon with each passing minute. “Angeal…Have you ever felt guilty? And I mean truly guilty? Because I do all the time. Cloud says it’s me developing a conscience after, quote, years of being an asshole.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel seriously undeserving of the things I have, of the job I have after deserting SOLDIER, the friends I’ve made after I lead you….”

The phone nearly slipped from his weakened hand, but Genesis pressed it harder to his ear. He felt the sharp pierce to his nose, the pain that preceded the tears. He bit his lip harshly enough to taste the metallic pang of blood on his tongue. 

“After I lead you to your death.” 

The phone rang. Genesis paled, eyes shooting open as he jerked his hand away. The smidgen of hope that pricked his nerves became a childish reflex once he saw the name. 

Cloud flashed across the screen, right above the picture Genesis had taken of him in Kalm a few months ago, the one where he’s smiling while holding a Chocobo chick. 

He wiped away the stray tear from his cheek, then cleared his throat. 

“Hi—”

“Are you still in Midgar?” Cloud’s voice sounded from over the phone before Genesis could greet him.

Genesis sighed, then felt his body deflate as his shoulders dropped. “I am, why?” He scoffed in a mocking tone. “Miss me?” 

He could practically feel Cloud roll his eyes from the other end. 

“Full of yourself much?”

Genesis shrugged. “Not fuller than you, dearest.” 

“Gen!” Cloud sputtered, no doubt blushing while Genesis laughed uncontrollably. He groaned. “Look, if we’re late again, Tifa’s gonna freak. I’m coming to pick you up.” 

Genesis slipped from the barrier, standing up. “No need. As much as I love—”

“Genesis if you say ‘riding you’ I’m hanging up.”

“Riding with you!” Genesis corrected him with a smirk. “I need to stretch my wings a bit more. Besides, it’s quicker.” 

“You sure? I don’t like letting you fly at night.” 

Genesis smiled, leaning on the barrier. “You worry too much, Strife.”

“Because you’re a hazard to yourself and others, Rhapsodos.”

Genesis scoffed. “I’ll be there in a bit. I need to get started on that dumbapple pie, anyway, or else Marlene will have my head. I promised I’d bake her one weeks ago.”

“Alright,” Cloud said. “Call me if you change your mind. And stop flying if you get a wing cramp on the way, got it?” 

“Fine, fine,” Genesis waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Once they had said their goodbyes, Genesis pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. A trembling sigh reverberated through his chest. Then, he put the phone up to his ear again.

“I have to go now, ‘Geal.” Genesis pressed his lips together as if it would stop the words from spilling out. “I miss you, old friend. I miss you more than the richest words could express.” He sighed. “Say hi to the puppy for me. And tell him Cloud sends his love.”

He gathered up his things, then slung the bag over his shoulder. “While you’re at it, give Sephiroth a good kick in the shins for me, will you?” Genesis smiled, but he didn’t notice it. “And tell him I miss him too. Terribly.” 

Genesis inched the phone away from his face, paused, and then put it to his ear again. “Before I go, it should come as no surprise to you but…”

He sighed, letting his shoulders deflate as the weighted emotions rolled off of them. 

“Three friends go into battle. One is captured. One flies away. The one that is left….” 

As Genesis began to walk away, he looked at the sunset one last time. 

“Lives to tell the tale.”

[hustlemedia0928]

Vegas Victories: Capturing Your Corporate Success with a Las Vegas Photographer

Vegas Victories: Capturing Your Corporate Success with a Las Vegas Photographer

Las Vegas: a city synonymous with high stakes, dazzling lights, and an undeniable "go big or go home" attitude.  It's a microcosm of the hustle - a place where deals are struck, empires are built, and success stories are born.  For today's go-getters and corporate powerhouses, Las Vegas isn't just a vacation destination; it's a potential battleground for business dominance.

Here at Hustle Media, we know that image is everything in the corporate world. That's why we believe in the power of professional photography to elevate your brand and showcase your Las Vegas victories.  A skilled Las Vegas corporate photographer can capture the dynamism and success of your business, leaving a lasting impression on clients, partners, and potential investors.

Beyond the Glitz: Why You Need a Las Vegas Corporate Photographer

Sure, Las Vegas offers a plethora of selfie-worthy backdrops. But when it comes to crafting a professional image for your business, there's no substitute for the expertise of a dedicated corporate photographer. Here's why:

Elevating Your Brand: High-quality photos elevate your brand image, conveying professionalism, sophistication, and a commitment to excellence.

Visual Storytelling: Photos tell a story without words. A Las Vegas corporate photographer captures the energy and spirit of your team, showcasing your company culture and values.

The Power of Location: Las Vegas offers a unique canvas for corporate photography. From the sleek architecture of the Strip to the raw beauty of the desert landscape, your photographer can leverage these iconic backdrops to enhance your brand story.

Targeted Content Creation: Professional photographs are invaluable assets for your marketing strategy. Use them on your website, social media platforms, and in press releases to attract new clients and strengthen your brand identity.

Building Trust and Credibility: High-quality visuals convey a sense of professionalism and inspire trust in potential clients.

Finding the Perfect Las Vegas Corporate Photographer for Your Hustle

Not all photographers are created equal. Here at Hustle Media, we recommend considering these factors when searching for the ideal Las Vegas corporate photographer to capture your victories:

Experience Matters: Look for photographers with a proven track record of capturing stunning corporate portraits, team photos, and event photography in Las Vegas.

Portfolio Power: A photographer's portfolio is a window into their style and experience. Choose someone whose work aligns with your vision and aesthetic.

Understanding Your Brand: It's crucial to find a photographer who appreciates your brand identity and can translate it into compelling visuals.

Communication is Key: Choose a photographer who actively listens to your needs and communicates clearly throughout the entire process.

Hustle Media's Top Las Vegas Corporate Photography Ideas

Feeling inspired to showcase your Las Vegas corporate hustle? Here are some creative ideas:

The Boardroom Powerhouse: Capture your team strategizing a game-changing plan in a sleek, modern conference room.

Closing the Deal with a View: Celebrate a major victory with a group photo overlooking the glittering Vegas skyline.

Team Spirit on Display: Showcase your company culture with candid group shots during a team-building event in the desert.

Individual Excellence: Invest in professional headshots for your leadership team, exuding confidence and expertise.

The Vegas Convention Spotlight: Capture the energy and excitement of your booth at a major industry convention.

Beyond the Click: Optimizing Your Las Vegas Corporate Photography

The power of professional photography doesn't end with the click of the shutter.  Here's how to leverage your Las Vegas corporate photos to fuel further success:

Website Hero Images: Make a powerful first impression with captivating visuals on your company website.

Social Media Magnetism: Attract new followers and engage existing ones with high-quality photos on your social media platforms.

Press Release Power: Include professional photos in your press releases to garner media attention and brand recognition.

Networking Essentials: Use impactful photographs on marketing materials and presentations to impress potential clients and investors.

Lights, Camera, Action: Capture Your Las Vegas Corporate Hustle Today

Las Vegas is a city that thrives on ambition and success.  With the right Las Vegas corporate photographer by your side, you can translate your victories and brand story into captivating visuals that leave a lasting impression.

Ready to showcase your Las Vegas hustle to the world? Here at Hustle Media, we can connect you with the top Las Vegas corporate photographers who specialize in capturing the essence of your success.  Get in touch today and let's transform your corporate story into a visual masterpiece!

For more information, contact the following number: 702 - 980 - 9620 You can also e-mail us: Art@HUSTLMedia.com Visit our website at www.hustlmedia.com

[propface]

Waterproof Backdrops: Easy Clean-Up, Stunning Photos

Photography is so much more than a snap of a shutter or pushing a button. Good photography tells a story, captures a moment in time, and evokes emotion. The final image is influenced greatly by various elements, but one stands above the rest - backdrops. One of the favored choices among photographers, regardless of their field of expertise, is a waterproof backdrop.

Let's find out what makes backdrops a popular choice. More importantly, we will show you that they not only aid easy clean-ups but also allow you to capture stunning photos.

Why Choose Waterproof Backdrops?

So, why do photographers love using backdrops? The answer is quite straightforward - it's their practicality and versatility. Backdrops can be used to capture amazing photos in a plethora of environments, even where water might otherwise ruin a traditional backdrop.

Think of instances where your scene might include a product that splashes water or any other liquid for that matter. Do not even start worrying about an unintended spill during your busy shoot. With a waterproof backdrop, it’s easy as pie to wipe it away and continue with your session.

Flawless Background with White Backdrops

Getting the perfect shot might be a significant part of your job, but maintaining an effortless workflow is equally important, don't you agree? Here's where white backdrops come into play.

A white backdrop simplifies your setup process and provides a clean and basic backdrop, allowing your subject to remain the main point of attention. When it's waterproof, maintaining its pristine condition becomes remarkably easier. Stains and spills can be cleaned up in no time, and you have the ideal setting for your products to shine.

Boosting Aesthetics with Tile Backdrops

Subtle yet significant, tile backdrops provide a sprint of texture and depth to your photographic composition. They usher in an innate charm to the frame that enhances the overall aesthetics.

However, maintaining the precision of tile patterns can be a challenge, particularly if the shooting environment involves liquids. Thankfully, with waterproof tile backdrops, you can utilize their engaging pattern without the worry of damage, making clean-up a breeze.

Creating a Sparkle with Tinsel Curtain Backdrop

A tinsel curtain backdrop creates a sense of celebration, vibrancy, and playfulness in your frame. Accentuated with the use of colorful lighting, this backdrop can take a regular frame and immediately give it a festive feel.

But with tinsel curtain backdrop, the challenge remains with their maintenance, especially during shoots that involve champagne pops or glitter bursts. The solution? A waterproof curtain backdrop that offers the vibrancy you desire and the convenience you need.

Choosing your Backdrop

Here's how you can start adding these incredible backdrops to your photography toolkit:

Identify your needs: the backdrop you choose should complement the product you're shooting.

Ensure they’re waterproof: This is key for easy cleanup and repeated uses.

Select a reliable supplier: Assess the quality, durability, and design selection when choosing where to purchase.

Final Thoughts

Backdrops not only simplify the maintenance process but add an unmatchable professional finish to your pictures. They are a phenomenal tool in a photographer’s kit, elevating the quality of every shot.

Try experimenting with different types of backdrops, and watch as your product photography reaches dazzling new heights.

[kaiaashaluz]

The Lights of the Eiffel Tower

ph: ashanair

[sugar-petals]

♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan 

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass.  Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn  Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground.  Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot  lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two  from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it  clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this.  You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[bpro-cardstories]

Yuta Ashu SR ーRequestー

2019 ー Special Moment [特別な瞬間]

“But I think carrying a camera with you has no harm because you don’t know when a special moment occurs.”

『 Event: SUMMER LIVE on the beach (1st July - 10th July 2019) 』

Part 1

Yuta: ‘Gochin, Kenken! I’ll release the shutter button, so listen properly, okay?’

ーShutter button noise.ー

Yuta: ‘How was it!? Doesn’t it make a super professional tone? Look, look.’ 

Goshi: ‘Oi, Ashu. Until when are you going to do that? It’s already the third day in a row.’ 

Kento: ‘I think it’s a freebie from a quiz program? Shall I return it?’

Yuta: ‘No way! I worked so hard for the buzz-to-answer quiz!!’ 

Goshi: ‘Then take care of it in the closet.’ 

Yuta: ‘Geez~! Why do you say such a mean thing, Gochin.’ 

Goshi: ‘That’s because the camera is all you are talking about, whether you’re sleeping or are awake.’ 

Yuta: ‘I mean, you know, this little one isn’t an ordinary camera?’ 

Yuta: ‘It’s hard to get your hands on a professional waterproof single-lens reflex (SLR) camera after all!’ 

Kento: ‘Well, it’s not a camera that an amateur can handle casually, is it? So, can you master it, Yuta?’ 

Yuta: ‘Of course, perfectly~.... It's not how it is, but I feel like by playing around with it I get a hang of it.’ 

Yuta: ‘Here, look! The neighbourhood’s cat! It was taken by a beautiful woman, right?’ 

Kento: ‘Hee. Well, it seems that it can be taken as it is.’ 

Kento: ‘...... Eh, what’s this? These are all cats?’ 

Yuta (blushing): ‘Yeah, when I followed this cat a lot of its friends came, so I took a photo of them together. Each one of them is so cute~.’ 

Yuta: ‘This time I want to try taking pictures of people, not just cats. And try the waterproof function! You can take a photo shoot anywhere in the sea or in the pool. Because when Gochin or Kenken are swimming all coolly the camera will capture you perfectly, leave it to me as your cameraman!’ 

Goshi: ‘Leave it to me, you say….. There’s no such opportunity to go to the sea.’ 

Yuta: ‘Then creating one should be fine! When was our next holiday again!?’

Goshi: ‘Hmpf…. I won’t go. Go alone if you want to go.’ 

Yuta: ‘Eeh, there’s no meaning to it then!’ 

Goshi: ‘Who knows. Anyways, I’m thirsty. Ashu, give me the coke.’ 

Yuta (upset): ‘Geez…. Here you are.’ 

Goshi (smiles): ‘Thanks.’ 

Goshi: ‘.....Hm?’ 

ーFizzling noise.ー

Goshi: ‘Uwaah!? Shit, why’s the coke bursting out!?’ 

Yuta: ‘All right, here’s my chance!’ 

Goshi: ‘Oi, now’s not the time for taking pictures!’ 

Yuta: ‘Gochin, you’re making a good face~! Look, we can shoot such incidents perfectly as well. It’s good to have a camera, right?’ 

Kento: ‘Goshi covered in coke….. Haha….. No, not good, he might get mad about it…..’ 

Goshi: ‘You too, don’t laugh!’

Goshi: ‘And you, Ashu!! You set up this coke, didn’t you?’ 

Yuta (shocked): ‘W-What do you mean…..? I know nothing?’

Goshi: ‘Don’t play dumb, it’s obvious.’ 

Yuta: ‘Waah, Gochin’s mad! Let’s escape~!’

Goshi: ‘Ashu! Don’t run away!’ 

Yuta: ‘Hiiee~!!’ 

Yuta: ‘Oh, right! I had an appointment with Ryu-chan! I’m going now!’ 

Goshi: ‘Shit….’ 

Kento: ‘Hehe…..’ 

Goshi: ‘And until when do you want to laugh? Geez, Ashu, that guy…..’ 

Part 2

ーKTKR’s apartment.ー

Yuta: ‘That was really close! Only a bit more and I would have been caught by Gochin.’ 

Ryuji (sighs): ‘And that’s why you suddenly came to our place. But it’s given that Goshi is angry when he’s covered in coke.’ 

Yuta (smiles): ‘I didn’t think it would splash so beautifully on him.’ 

Yuta: ‘Gochin has the talent to get caught in mischief.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘I don’t know if you can say that it’s a talent, but…..’ 

Ryuji (smiles): ‘Well, if you ask me, you do see it a lot that he’s caught up in Yuta’s pranks.’ 

Yuta: ‘Right? I wonder if Gochin’s still mad ~.’

Yuta: ‘Hey, hey, do you think he’ll forgive me if I apologize and invite him to go to the sea?’

Ryuji: ‘Why the sea though.’ 

Yuta: ‘I mean anyone wants to go to the sea in Summer, right? Gochin must be wanting to go as well!’ 

Ryuji: ‘I don’t really think so……’ 

Yuta: ‘Eh….. Then, the river?’ 

Ryuji: ‘The place isn’t the problem. You don’t have the time for it in the first place, do you?’ 

Yuta: ‘Hmm….. That’s true, we actually don’t.’ 

Yuta (sigh): ‘Mmh, even though I got such a good camera I can’t make the most of its use, that’s such a waste.

Yuta: ‘Oh yeah, Tsubasa-chan, do we have work scheduled to go to a sea or a river in the future?’

Tsubasa: ‘I am sorry, at the moment….’ 

Yuta (sad): ‘I see…. It’s a waterproof camera after all. I wanted to take a photo that looks like “waves, splashes of water and Summer!”.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘I understand…..’ 

Tsubasa: ‘But I think carrying a camera with you has no harm because you don’t know when a special moment occurs.’

Yuta (smiles): ‘A special moment huh…..’ 

Yuta: ‘Yeah, it’s just as Tsubasa-chan says! I’ll carry the camera around so that I can take a photo at any time!’ 

Ryuji: ‘Which meansーー’

Yuta (excited): ‘Ah, right! It was the first time Ryu-chan and the others have seen this camera, wasn’t it? This one here is really amazing! It also has a long-running time and is fine even 15m into the water. The camera shoots beautifully in dark places too and its consecutive shooting consists of 15 shots per secondーー’

Ryuji: ‘Stop!’ 

Yuta (shocked): ‘Eh?’ 

Ryuji: ‘Listen, Yuta. Why do you think Tsubasa is here at our place?’ 

Yuta: ‘Why….. Ah! Sorry, sorry! Now that I think about it, it was about work.’ 

Yuta: ‘It was a sunscreen commercial with Massu, if I’m not wrong? Please don’t feel bothered by me and continue talking. I will wait here for ten minutes!’ 

Ryuji: ‘So, you mean we should end this talk in ten minutes?’

Tsubasa: ‘Fufu, we will do our best.’ 

Yuta: ‘Ehehe, thanks, Tsubasa-chan ♪.’ 

Ryuji: ‘Wait a minute, Tsubasa, aren’t you lenient toward Yuta?’ 

Yuta: ‘It’s okay for Ryu-chan to be toward me as well, you know?’

Ryuji: ‘Haa….. Anyways, could you stay quiet for ten minutes.’

Yuta: ‘Yeーs!’

Part 3

ーAnother day.ー

Tsubasa: ‘Thank you for the photo shoot, Yuta-kun.’ 

Yuta: ‘Likewise, Tsubasa-chan!’ 

Yuta: ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Without thinking I kept talking with the cameraman.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘We still have time, so it’s fine. More importantly, what is the matter?’ 

Yuta: ‘Mmh, I was just taught a way to take photos. Until now, I shot everything in auto mode, but after all the trouble I want to try various things out.’

Yuta (blushes): ‘It’s interesting how completely different the feeling of taking a picture is just by changing the settings a bit, like the exposure* or aperture**…… It’s difficult to remember them, but I want to try studying the settings more ♪.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘This sounds quite professional…..! I’m also looking forward to what kind of photos Yuta-kun will take from now on.’

Yuta: ‘Ehehe, thanks! When I can take a photo I’m content with then I also want to take one of Tsubasaーー’

Yuta: ‘......Hm? Wasn’t there a raindrop just now?’ ___

Yuta: ‘Waah, a rain shower!? Tsubasa-chan, let’s go somewhere with a roof!’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Y-Yes!’ ___

Yuta: ‘Phew….. Good thing that we were able to find a place to take shelter from the rain. Are you alright, Tsubasa-chan? Aren’t you cold?’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Thank you for asking. I got a little bit, but I’m fine. Shall we take shelter here for some time until the shower abates?’ 

Yuta: ‘Let’s do so. It was so sunny a moment ago that the rain startled me.’ 

Yuta (smiles): ‘Yet….. Sudden rain is a little exciting, isn’t it? How do I say, it’s like a drama seriesーー’

Tsubasa: ‘Yuta-kun? ….. Is something wrong?’ 

Yuta (blushes): ‘Photo chance, Tsubasa-chan!’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Photo chance?’

Yuta: ‘Yeah, the camera comes into play!!’ 

ーshutter button noiseー

Yuta: ‘Waah, look, look! Even the raindrops can be taken beautifully!!’

Tsubasa: ‘Amazing…..! It’s taken so clearly.’ 

Yuta: ‘The cameraman taught me that when we talked. He said that when shooting moving objects it’s best to increase the shutter speed.’ 

Yuta (excited): ‘Such a glittering feeling….. I want to try shooting more!’ 

ーYuta runs off.ー

Tsubasa: ‘P-Please wait. Yuta-kun, you will get wet.’ 

Yuta: ‘This much is fine! Since it’s waterproof, it won’t break even if it gets wet ♪.’ 

Tsubasa: ‘It’s not about the camera, if Yuta-kun gets wet it will be troublesーー’ 

Yuta (blushes): ‘Ehehe~, I’m so glad I carried the camera with me!’ 

Yuta: ‘It’s like Tsubasa-chan said. Thanks!’ 

Tsubasa: ‘Ah…..’ 

ーYuta runs further away.ー

Yuta: ‘I’ll shoot over here for a bit. And Tsubasa-chan waits there!’

Tsubasa: ‘Y-Yuta-kun…..!’

Yuta: ‘Alright, let’s take more great pictures~♪. Keep on coming, rain~!’ 

END _________________ 

* Exposure (露光・ろこう): Photo Exposure. ー “Exposure is one of the most fundamental photography terms. When you take a picture, you press the shutter button to open a camera’s aperture, and light streams in, triggering a response from a sensor. Exposure is the amount of light that reaches your camera’s sensor, creating visual data over a period of time.[....]” [Source: adobe.com]

** Aperture (絞り・しぼり): Here it refers to the camera’s aperture. ー “Aperture refers to the opening of a lens's diaphragm through which light passes. It is calibrated in f/stops and is generally written as numbers such as 1.4, 2, 2.8, 4, 5.6, 8, 11 and 16. [.....]” [Source: nikonusa.com]

[armallo-and-roul]

“Just Because”

Starring Roul and Ia ( @ia-bi-tia ) enjoy!

*BUZZ BUZZ* It was 2 am when Roul heard his phone go off, waking him in a daze. I’ll just ignore it. No one needs me rn. But apparently someone did, for the texts turned into a phone call. Roul sloppily reached for his phone, momentarily blinded by the bright blue light against the pitch black room. After his eyes adjusted, he realized it said Ia and the cute selfie they took for his contact picture of them was up on the screen. Failing to swipe the answer the first time, he quickly swore before getting it the next time. “Hello Ia, is everything alright?” Roul half mumbled into the phone.

More under the cut because wow I wrote a lot.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Woul. Let’s go stargazing on the dorm roof!!” He could easily hear Ia’s energy and apparent lack of feeling tired. “Why?” Ia excitingly answered back “just because.” He hated to tell them no, but damn he was tired. “I’m already in bed, baby. Why don’t you just come over and cuddle up against me. We’ll watch a vid of stars instea-“ but Ia had already interjected with “NO! I WANNA SEE THEM IRL. With myyy star.” Ia poured as much sweetness as possible into their voice. “Alright, baby. By the time you get here I should be ready-“ But the door was already opening, Ia scurrying inside. Roul let out an impressed gasp as he turned his lamp on. “You little gremlin!! You knew I’d say yes. Get over here.” He finished with a playful grunt, patting his bed. He saw them happily bite their tongue and hurry over, leaning in to give him a kiss. He sat up in the bed to wrap his arms around their slim waist. “C’mon sleepy head!!! Those stars won’t be there forever!! Don’t make me get your clothes” Ia went over to his wardrobe. Roul knew what they were about to do as they turned their head to him, mischief plain as day on their face. He quickly bounded out of bed and hurried over to it, saving his clothes from being tossed out if they had to pick his outfit. “You really know how to get me to do anything, don’t you?” Ia wrapped their arms around him, thrumming. “Uh huhhhh!!! I sure do. Oh no not that. This! And this! And this!” Roul looked at them, confused. “Why does my outfit matter if we’re stargazing?” Ia danced their fingers over Roul’s bare chest. “Just because.” He laughed lightly, shaking his head and going along with them. After he was dressed and hair fixed, he grabbed his Diana camera before being pulled out the door with Ia.

They climbed the staircase hand in hand until they reached the top, Ia quickly blocking the door with their slight frame. They sure are acting different tonight. “Okay, bunny boy, I may have lied about wanting to stargaze “just because”. I wanted to surprise youuuuu.” Roul was definitely confused until Ia opened the roof access door. On part of the roof was a topless gazebo of sorts, strung with countless lights twinkling in the dark. In the middle was a tarp covering something lumpy. “Oh fuck hold on.” They darted over, ripping off the tarp to reveal very pretty cushions, pillows, and blankets. “Ia, sweetie, this is beautiful. Did you do all this for us?” Ia laughed, shoulders raising as they scurried back to him. “Oh no, I’m too scrawny to manage that! Some of the art kids had photography sessions up here. And I just happen to be friends with this installations owner. They said as long as we don’t destroy it AND replace the tarp, we could use it for a couple hours. SO COME ON!!” Ia tugged at Roul’s arm.

“So this is why you wanted me to wear nice clothes. I thought you were just bored and wanted us to dress up.” Ia nodded along. “That’s believable. But no, we’re going to take some fucking cute ass pictures because we’re a cute ass couple and the world needs to KNOW!!” Roul let out a small gasp. “You. You said the c-word.” Ia looked at him quickly, confused. “I didn’t call anyone a cunt.” Roul shook his head as he pulled them into an embrace. “No, you called us a couple.” They had been PLENTY intimate for the weeks they’d known each other, but neither had made it official, until now. Ia’s mouth went wide. “I guess I did say couple.. do... you wanna make things official? IT’SOKAYIFYOUDONTWANTTO. I’LLUNDERSTAND-“ Roul placed a finger to their lips, calming them. “I would be more than happy to make things official and call you my partner, and I your boyfriend.” He pulled them into a kiss, letting physical touch replace what they may have been unable to put into words. After their kiss broke, Ia let out a wild giggle. “I’m dating an absolute huuuuUUUUuuunk.” Roul laughed in unison with them, before pulling them into another kiss.

“Okieee there’s a tripod we can set your phone in and take these cute pics! You lay down so I can test where to put the phone.” Once Ia got the frame adjusted, they nestled into the pillows and cushions up against Roul. They did a multitude of poses together, some serious, some cute, some fun. In addition, they took some singles as well. “I have an idea hehe..” Ia leaned into Roul and unbuttoned his shirt. Enjoying Ia on them so much, Roul only just then noticed Ia had worked off all clothes except for his undies. “You sure do quick work of me, baby.” Roul wanted more, but Ia pulled away, going to the phone.

“C’mon hunky boy, give me some steamy poses for when you’re not with me.” Never to disappoint them, Roul arched himself amongst the pillows in a couple arrangements. He could only hope they turned out sexy and not silly. He was also very thankful it was summer and not cold. “Alright, now it’s your tur-“ Ia descended upon him, kissing him wildly as he (gently) tore off their clothes. (He had ripped a shirt once and felt terrible.) Eventually, the kisses slowed, giving Roul a chance to man the camera, getting some splendid shots of Ia. They were well versed in seductive photos. Roul received them regularly, and they were much more artful than the ones he sent in return. Their final series of photos were them together, sans clothing.

After they agreed they were finished, they redressed and resumed cuddling. “I’m sure the stars looked lovely while we were up here hehe. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get to see them.” Ia said as Roul pulled them both up. “Let’s reset everything and head back down stairs, baby.” Ia let out a whimper, but agreed. They replaced the tarp and unplugged the lights. Once they were out, the glittering night sky was easily viewable. “Oh wow, look at them all.” Remembering his Diana, Roul quickly attached it to the tripod, readied it, and opened its shutter. “Okay, my phone will go off when to close the shutter. For now we can enjoy Earth’s beauty in peace.”

Ia shook against Roul excitingly as they stared up at the night sky. “That’s the big dipper and then the little dipper. The little dipper is actually part of another constellation but it’s harder to make out... “ they continued on until Roul’s phone buzzed. He closed the shutter and wound to the next exposure. Ia picked up where they left off, educating Roul on stars and all the wonders of the night sky. They soon realized Roul was only looking at the sky part of the time, most of it he was gazing at Ia. “Heyy now I’m not the night sky!” Roul chuckled and wrapped them close to him. “No, but you’re my star. You’re all I want to look at.” They buried their face into his chest, semi muffled, they said “You’re my star tooo.” They hugged tight for a couple more minutes. “Ia, baby, I’m so glad you wanted to go star gazing, ‘just because’.”

[monstersandmaw]

Male merman x male reader (nsfw) - Mermay Story #2

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well, plot happened amid my planned porn. Oh well! Here's 7692 words for you! It’s been up on Patreon on early release. My lovely patrons have just been told who’s up next, so if you want to know, and more importantly be involved in the next poll and get your sticker and reward when I hit 100 patrons, head on over to Patreon and sign up! 

Anyway, here's Connor. Light warnings for alcohol and the after-effects of a painful breakup. And... uh... two tentacle cocks. *shrugs*

___

Boxes.

Dozens of badly packed, disorganised, straining-at-the-seams cardboard boxes filled your new small seaside cottage, some marked, others not, all hastily packed, and the thought of dealing with them at the tail end of a long day was just… overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, you simply shut the front door behind you, with its cheery red paint peeling slightly under the influence of many a winter storm, and set off down the quayside with the only thing you’d not even packed away for the move: your camera.

It was your faithful workhorse, a chunky, veritable beast, and it earned you your living, so there was no way you’d risk packing it away in anything other than its soft, protective case for the move. It had sat beside you in the van as you’d driven it down the winding, cobbled streets of the old town of Starfall Springs, heading for your new home. And now as you set out into the spring evening, the pavements gleaming in the wake of a sudden shower, it hung around your neck, the familiar weight a comfort in the constant flux and chaos of moving house.

Seagulls whirled and wheeled overheard in crazy, lazy circles, and the constant lap and slap of the sea against the harbour wall and the hulls of the little pleasure and fishing crafts moored in the weedy harbour formed a constant backdrop to your evening walk.

Groups of locals gathered at the edge of the town to watch the sunset and stretch their legs after work or before dinner.

A minotaur’s hearty laugh made you look round, and you saw a blue roan centaur talking with the tiniest goblin you’d ever seen. She was barely three feet tall, and was standing on a bench to talk to the centaur, but she had him laughing and tossing his head with a very equine delight all the same.

A couple of gnoll cubs scrapped and snarled on the playground just set back from the harbour road, and a shy looking werewolf cub looked on in awe and longing.

You documented the light and the angles, but it was the stack of lobster pots, with their woven, birdcage appearance, that snagged your eye and drew you away from the more obvious spots towards the quieter shadows of the harbour.

Raising your camera to your eye, you tweaked the shutter speed as the light changed, and adjusted the focus with a subtle twist of your wrist.

Behind the network of the crisscrossing lines of the lobster and crab pots, the surface of the sea formed a calm, beaten bronze backdrop, gilded by the sinking sun, the tiny waves like hammer marks in a sheet of polished metal. You lost yourself for a moment, just staring out at it with boats bobbing and the waves nudging against the slimy stone of the harbour wall.

Breaking that magical surface, a figure appeared in the water for a moment, and you adjusted the focus instinctively, framing them as they breached the surface. The figure was one of the merfolk who lived in the area, and you almost regretted taking the photo without their knowledge. This was not a wildlife shoot after all, and despite the lithe, muscular tail, they were no mere fish. You’d worked with a rough and tumble tiger shark mer out on a shoot in the tropics the previous year, but aside from her, you’d had little contact with them. And every shoal and pod was different, especially in their attitudes towards humans. Some were chilled and helpful towards humans, while others were shy and reclusive, and there were those that were even predatory.

You assumed that here in Starfall Bay, the merfolk would be at least tolerant of humans. How tolerant of paparazzi humans they would be was a different matter, and you lowered your camera.

This mer was clearly enjoying the evening sun as much as the landfolk who strolled along the promenade. They rolled onto their back and you saw a long, lean, grey-blue tail rising up to balance them and hold them at the surface as they spread their arms and floated there like a snoozing sea otter; except this ‘sea otter’ had the lower half of a creature as lean and streamlined as a shark, or perhaps a marlin. This was a predator.

Your feet took you, almost without your realising it, towards the end of the harbour wall, and as you neared the final few yards of the curving stone cob, you felt a wild and bold urge sweep through you. You sat down on a rusty old cleat and dangled your feet off the edge, well clear of the waves, but it was obvious that you were watching the mer.

After no more than a minute, they saw you. Long black hair trailed in the water, and sharp, wet cheekbones glimmered in the sinking sun. A lopsided grin flashed, and they flipped over and swam a little closer. “Enjoying the show?” came the question in a husky, rich tenor voice.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you said.

“Sure. Not been this close to a mer before?” he said playfully, and in a flash of his powerful tail, he was mere metres from your dangling feet. If he’d wanted to, he could have darted up and yanked you into the water. The thought gave you a strange thrill. Instead, he floated there and looked up at you with dark eyes glittering.

“Just once,” you said carefully.

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at you. Gods, but he was handsome. He had one of those faces that could have been painted by an Old Master and hung in a gallery somewhere; all sharp angles that caught the light perfectly, and framed by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair. You’d have loved to have taken his photo in that moment, with the light playing so beautifully on his features. He had a row of pointed teeth too, like a shark. He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“She was a tiger shark mer,” you said, without elaborating further. Let him infer what he chose from that.

The mer grinned broadly, showing off all those pretty white teeth. “You like us dangerous I see…”

You snickered at that and leaned back on your hands, your camera resting on your chest. “She was helping me with a job.”

The mer turned from playful to curious in a heartbeat. “What kind of job?”

You waggled your DSLR at him. “Photography. We were trying to film green sea turtles for a program on endangered species, and she was one of the mer who guarded the reserve where they’re being protected.”

“Sweet,” he said. “Nice to see our two species actually working together for a change.” A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice, but you let it slide.

“I know. We both had a blast doing it.”

He grinned and then the smile slipped from his face and he turned away, webbed hands waving slightly in the clear water of the harbour to keep himself above water.

“You… ok?” you asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate. All the fun seemed to have gone out of him, like the sparkle of a bubble suddenly pricked and burst. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. He dipped beneath the surface and raked his clawed fingers through his long hair, scraping it back off his handsome face.

“What are you doing here in Starfall Springs?” he asked after a moment. “No endangered species here. Unless you’re documenting humans, that is…” he added with a wry smile. “Not too many of those here…”

“I actually just moved here,” you said gently, hoping that whatever it was that had darkened his mood would pass as swiftly as a scudding cloud.

He turned and looked directly at you. “Really?” he said. “Why did you settle on this place?”

You shrugged. “The lady I’m renting from had really good rates, and I want to expand my personal portfolio,” you said, camera in hand. “The landscape round here is amazing, particularly the coast.”

He smiled. “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. “If you head slightly north there’s this huge sandy bay with enormous rock arches, and sometimes you can find fossils in the cliffs.”

“Sounds great,” you said, eyes going wide.

He paused. “I could show you if you like?” he said after a moment.

Your brows knitted. “You serious?”

He grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean… you don’t exactly know me…?”

Again, the mer shrugged, a twinkle coming back to his eyes that made you lick your lips subconsciously. “So?” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. “Anything to put off unpacking all the boxes from the move…”

He laughed, a sound like sunlight on still water, and you found yourself beaming back at him.

“Ok, meet me tomorrow at 10am on the old bridge into town.”

“Wait, what?”

He simply grinned and disappeared with a flick of his tail, leaving you with about a million questions and no one to ask.

The next morning you made your way through the winding old streets of Starfall Springs and hurried towards the old bridge. You were wearing your usual ‘photography-ramble’ clothing - namely a nondescript and slightly nerdy t-shirt, and scruffy jeans - and the day was fast warming up. The bridge was empty when you arrived, but you checked the time and realised you were fifteen minutes early anyway.

You leaned your body against the ancient stones of the wall and peered over the edge. The water rushed down, clear and quick, from the eponymous springs above the town, and swept away into the harbour and out to sea. The way the water weed danced in the current was mesmeric, and, yes, incorrigible as ever, you whipped your camera out for a closeup of the textures and play of light on the water. It rippled, and yet was smooth as blown glass, and it caught your attention so fully that you almost didn’t notice the person approaching you until he came to a halt right beside you and leaned his backside against the wall and laughed, folding his arms across his slender chest.

You jumped, almost dropping your camera in surprise, though luckily the neck-strap earned its keep and saved the camera from a plummet to a soggy doom below (and not for the first time). You turned and had been about to scowl disapprovingly at the young man, both for invading your personal space quite so closely, and for interrupting you mid-photo, but the words died on your tongue when you recognised the handsome figure a second later. You knew your jaw was hanging open in shock, but you couldn’t wipe the stupid expression from your face.

The mer - who now had legs and clothes - simply tipped his head back, his long, blue-black hair tied in a low, scruffy bun at the nape of his neck, and laughed. “Oh man,” he said, eyes watering. “You should see your face.”

“But… how?” you faltered.

“Brackish mer,” he said. “We can shift at will. Though I still find these fuckers… weird,” he said, slapping one lean, skinny, denim-clad thigh with the palm of his hand. He wore a plain grey t-shirt and nondescript, slightly baggy jeans which rode invitingly low on his narrow hips. Your mouth went dry and you looked away.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” you finally said.

“I’m Connor, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to you. His fingers bore traces of webbing between them, stretching between the first knuckles of his fingers. Another reminder that although he walked on human legs, he was not, in fact, the same species. Your eyes darted to his neck and, sure enough, you saw three faint, almost scar-like, lines where his gills should be. Or perhaps they were still there but had closed over for his time on land. Merfolk anatomy was still very much a mystery to you.

You shook his hand as you introduced yourself by name, and felt how cool his skin was against yours. His grip was strong, his hands hard and smoothly callused. You wondered fleetingly what they’d feel like on your body. Fuck. Not helping.

Even in this new human form, he still had his row of pointed, predatory teeth, of which you were granted a beautiful view when he hitched his lips up into a lopsided grin and said, “Ready?”

You nodded mutely and allowed him to lead you through the town towards the northern side. A wide road led out of Starfall Springs, and Connor talked a mile a minute about everything as you passed it. He pointed out the marketplace on your left, and added, “I sell my catches there on Fridays.”

“You mean… you’re…”

“A fisherman,” he said. “Yes. There’s literally nothing, save for maybe another marlin mer, that can out-swim me. Even the tuna. I work with a team of open-water fishermen. We catch tuna and other fish and bring ‘em to market once a week. Sometimes we’re out for longer though.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a month or even six weeks sometimes? Depends on what we want to catch.”

“Do many of your kind do that sort of work? Are the rest of your crew merfolk?”

Connor shook his head. “Nah. It’s just me with the fish-tail on the team. And… most of my folks just keep to themselves, you know? They don’t get why I like humans and landfolk so much, and even though they can shift, they don’t.”

You tilted your head and snatched a sidelong look at him as you walked. He was lean and clearly very fit, with no sign of being puffed or overly warm despite the growing heat of the summer day. You on the other hand were getting distinctly warm under the collar, though you weren’t sure if it was the sun or the presence of the gorgeous merman walking beside you that was causing the reaction. You had your suspicions, though you kept those firmly to yourself.

Connor caught the look you gave him and tossed you another carefree grin. “Not quite sure what you’re thinking, but I’ll take a wild guess. Not all merfolk can shift, you know? And not many can shift the way we do. The more we do it, the easier it gets. Though it still hurts like a bitch.”

“What’s so fascinating about us? I mean, why do you do it?” you asked. As you did so, you caught sight of a butterfly sunning itself on an old, stone mile-marker and paused to focus your camera on it. The two of you had come to the edge of the town now, and the rolling countryside slid away from you in a series of gentle, undulating slopes adorned with orchards and vineyards to the north west, and the coastal road slid away to the north east.

All the while you snuck closer to the butterfly, Connor stayed silent and still on the road behind you, and when you’d got so close you could see the feather-like mosaic of colours on the butterfly’s wings through the view-finder, you snapped some shots, checked them reflexively, and then pulled back and blushed slightly to find him staring at you.

“What?” you challenged gently.

Connor only grinned and said, “Nothing. I just… wouldn’t have noticed that. You’ve got a quick eye, you know?”

You answered his gesture with one of your own. “Comes with the career, I guess.”

He led you off down a rugged footpath, having left your question about the fascination of landfolk unanswered, and as you passed by a battered-looking hut on your right, nestled among tall, flowering grasses dotted here and there with poppies, he said, “A friend of mine lives there. He’s a mer too, but he actually spends most of his time on land. Fuck though, you should see him as a mer. He’s got this big orca tail and these gorgeous markings…” he sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush,” you blurted.

Connor barked a laugh. “I did,” he admitted. “As a teenager, I crushed so hard on him that I forgot how to swim once and crashed straight into a wreck. He never let me live it down. We actually dated for a while when we were a bit older. Didn’t work out, but we’re still close.”

“That’s nice,” you mused, staring at the ramshackle cottage covered in honeysuckle and creeping ivy. “My exes don’t tend to want anything to do with me.”

“Is that a human women thing, or…?”

“Men,” you said absently, raising your camera to your eye to snap a quick shot of a passing seagull soaring just off the high cliffs below you.

“Oh,” he said, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at his shoes.

You smiled a soft, wonky smile, and continued in silence for a little bit, until the cove below opened up fully before you, and you gasped. “That’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Isn’t it?” He raised his hand, his bare, slender arms muscular and so inviting, and pointed at the rock arch at the end of the sweeping, sandy bay. “There are often fossils in that bit. You want to go take a closer look? See what we can find?”

His playful attitude was infectious, and the two of you were soon scrambling down the sandy, scree-slope path to the beach. At one point your soles slipped on the gravelly surface and you sat down hard on your backside with a grunt. Connor, three paces ahead of you on the narrow path, turned abruptly and snorted at the sight of you. “You alright?” he asked. When you nodded, a bit winded, he held out his hand again, and you accepted it without question and let him yank you back onto your feet.

The tide was creeping slowly out, leaving a swathe of dark, hard, wet sand behind, and the beach was littered with little shells and other gifts that the retreating water had left behind. Connor drifted away towards the waves and began to toss bits of debris at passing gulls, never close enough to hit, but accurately enough to make them wheel away, shrieking indignantly, which only made the mer laugh and yell at them.

In the short few hours you’d been with him, you’d come to love that laugh. His voice was husky and rough, like the rasp of dune marram grass disturbed by the wind, and his dark hair glimmered with a hint of blue in the strong sunlight. But there was something else to him that spoke of hidden currents beneath the surface. In moments when he thought you were otherwise occupied, the laughter died in him and a hollow sadness crept in at the edges.

It felt as though he were trying to forget something, trying to put something behind him, and he was focusing on you as an excuse to do it.

You barely knew him, so you didn’t press, but as you neared the cliffs and he wandered over to them, running his fingertips over the jagged, crumbling surfaces of the sandstone, you watched him more closely. He walked recklessly close to the base of the cliffs, picking at flaky portions of the rock until a rain of bits and dust scattered to the sandy beach at his feet.

“Connor?” you asked after watching him for a while.

“Mm?” The mer did not look up.

“What are you doing?”

He paused but still didn’t turn round. “Looking for fossils. Sometimes you can find ammonites and belemnites and…” he trailed off when he turned and saw the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I mean… why are you doing this with me? You saw some human taking photos at the harbour yesterday, and the next thing you’re volunteering to take me fossil hunting along the coast.”

“Can’t I want to do something nice for a handsome stranger?” he asked, a slight bite to his playful tone.

You simply looked at him flatly. “Sure you can,” you said. “But…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. Sections of his dark hair had come loose in the stiff breeze, and they whipped across his pale face and into his dark eyes.

You nodded. “Sorry I pushed,” you muttered, turning away and walking along the cliffs for a bit, hoping that a moment of privacy would give him a chance to recover.

The mood was different after that. The wind seemed to have a chill to it that you’d not noticed earlier, the calls of the seabirds almost mocking now, and as Connor slouched along the wet sand, he scuffed his heels and kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m hungry,” he said after perhaps half an hour of walking along the beach. “You want to head back to town?”

“Sure.”

The house martins’ high, trilling calls filled the air above as they darted in and out of their nests in the eaves of the old buildings with their terracotta roves and sandstone walls. You watched them and tried to snap some shots of them with your long lens. Connor watched you curiously and when you turned back to him he smiled softly, some of the warmth returning to his face. His skin was pale and smooth as porcelain, save for a few scars here and there, his cheekbones high and sharp, and his lips… there was something inviting about his soft lips. They curled slightly at the corners, making you think of stolen kisses and secret smiles.

He walked with you back to your house in near silence, but when you asked him inside, he shook his head. “Nah, I should to get back to the sea. Too much time on land isn’t good for me. Not just… physically…”

“Right. Well, thanks for today… for showing me around a bit. I had fun.”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, hands still in his pockets. “Figured it’d be a nice thing to do, you know? Since you don’t know anyone here yet.”

“I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to meet up again some time…”

A little light kindled in his dark eyes and he flashed you a sharp-toothed grin. “Alright,” he said. “I will. And I look forward to seeing your photographs in the gallery sometime soon…”

You answered him with a shy smile of your own and watched him walk away down the narrow, cobbled street, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the road directly in front of him.

After a day which had turned out in an entirely different way from the one you had imagined for yourself when you’d woken up, you settled down later that evening, having edited all your photos of the trip, and sank onto the old, squashy, comfy sofa, and sighed. There were still boxes everywhere, but now, with at least a fleeting connection made, you felt more tethered to the place. The task of unpacking didn’t seem so daunting, somehow. It seemed… worth it.

A bashing at your door just after ten o’clock frightened the living daylights out of you.

You stood and cautiously went to the front door, heart hammering in your chest, almost louder than the pounding on the wood. No one here knew you yet, and there was no call for anyone to be thudding away at the little red door at this time of night, surely?

Peeking through the tiny, warped glass window, you saw a pale face and frowned. It looked like Connor, but he’d said he was going back to the sea.

You opened it and found him listing heavily to one side, like a ship floundering on a reef, leaning all his weight against the thick wall of your cottage, his hair hanging loose into his face. “Shit,” he said when he saw your eyes wide with surprise. “Shit, I shouldn’t… Fuck.”

His words were thick and slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Connor? What happened?”

“So… I didn’t go back after all,” he said, swaying again and staggering as his body tried to adjust and correct. “Fuck.”

“Here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping your arm under his to help him inside. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. You’d dealt with drunk friends before, and manoeuvred him easily enough onto the sofa you’d just vacated.

“Walking is fucking hard,” he commented when you were halfway there. “I mean… I can just about manage at the best of times, but fuck me… I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s not why I came here. You are gorgeous though. But… ah… fuck.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” you smiled, easing him down onto the sofa and taking a look at the greenish tinge to his cheeks. “Hey, you gonna throw up?”

“Maybe?” he said. Then, the more he thought about it, the greener he got.

“You sit tight. I’ll find a bowl or something. And a glass of water.”

When you came back, he was leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he said, and you instinctively shoved the bowl into the space in front of him. Just in time.

His body heaved and you rested the bowl on his knees while you held his hair back out of the way. You’d done this for girls at college who’d had hair as long as his, but you’d never done it for a guy. Somehow it felt different. More intimate, despite the fact that he was still practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say again between heaves.

It wasn’t long before he recovered enough for you to be able to leave him and deal with the bowl. When you returned, you found him, ashen-faced, sipping the water and looking frankly about as miserable as a wet raccoon. He even had the shadows under his eyes too, for sure.

“What happened?” you asked tentatively, sitting down beside him.

“Got thinking,” he said without opening his dark eyes.

“About?”

“Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” you asked, instantly knowing you were going to regret bringing this topic up.

He swallowed. “My ex.”

“Ah.”

“I had fun today, you know?” Connor said, casting you a careful, sideways look through squinted eyes. His dark gaze was still unfocused and glassy, but the pain in his eyes was clear as day. “It was nice. But it made me think…”

“Yeah, that can happen,” you said.

“He was a human too,” he said. “Is. He’s still around. Doing fine. Moved on to someone easier to be with, I guess. Someone who doesn’t need to sprout a fucking tail and go back to the sea. Hey, you know what he said? Right before he broke up with me?”

This was not a healthy line of conversation, but for now, you allowed it, sensing that he needed someone new with whom he could talk this through. He’d probably exhausted his friends with it already. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘you’ve got a nice ass, Connor, when you’re a human. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck a fish!’”

“Thats… wow, that’s callous.”

“Right? I’m not even a fish! Mer aren’t fish. We’re not mammals either. Fuck knows what we’re classed as. I don’t even care. But you can definitely fuck a mer. That’s for sure.”

“So, tell me then… how does alcohol affect mer?”

“Can’t you see?” he said sourly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, but… you gonna be ok?”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“Why didn't you go back to the sea earlier? Have you been drinking all this time?”

Connor shook his head and then rapidly looked like he regretted it. He groaned and sat back on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed once again. “I walked up to the springs for a bit. I’m not… I’m not normally like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I don’t normally get drunk.”

The sadness in his tone struck you deeply. “I get it,” you said. “Breakups suck.”

“He sucks,” Connor retorted petulantly. “Ah, fuck. I should go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Not when… not… not after…” he broke off, shaking his head. He tried to stand but his knees gave way a little and he veered sideways.

You shot up to catch him before he face-planted onto the floor and, laughing gently, you laid him back down on the sofa. “You stay right there,” you said, helping him to lie down. “Sleep it off. Let me grab a blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyelids already drooping.

By the time you returned with a blanket from a box upstairs, he was sound asleep. He was going to have one wicked hangover in the morning though.

You took his shoes off for him, surprised by how cold his feet were despite the socks and the temperature of the room. Maybe merfolk just ran cold; you recalled the coolness of his palm from earlier and shrugged. Somehow, he was still gorgeous, even pass-out drunk on your sofa.

You left the, now clean, bowl within hurling distance and hoped he wouldn’t need it, and made sure he was lying comfortably on his side with a cushion beneath his head. He didn't wake as you lifted him gently and slid the small cushion under his cheek, but you were surprised when he let out a deep, sleepy moan at your touch.

“Sleep well,” you said as you headed upstairs, leaving him with a large glass of water.

Morning came and you stretched groggily. It was only as you thought about taking yourself in hand to ease out the tension of your morning wood that you remembered that you were not alone in the house. Lying there for a little while longer, thinking about Connor and the sharp, chiselled planes of his face, did not help matters, and eventually you relented and closed your fist around your cock. You gasped at the rush of pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all til you were spilling into your hand, thinking about what it might be like to be with the merman. Guilt rushed in to replace the elation of your release when you remembered that he was not long into the first stages of post-breakup hell, and thinking about him that way was probably not the most appropriate thing in the world.

After a perfunctory clean up, you dressed and headed downstairs. The moment you reached the bottom of the staircase, you froze. The sounds drifting from the living room were not the sounds of morning pleasure. In fact, at a faint little whimper, you shot forwards into the room and saw that Connor was lying on his back on the sofa, writhing weakly and gasping.

“Connor?”

“Help,” he rasped, clawing at the blanket. As it slid slowly off him, you realised with a jolt of shock that the pile of clothing on the floor was his discarded jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Your eyes shifted back to his legs and you gasped. His skin was in the process of fusing together, turning dark and shadowy, his legs pressed together and clearly trying to become a tail.

“What do I do?” you asked helplessly. “Connor…”

He wheezed and jutted his head back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His hands were clawed now, the webbing stretching right up to the tops of his fingers, and visible as he flexed and balled his fingers in obvious pain. He looked across the room at you with his large, dolorous eyes, and tried to smile. “I…” a long, rattling inhale followed, and when he was finally able to speak again, he added, “I should have gone back to the sea. I -” he broke off with a sharp cry as his legs fused into a tail and his skin darkened to the familiar grey-blue you’d glimpsed in the water. The fan of his tail spread across the far end of the sofa, looking strangely like crumpled tissue paper.

“You’re gonna be heavy,” you said, “But I could probably carry you to the harbour from here if you need to be in the water. It’s not far. Maybe only a hundred yards or so?”

“Would you?” he asked, gratitude surging in his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. In fact, you were the one worrying. He looked dried out, and probably the alcohol from the previous night wasn’t helping in the dehydration stakes. “C’mon. Let’s give it a go.”

You opened the front door and grabbed your keys before turning back to the merman who had now completed his transformation and was lying limply on the couch, breathing rapidly and shallowly. There was still a tight wheezing to his breaths, and you noticed how the gills on his neck had opened in a futile attempt to draw in more air.

“You good?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I will be. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it off but… I can’t stay ‘human’ on land for too long. I pushed it by staying last night.”

Connor’s pale cheeks flushed crimson as you stooped and slid your arms under his tail and around his torso. He immediately latched his arm around your neck, and you rose, staggering slightly.

“Fuck, you’re heavier than you look…” you grunted.

“Isn’t that romantic,” he quipped, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been an interesting time lately for you. And nothing says ‘getting to know a guy’ like carrying him ‘bridal style’ to the water and tossing him in… you know?”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “I knew you were a good’un when I first saw you.”

“No you didn’t,” you retorted, letting the front door slam shut behind you.

“You’re right. I just saw a good looking guy and thought I’d try and get into your pants to make me feel better. Happy now?”

“You’re not in my pants…” you pointed out, grunting again as you adjusted his weight.

“No, but I’m in your arms. That’s pretty close…” He turned serious and added, “But you deserve more than some rebound fuck… I’m… I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“I’m not,” you said. “My back might be tomorrow, but…”

Connor laughed again, and buried his face at your collarbone. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Let’s get you to the harbour first, and then we can talk about making up. Or out…”

His grin was broad and toothy and genuine, and it went some way to reassuring you that he’d be ok.

It was a long, hard slog to the harbour, but you made it and just pitched him over the wall so that he fell, undignified and flailing, into the harbour mouth with a disgruntled squawk that made you laugh. The splash of his landing got you all the way up the front, but you sat down on the edge of the wall as he circled a little in the water, drawing water through his parched gills, and then bobbed up at the surface again, looking sheepish.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands as he floated there in front of you.

“No problem,” you replied. “Seriously. I know what it’s like to go through a rough breakup. It’s shit. You seem like a good guy, and I’m happy to be here for you. I’d like to get to know you better anyway… regardless of what…  you know… might happen down the line. Or not.”

Connor’s smile was as broad and white as it had ever been. “Thanks. I… I’m not sure I deserve that, but thanks anyway.”

“Look, I’ll let you get sorted out for now, but if you’re free tomorrow, meet me at the cove with the fossils again? You don’t have to come on legs this time either.”

He nodded, seeming surprised at your last comment. “Alright. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Just before sunset?”

Connor nodded once more, and then disappeared in a flash of his tail as he sped away through the clear water of the harbour, out to the brackish waters of the estuary beyond the protective curve of the wall.

At sunset the following day, you had taken your shoes off and were enjoying the cool water with your jeans cuffed up when a splash further out to sea signalled the arrival of Connor. He looked brighter, healthier, and he powered up through the gentle, lapping surf and dragged his body up above the tide line to join you. “Hi,” he said, rolling onto his back and splaying his arms out at his sides like a starfish to recover his breath after the effort. “Fuck. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m not a complete drunken loser, I swear.”

“Like I said, I get it,” you said, standing beside him and staring out at the sun as it sank low above the horizon, heavy and as searing as a blacksmith’s coal over the water. You looked down at him then, and something began to thrum in you. You’d yet to see all of him like this, as he truly was, and he was even more beautiful than he’d been in his ‘human’ form. You hissed a soft curse to yourself, but he heard it and flashed a frown at you.

“What?”

“You’re… You’re stunning, Connor. I don’t know what your ex was thinking, but… you’re beautiful like this. Especially in this light.”

Connor blushed and looked away. Then, with a snort of laughter, he grabbed your ankle and knocked your knee out from behind you, sending you sprawling into the wet sand beside him. Your jeans soaked up the seawater instantly, and you gasped at the shock of the cold water.

He pulled you close and crushed a kiss against your lips before you had time to register it, and you found your body responding instantly. “Connor,” you panted, drawing back and finding his pupils fully dilated. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “I want you. Please…”

You ran your hands down his slender torso, to where his hips melted into the rough, pale skin of his shark-like lower half. The skin there was tough as fine sandpaper, and as you skimmed over his hips, he arched his spine and whimpered.

“Connor?”

“So good,” he mumbled. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You lavished attention on the transition point at his hips, and he was soon a writhing, squirming wreck, left beached high above the retreating tide. His tail flopped uselessly, and his clawed fingers raked furrows in the hard, wet sand. He bucked upwards into you and you found a slit swelling and opening in his lower body. It was slick and as you guided your fingers to it, running your fingertips around the hot, silky walls of the inside, he yelped and moaned, biting his lip and swearing. “Fuck, yes, there… fuck. Fuck!”

And as you slid your fingertips further inside the slit, you found that the puffy, smooth walls hid a delightful surprise. Not one, but two cocks began to swell inside, and as you ran your finger along the slick interior, a large tentacle-like cock slid free and writhed idly in the cool, evening air. The second cock, a little smaller but equally hard and eager, slipped free a moment later, and writhed beside it.

“Well,” you said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”

Connor smirked softly and raised his hips weakly. “Please…” His cocks were leaking already, and a line of pre-come hung between them from tip to tip.

“How could you not have been enough for anyone?” you mused aloud, growing painfully hard yourself. Your cock was soon straining at your boxers, and you ached to run it between his twin cocks and feel the slickness of his heat against your body. “Can I?” you asked, and he nodded instantly.

You took both of his cocks in one hand and pumped them gently, the way you’d have taken a human’s cock in hand when just starting out, warming up and teasing. Connor tipped his head back and moaned deliciously, exposing his pale throat to you as he tried to grind his hips up into your hand, seeking more contact, more friction… more.

“Please…” he gasped a moment or two later. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Anything, dammit,” he snarled, teeth on show. “Anything, just… it’s… it’s not enough… and… and I want to see you. Please, let me see you.”

“Just see?” you teased.

You were met with another growl and a row of white teeth.

“I’m not letting those pearly whites near my cock unless you grow some manners,” you snickered as you undressed, heedless that this was a public (if quiet) beach.

Once naked, you watched as Connor’s eyes drifted down your body to your hard cock and his pupils soared even wider. “Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…”

“Connor, I want… I want to… but…”

“My slit…” he said. “Fuck my slit. Please. I’m slick enough…”

You needed no more encouragement.

You straddled the merman, feeling the hard, rough skin of his shark-like tail between your thighs, before you leaned over him, lowering your hard cock towards his own. His two cocks were both weeping, the tentacle-like shapes twisting in the cold air, desperately seeking out heat and contact. When they found your own, painfully hard cock, they instantly began to coil around your length, gripping you with incredible strength. They were leaking and wet, slippery and searingly hot, and you felt your balls tighten at the way they twined around you.

You swore and Connor groaned as you rocked your hips between them. His two cocks spiralled around your own gripping you so tightly it stole your breath completely. You swore, head tipping forwards over him as sparks ignited along your spine. His clawed hands found your back and he raked delicate, red lines across your skin as you rutted into him.

Your tip hit the entrance of the slit which contained his two cocks, and he cried out as you entered him.

“You want me… to stop?” you asked, breathless.

He shook his head. “Fuck no. Keep going. That’s amazing…”

You slid into him and as you did, his cocks gripped you tighter. “I’m not gonna last much longer if…” one of his cocks coiled around your balls and slid towards the cleft of your cheeks. “Oh fuck, Connor, I’m.. That’s…”

“You don’t want me to?” he managed to whisper.

“Please,” you said. “I need you…

And with your cock now buried fully in his slick sheath, and with one of his cocks wrapped tightly around your shaft, you felt his other cock slip inside you. The intrusion wasn’t as painful as you’d though it was going to be, having had no preparation, but perhaps that was because of the shape of him, and because it was the slightly smaller cock that was sinking into your ass. The tip of it nudged suddenly against your prostate and you saw white.

His other cock clenched around your own, and as he hit you again and again in that bundle of nerves, you cursed, grabbed his shoulders, bowed your head, and as that heat surged inside you, you spilled all over his chest. A second or two later, while you were still twitching and convulsing through your own release, Connor found his peak and emptied himself over his own stomach, and inside you with a wild, high yell of pleasure.

You felt his release hit you deep inside as well, and after a few seconds, it began to slide from you as his second cock softened a little.

His whole body twitched and shuddered, his eyes had rolled closed, and his chest gleamed with sweat.

Eventually he came back to you, and his tentacle-like cock unravelled from around your own and you rolled off him into the wet sand beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his pale skin was flushed and heated with the exertion.

Connor reached clumsily across the space between you and ran his leathery palm over your stomach and up your chest to your neck where your heartbeat pounded. Limply, he rolled onto his side and kissed your throat, raking his teeth gently over your sensitive, flushed skin. “Gods, I came so hard…”

You snorted a smile back at him and he laughed, flopping back into the sand. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But… I’m willing to see where it goes, if you are?”

“You mean you’re happy to fuck a fish?” he asked bitterly.

You rolled your eyes. “I just did, didn’t I?”

Connor offered you a lopsided grin and met your eyes askance. “Yeah. You did. Did you like it?”

You eyed the mess you’d both made of his torso pointedly.

Connor gave a final smile and pushed himself upright. Your combined mess slid down his front and you watched as his cocks retreated back into the sheath with slow, deliberate pulses.

He caught you watching him and blushed crimson.

“What?” you asked.

“I… Nothing,” he said, still not meeting your eye.

“You really are beautiful,” you said.

“Even like this?” he said with a deliberate flick of his tail.

You scowled and sat up too, reaching out and taking the back of his head in your hand.

His hair was wet, and he tasted of the sea, but you didn’t care.

You kissed him hard, biting his lip and making him moan and his eyes roll shut again.

When you pulled back, you practically growled, “Especially like this, Connor.”

************************************

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[got7-markjinson]

A Christmas Carol: The Past

Summary: Invisible to those you watch, you are guided by three ghosts. The past, present and future, each of them helping you in your journey to open your heart to love.

A holiday collaboration written by: @got7-markjinson @parkhabits & @imdifferentshadesofpurple

**

The Past

Gif Source: @jaebeomsmullet​ (link)

[Prologue] - [The Past] - [Present, You] - [The Future With You]

**

Forgetting your dream the night before, you went on your usual day at work. You notice some of the workstations are still empty by the time you’re already halfway through your shift. Then glancing on your desk calendar, you noted the current date… Right, it’s already near the holidays. Most of your co-workers already filed for their holiday leave, and some might have opted to work from home. Everyone would return next year. But here you are, one of the few who still went to work as if it’s just a normal day.

As you were changing into more comfortable clothes when you got home that night, you heard your doorbell rang. Since you never gotten any notice from anyone about dropping by your place, you wonder who it could be. Living alone, the most common visits you got are either delivery guys or promotion guys. You peeped through the hole on your door, but you don’t see anyone there, so you turned around to go back to your room. It must’ve been a neighbor’s visitor mistakenly pressed your door bell. But as you were about to get in to your room, the doorbell rang again.

This time, you didn’t check the peephole and instead went straight to opening the door. And there to your surprise you saw a little girl standing. She was wearing a white dress with snowflakes glittering on the ruffles of her skirt. Her hair shining with golden lights as if she was wearing Christmas lights for a hair piece. You just looked at her in awe and without saying anything, she smiled and raised her hand, palm up to you. It wasn’t like she looks like she’s asking for a donation of some kind, so you just stood there in wonderment.

“I need you to come with me.”, she said, a familiar feeling radiates from her as you hear her voice.

“To where?”, normally you would think this is part of a scam and you would’ve been running to your phone and call the police but there was just something magical with the way the girl glowed in front of you that you don’t feel any threat from this encounter.

“Just take my hand.”, she urged.

You slowly pressed your hand on hers, and in a flash, your surroundings changed to that of a snowy street. You didn’t see the girl anywhere anymore and despite what you are wearing, you don’t feel the cold. You tried to reach for a crumple of snow only for your hands to pass through it. People walking about like they usually are and paid no attention to you.

“They don’t see me.”, you whispered to yourself.

You walked further down the street only to find one familiar face from the crowd. Your heart ached as you saw him. It was your first love, Jaebum.

Seeing his face untouched by time, his face like the first time you met, made you realized this was part of your dream last night, “…the past, present and future will help you”

“So, this is the past.” You concluded.

And as if watching a movie, you hear his voice as you watch the events unfold.

It was one cold winter night when you came into my life.

 It feels like it was too long ago, back when I was still a struggling photographer with no name to myself. I was barely making a living, working multiple part time jobs just to get by. I remember it was right after Christmas, I just got off a tiring day from work. I met up with our friends and it was there…

We met.

 “Yo man! What took you so long?”, Jackson asked as he stood up from the crowded table. He gave Jaebum a quick bump in the shoulders as they did their brotherly handshake.

“You know it gets busy at work during holidays.”, Jaebum shrugged.

“Psh! You should have taken a vacation for Christmas like us normal people.”, Jackson said motioning for Jaebum to sit down.

Jaebum just grinned. His friends knew his circumstance. Ran away from his family to chase after his dream. He was cut off from financial support and was forced to make a living for himself, while at the same time work towards being a professional photographer.

“Hey, Beom! Merry Christmas!”, Min greeted.

“Merry Christmas, Min-“, Jaebum greeted back and paused as his eyes fell on an unfamiliar face beside Min.

“Oh, is this the first time you see each other?”, Min asked, looking back and forth between you and Jaebum.

“Well, I have heard about him a lot.”, you say hesitantly and then you stood up and reached your hand to him. “It’s nice to finally put a face on the name. I’m Y/N!”

Jaebum wore the friendliest face he could muster. Hoping his energy wasn’t drained from all the work he did at the shop earlier that day. He shook your hand.

“Hi. Jaebum.” Short. Not that he doesn’t want to say anything more. It’s just that he became breathless all of a sudden.

Whatever it was that made him speechless, he blamed it to fatigue or probably the harsh cold weather. He would never admit it was due to what he felt when he touched your hand. It was like lightning struck him at that moment making his heart beat twice as fast.

After that day, you’ve been seeing him more frequently when you go out with your common friends. And each time, slowly, you’re getting to know him more. One day, even giving each other your contact numbers. And it started. During the course of the holiday break, you have been talking to each other non-stop.

It was at the end of the first day of your class for the new year when you were surprised to see him by the gates of your school. It was the first time you saw him alone. He was just standing there in all his glory, a wide grin on his face as he saw you approach.

“What are you doing here, weirdo? Stalking college girls?”, you teased.

“Just one college girl in particular.” He corrected and gave you that smile that made his eyes smaller than it already is.

Your heart skipped, looking up at him standing before you. You admit, he was charming. Very charming. And for the past weeks, he has charmed his way to your heart. You are now internally hoping he doesn’t see the blush on your cheeks. Hoping he doesn’t notice how you get affected from his words.

“Do you have time to hang out today?”, he asked, the sound of his voice pulling you down from the clouds.

You looked deep in his eyes, trying to guess what he meant. You didn’t want to get into conclusions and you wouldn’t dare to ask him directly. “I guess I can spare a few hours for you.”, you say.

It must’ve meant something. It was the first time you are hanging out alone together.

He drove you both to a hillside, just on a neighboring town. You got off first and take a quick look around. It was quiet. Sound of birds may be heard from afar. Most of what you see are green trees and tall grass and stray flowers. After you turned around, you were surprised to see him holding a camera.

“Are you going to take a picture of me?”, you joked.

“No.”, he answered. “I do landscape photography, not portraits.” You waited so you walk side by side. He glanced at you and added, “But I suppose I can, if you want to.” And he pressed the shutter of his camera when you’re not ready and laughed at your surprised expression.

After running after him and you hitting his arms a few times, he guided you to the top of the hill where he said the view will be better. He sat you on a shade, underneath a big oak tree while he sits and check a good shot of the sky. While he has his eyes up, you are looking over the countryside. You notice a river run on the other side of the hill, a few houses and a few townsfolk walking about, and you wonder if you would be content if you live in a place like this.

It was quiet, the wind blowing making you sleepy.

“I love taking pictures of the sky.”, he shares. “It never gets boring. Every picture is different. Regardless if you took the picture at the same place and at the same time of the day.”

After taking a few shots, and making a few small talks, you are now walking back down the hill. Back to where his car was park.

You didn’t notice how nervous he was at that moment. But during those quiet times, he has been collecting his courage, internally practicing what to say.

“Aside from the sky, there’s another one I never get tired of seeing.” He suddenly said.

You continue to walk, your eyes on your feet. Step by step down the hill. Being oblivious of everything, you suggested, “The ocean? So you wanted to go to the beach afte-“

“You.”

You stopped. And it was silence. Even when you turned to face him with a blank expression. You were silent.

“Uhmmm… so what I’m trying to say is-“, he rubbed the back of his neck.

And just like how the clouds parted to let the sun shine, he watches as your expression changes to a smile. Your lips curving slowly. Your face beaming as you ran up to where he stood, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down towards you. And you gave him a passionate kiss.

“What you’re trying to say is?”, you asked breathily after pulling away.

With a face flushed, he answered, “I love you.”

“Same.” You teased. With a grin on your face, you quickly pecked his lips.

“Same?”, he grinned back. “Tell me.”

You turned your back to him and skipped back to where the car is, laughing all the way.

“Y/N! Don’t be unfair!”, he ran after you, also laughing, catching your wrist and twirling you around to face him again.

“I love you back.”, you say, giving in.

It was the happiest day of my life.

After you graduated, you moved in together. Everything was going well, and you even got an offer for a promotion at work as long as you pass a presentation with your company’s board of directors. While he got an offer for an assistant photographer post to an acclaimed photographer. One of whom he has been looking up to for a while.

Days gone by where you would help him prepare his portfolios and he would help you with your presentation. You both were nervous and excited counting down to that day. You have been lacking sleep, until finally, in the morning of that long-awaited day, you collapse on the kitchen.

You woke up feeling a kiss on your lips. You opened your eyes seeing Jaebum lying in bed across from you. Your head was on top of one of his arms.

“Sorry to wake you up, you just looked so beautiful that made me want to kiss you.” he whispered.

You were quiet.

“Are you mad?”, he asked.

“How could I, when you’re saying things like that?”, you say in a raspy voice. “Did you make me breakfast?”

He chuckled from your response. Feeling a little relieved it sounded like you’re feeling better. “I actually wanted to, but you were sleeping on my arms and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“And yet you kissed me.”, you countered.

He laughed some more. “Fair enough. Should I make you breakfast now?”

You snuggled closer to him closing your eyes and burying your face on his chest. “No, not yet. Let’s stay like this for a while more.”

“Alright.” He kissed your forehead before enclosing his arms on you tighter.

In just a few seconds, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, you cried. You blew it. All the preparation you were doing, only to throw it away just because you didn’t take care of your health. And on top of that, you felt sorry for Jaebum. Abandoning a once in a lifetime opportunity just so he can take care of you. And yet you didn’t hear anything from him. He didn’t even blame you.

Feeling helpless, all you can do was cry. 

We were young and naive. Thinking we would overcome everything just by being together.

You never told him, but it has been difficult to look at him after that day. You would always feel guilty. After missing your presentation, you worked harder on your job. While avoiding Jaebum, you continued to work late nights.

Jaebum was still stuck in multiple part time jobs while still submitting portfolios to professional studios and photography firms. Thinking his hard work will pay off, hoping to get another break.

Time passes, and it was Christmas season yet again. You are both on your way to get groceries, walking hand in hand when you passed the town plaza. Seeing decorations being done on the street, Jaebum noticed the posters on the walls for a Christmas eve show.

He squeezed your hand to get your attention, “Let’s go and see the show, shall we?”

You didn’t know but he just wanted to spend time with you. He notices how you avoid talking about your future together, wherein you planned to have a little girl. You would talk about how she would look like, how Jaebum would spoil her a lot. He wanted to build that future with you. He wants to get you back to the way you were. Back to the girl he loved.

You followed his gaze towards the poster and saw the invite. “Sure. I guess I can request for an off on that date.”

“I hope it snowed on that day, too.”, he said excitedly. “So, we can watch the first snow fall together, right?”

“I hope so.”, your voice somehow didn’t mimic the same enthusiasm that he has.

You didn’t think about it further. You went about your ways on the following days, working until you forgot all about the promise.

You went inside your apartment that Christmas eve to find Jaebum sitting on the couch on the living room. It was dimly lit, with just the lamp on the study illuminating his face. It was the first time you saw that expression on him.

“Where were you?”, despite his dark expression, his voice was still soft.

“Jaebum, I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to switch my schedule and I got extended at work because-“

“Work, work, work. Is that all that’s important to you?”, He asks, cutting you off.

You were speechless. It really is the first time you saw him this way. First time you heard his voice this way. He has always been so perfect and calm and sweet to you. You supposed everyone has their limit, and this is his. Your boyfriend is human, after all.

Raising his voice, he poured his heart out. “It’s been getting harder for me to even see you sometimes, Y/N. I go home, and you were either asleep, or on your laptop or phone still focused on work. I work, too! I have three jobs, for fucking sake! But you have always been my priority. So, when am I going to be yours?”

His words hit you. And the day he chose you over his dreams came back to you. How his love was so pure. And how you realized, you couldn’t repay it. It was too much for you. Your heart sank. Here you are with a person who loves you with all his heart, and you can’t even give him a part of what he has already given you.

It was one cold winter night when you left.

You decided he deserved better, so you ended it. And as you left the house, he didn’t follow. Maybe it’s for the best, you tell yourself.

He never contacted you afterwards, though he has been hearing a lot of updates on how you were from your common friends.

It is now the present time. You see a matured looking Jaebum walking on the same plaza you walked during the last Christmas season you were together.

it’s Christmas season once again.

Seeing this place being decorated for the show made me think of you again.

Or maybe it’s just because of the atmosphere? I don’t know how I feel, it’s been years.

You follow him and when he got back to his apartment, you saw him scrolling on his phone and stopped at your name on his phonebook. 

You watch as he stared at it. 

Should I call you? Should I ask to meet up just once?

My heart is strange, but I’m curious if you still think about me.

And just as his finger was about to press the call button, a little girl entered the living room, rubbing her eyes, like she just got up from bed.

“Appa. I’m cold.”

Jaebum dropped his phone on his seat. He quickly turned and smiled as soon as he saw the little girl. He got up and scooped her up, carrying her on his arms. “Does my little princess want a hot chocolate?”, he asked, still with the fatherly smile on his face.

The little girl nodded, leaning her head on his father’s broad shoulders. As they turn, you caught a clearer view of the little girls’ face and it was her. The girl who rang your doorbell. The girl whos’ hair was glowing.

And just as they disappeared into the kitchen, your surroundings changed back to that of your own kitchen.

**

A/N: before @katdefbeom accuses me of anything, I did not mean to write for JB in the first place, okay.. I lost in a game of rock paper scissors to @parkhabits and therefore had to write angst JB. 

[sulamichiephotography]

Final close encounters images and evaluation

This project was to produce a minimum of 5 macro images that fit under the theme of your choice. At least one of them had to be taken on location. I was interested and intrigued when given this brief as I had never done macro photography before. My favourite part was downloading the images into a computer for optimisation because then I saw for the first time what my subjects looked magnified on a large screen. Every time I was stunned because I thought it looked so amazing and otherworldly. I learnt how to use the certain macro equipment such as the bellows and macro lenses. I researched three photographers work as seen in project plan. Alex influenced my composition  and persuaded me on what types of glitter to photograph, Sharon McCutcheon made me want to shoot my rainbow earrings though I decided not to include them in my final images, and Gessi made me decide to apply liquid glitter to create a drip effect on flower petals for my location shoot. 

My favourite image, the one I will include in my portfolio is the 4th down from the top. I feel like that work looks the most artistic and visually impactful because of the different shaped glitters and colours. Problems during the project consisted of getting the right distance from the lens to the subject where the focus was correct. This took me a long time in the studio to fix, moving the bellows in and out and using probs like books to elivate the surface that the glitter was on. I learnt that it was more effective moving the glitter closer to the lens than the other way round. This made the images have the correct focus point. During the location shoot it was difficult to position and keep the flower still since it was so small and fragile. I ended up placing it on concrete as it was a flat surface which created a lovely colour contrast between the red and dark grey.

Some of my images aren't as sharp as they could have been. If I were to shoot macro again I would put my camera onto self timer mode as to not press the shutter button, causing movement. New ideas for future projects include wanting to expand on the concept seen in the location image. I think putting paint or liquidy substances on different objects like jewellery, feathers etc would make a very interesting theme. Also taking images of contact lenses because they all have different patterns and colours - some photos could be where the contact is in someones eye and others just the contact on a white background.

[criticalrolecosplay]

#CosplayOfTheDay 22nd September 2018 feat. @glitter_slug Nott the Brave by Glitter Slug Photo by Shutter Light Photography

[talbottowearing]

French photographer Lucien Clergue got his start at a young age - at 19, he met Pablo Picasso along with a handful of prominent artists, and quickly gained a foothold in the world of photography. Until his death in 2014, Clergue proved his versatility as an artist and photographer, creating countless distinct bodies of work. Whether these included photographs taken while traveling with a group of Romani nomads or vicious images of French bullfights, Clergue never seemed to stick to a formula. Here, I will be comparing two of his most prominent works: “Cocteau” (1959) and “Zebra Nudes” (1997) (“Lucien Clergue Biography.”). 

“Cocteau” contains numerous photographs taken on the set of director-writer-actor Jean Cocteau’s film The Testament of Orpheus. Combining behind the scenes photographs of Cocteau directing and on-set photos of Cocteau acting out the lines he wrote, this work blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. What is staged and what is simply Cocteau’s natural flamboyance is for the viewer to ponder and decide. “Zebra Nudes”, created nearly 40 years after “Cocteau” (though Clergue began taking nude photographs as early as 1956), is more simple on the surface: numerous images of naked bodies (mostly female) sprawled beneath the rays of sunlight split by the venetian blinds in Clergue’s apartment. 

While each of these bodies of work are aesthetically distinct and feature very different subject matter, they are not without their similarities. First of all, both works showcase posed and elevated forms of relatively normal human activities. These series take everyday things like a film shoot or someone lounging nude in their apartment and make them larger-than-life. It seems like this was a trend in Clergue’s work - seeing the art in the everyday. 

But, as anyone can tell from viewing these two works, they are also quite distinct from one another. I’d say that “Cocteau” is more of a documentary project than “Zebra Nudes” which may not be the immediate response. This is because even though some or most of the “Cocteau” photographs are posed and deliberate, they seem more loosely posed (Clergue - Jean Cocteau, Testament of Orpheus). Where Jean Cocteau himself has a natural theatricality and flamboyance, the nudes feel almost devoid of personality. Few of these pictures leave the subject’s face unobstructed - these models are nameless, faceless. These pictures, to me, seem purely aesthetic, highlighting beauty and capturing youth in beautiful ways, whereas with Clergue’s series on the set of Jean Cocteau’s film The Testament of Orpheus, these photographs are intended to capture as much of one man’s life throughout the course of several months as possible. In this sense, Clergue, while he clearly posed some of these photographs, had much less control over the story being told. Cocteau is not nameless, and he is not faceless. In fact, it seems that the goal of this series was to capture the many faces of Cocteau - which are doubled due to the nature of the setting - Clergue was capturing Cocteau both as a man behind or off camera, and as an actor, portraying an imagined character. 

This makes “Zebra Nudes” much more narrative-based. It’s not irregular for people to be nude in their homes, with rays of sunlight glittering across their bodies through the venetian blinds, or for people to be nude on the beach (as in Clergue’s other “Nudes” series). But Clergue seems to capture these moments at their most aesthetically pleasing, their most “perfect”. The models and their bodies show few to no imperfections, the lines of sunlight are perfectly straight, exaggerating the curves of their hips or breasts. The lines cross their bodies in such pleasing ways that it seems as if Clergue may have taken hundreds of photos to then filter through, or carefully, deliberately position the blinds and models until they were in just the right posture, then release the shutter. These photographs also demonstrate the versatility of the human body; each model is nearly identical to the last, though Clergue took nudes for over 40 years. So while these models are indistinct from one another, perhaps that is the point. These photographs are not about the singular, unique individuals in the frame. I see them as a celebration of the beauty of humankind, and natural life in general. While the bodies are nearly identical, the poses, settings, varying levels of contrast, and shadows make for one-of-a-kind photographs, each one displaying a new context for the female (and perhaps occasionally male) body to tell a new story within. 

On a technical note, both sets of photos utilize high contrast, to find the blackest blacks and brightest whites, though the “Cocteau” photos use this to a less extreme extent, since the objective of the majority of these photos was to capture an entire scene. On the other hand, the “Zebra Nudes” photographs are, as I view it, doing the exact opposite. Clergue directs the viewer’s attention to the strips of light and the models beneath them to the point where their surroundings are almost totally unnoticeable. There are no props near or behind the models - in fact, the background is usually the flat, unpatterned floor, the sheets of a bed, or the ledge of a window (if you can see the background at all, due to the aforementioned high contrast, making only the strips of light across the models bodies visible).

It’s also immediately clear how Clergue’s distances from his subjects vary across these projects. In “Cocteau”, Clergue captures entire scenes with a wide depth of field from afar, whereas in “Zebra Nudes”, Clergue is so close to the subject that only portions of their bodies can even be seen. Clergue could have taken these photos from the other corner of the room, as to capture the entire scene of the sunlight across the models bodies, but he rather opts for a very close, personal, intimate distance from his subjects. Some “Cocteau” photos are close, but not nearly as close as these. 

So, on an aesthetic level, the photographs couldn’t be more different. On a conceptual level, the photographs are similar - posed, larger-than-life demonstrations of everyday activities (when viewing the over-the-top shots of Cocteau as behind-the-scenes photographs of a film being made, rather than standalone, fantastical images). And on a thematic level, differences arise again - while Clergue’s nude series demonstrates general themes about youth and humanity in all its beauty and natural perfection, the Cocteau series demonstrates the many sides of one man in the midst of his creative pursuits. 

Clergue, Lucien, and David LeHardy Sweet. Jean Cocteau, Testament of Orpheus. Viking, 2001. 

Clergue, Lucien. “Zebra Nudes.” Lucien Clergue, 19 June 2018, 

“Lucien Clergue Biography.” Lucien Clergue, 30 July 2018, 

[digi5studios-blog]

Should a photographer learn Photoshop Retouching!?

A photographer’s goal is to get the most beautiful shots could be the most important thing retouching images is an art as well.

Although the world has given it a bad name, however, there are some methods of Photoshop Retouching that is ethical and legal if you do not go too far.

It is not possible to trust the notion of the past, and believe that the picture is finished once you click the shutter.

The field has changed in the last years and each day new photographers are introduced with their own unique approaches and techniques of Photo Retouching. Not editing is akin to the idea that learning about the finer points of photocomposition is not worth it.

So, the question is: how can a photographer master Photoshop Retouching? The short answer is yes and for a more detailed answer, let’s explore this subject more deeply.

What is Retouching?

If you are looking at a photograph and feel that a few spots might need help if you could just grasp the object in the photograph and then clean up the tiny dust particle.

This is the point at which Photo Retouching can help you out. Photoshop is a powerful program that lets you edit and retouch your photos as well as provide a variety of amazing tools that can help you create your perfect masterpiece.

Read More …… Top 5 Free Photoshop 2021 Plugins In The Market

Retouching photos is a final step in post-processing. It is the process of removing imperfections in the photo prior to displaying it for publication, printing, or displaying to your client. The removal of any blemishes or fingerprints your product picked up while the shooting process was in progress is the most frequently used adjustment. Retouching photos is also used to highlight and convey the properties of an object that the camera cannot communicate, such as glitter flashes or colour saturation.

These are subtle adjustments that you won’t be able to notice until you actually examine the differences between the original and altered photo. But, these small adjustments are crucial to making your photos better than photographers often enhance their photos.

Sometimes people are able to be too extravagant and that is a violation of the goal of Photoshop editing, as it makes the subject impossible to recognize.

Learning Photoshop Retouching is Important for Photographers

The thing is nowadays, you can’t go about your life without understanding the most important software. Even if you think that they aren’t useful and all you need is to improve your photography skills but that’s not the case.

Whatever incredible and exciting your photography abilities are, how sophisticated or expensive the camera getting to know Photoshop editing will benefit you greatly for your professional photography.

The real work of photography starts after you press the shutter as now it’s your turn to decide to polish your image.

The camera has completed its job. In the past legendary photographers would lock themselves away in their dark spaces and work on their photos, therefore why is retouching so bad nowadays? It’s almost as a way to protect people who aren’t able to master Photoshop and, therefore, think it is useless.

Similar to photographers who call themselves natural light photographers in order to disguise their incompetence to use flash, and their inability to master the art of learning. Learning is a part of every activity that you undertake, no matter how far you believe you’ve mastered your abilities, learning will never end. No one can master everything.

A good worker utilizes the full range of tools to complete their work. Thus, to dismiss the possibility of a tool being very beneficial to complete your task faster with superior sound quality is extremely illogical. It could impact your photography in a serious way when you continue to ignore Photoshop Retouching.

There are a variety of techniques to create amazing photos that impress your clients and viewers. We should not forget how fun having fun learning Photoshop editing can be as you explore tools and come to realize your own style and style preferences.

Don’t limit your photography. Instead of making it dull, instead, spice it up. A retouching can go far. The process of learning Photoshop editing is crucial so you know when to overstep the mark and lean toward excessive retouching.

Reasons for Retouching Photos

Let’s discuss some solid reasons why Photoshop retouching is an absolute necessity and, in the end, you’ll be grateful God to God for Photoshop.

Getting Rid of Unwanted Objects

You capture a stunning photo at night, with a stunning image of the mountains lit up in the background. Everything looks great and is incredible however, wait!

What happens to all those people in front of you? You can’t have them all disappear, particularly when they are relaxing and having fun with their family members. What can you do? The answer is to edit the image using tools available in Photoshop! Your photo is perfect and you can see no one behind it. It sounds amazing, doesn’t it?

Removing Defects

It’s a fact that things don’t always be your way. You planned a shoot to stock photography and booked the studio and paid the rent.

Everything is set and you’re waiting on the model. The model had prior to the shoot and covered them in spot marks on their head from the toe.

If you’re not in a position to delay, postpone, or reschedule your appointment, or to find an alternative model, and you have to shoot, Photoshop retouching can be your salvation. In this scenario, you shoot the photos and once you have the best shots, then it’s time to do Photoshop Retouching to make sure you get the best results. Retouching that is effective and efficient is virtually unnoticeable.

If photographers can recognize the fine line between retouching and over-retouching, it’s a great method to improve the quality of their photos. Over-retouching is undesirable.

General Adjustments

Photographers may not have the luxury of their ideal lighting, so Retouching can be a great way to improve the clarity and lighting of your photos. You are able to always lighten your images no matter the lighting conditions in the location you took them.

Conclusion:

The amazing things software can provide isn’t a wise choice particularly if it can assist in improving your craft.

Retouching photos with Photoshop is a great method to bring life back into your images and can assist you in a variety of ways. Photographers should be able to master Photoshop Retouching since their abilities will be useless without it. Photographers should not show their clients poorly composed photos with poor lighting and dull colours.

Retouching can be beneficial for everyone as it improves the overall quality and quality of photos however, it is important not to get caught up in the process and ensure that everything is in the right balance.

[sciencespies]

Haunting new photo of Earth at night captures our planet's fragile beauty

https://sciencespies.com/space/haunting-new-photo-of-earth-at-night-captures-our-planets-fragile-beauty/

Haunting new photo of Earth at night captures our planet's fragile beauty

Our planet Earth is a mote of dust in the cosmos, carrying its precious cargo of all the life we know exists in the Universe, sailing a sea of stars.

It’s easy to forget that, even when standing under a sky studded with glittering, distant fire. But a new photograph from European Space Agency (ESA) astronaut Thomas Pesquet is a spectacular reminder.

From the Cupola of the International Space Station (ISS), he has managed to image the night side of Earth, wrapped in its luminous, ethereal atmosphere, with shining lights of human habitation against a background of glittering stars.

“A few night pictures from the Cupola: sometimes star lights battle it out with city lights for who’s the brightest and more beautiful,” Pesquet wrote on Flickr. “I’m just lucky to get to be the judge.”

(ESA/NASA-T. Pesquet)

The glowing atmosphere, not mentioned by Pesquet, is also astonishing. It’s called nightglow, and it’s created by natural processes.

Earth’s sky is never completely dark, not even at night, and not even once you’ve extracted light pollution, starlight, and diffuse sunlight. The molecules in the atmosphere are constantly undergoing various processes, which causes them to faintly glow across a range of wavelengths.

Nightglow, which appears at night, occurs when molecules and particles broken apart during the day by solar radiation (a process called photoionization) recombine, releasing their excess energy in the form of photons. On Earth, this occurs in layers – the blue-green layer at the outer edge is oxygen and nitrogen.

At a lower altitude, the red-gold layer is called the sodium layer. This is where meteors break apart, releasing sodium into the atmosphere. Photoionization and recombination of sodium atoms then produces a distinctive golden glow.

This glow is quite subtle, as can be the light of the stars in the background; taking such photos requires quite a bit of patience.

“I’ve missed more than my share,” Pesquet explained.

“You need a long shutter time (the shutter needs to stay open to take in as much light as possible, as the scene is very dark), so not only do you as a photographer have to stay extremely still holding the camera, but also the Space Station moves so fast that there will be some motion anyway… the intricacies of space photography!”

Up in space, gazing upon our planet, astronauts often report feeling what has been dubbed the Overview Effect: seeing Earth float in space, radiant and yet somehow delicate, generates a powerful feeling of the connectedness of humanity, and a protectiveness for it.

Although space – and therefore seeing such views first-hand – is out of reach of most of humanity, it’s images like Pesquet’s that can give us some small insight into how that feels.

You can download the image in high resolution from Pesquet’s Flickr page.

#Space

[shadowreine]

Jihyun Week - Day 4

Photography || Music

“Selfies”

Summary:  V experiments with photography. Slight V Route spoilers.

Click.

V doesn’t like taking pictures of himself. He’s the photographer, not the photographed. He’s more comfortable being the one behind the camera than the one in front of it. He minds it less, of course, if he’s in a group shot, where the focus is shared instead of it beng solely on him, but he much prefers staying out of the spotlight.

He takes a picture of himself now, though, with the front facing camera on his phone while he’s sitting in Luciel’s car. A selfie. He sees himself reflected on the screen; he hates the sight of it. He never takes selfies. He isn’t like the others in the RFA who take pictures of themselves and share them with everyone on the messenger. He looks at himself and doesn’t see anything beautiful or even marginally attractive. His hair is too strange a color, his frame too slight and lanky. He isn’t as good-looking as someone like Zen, a person who was born to be loved by a camera lens, or even Jumin, whose physical appeal is as elegant as it is effortless.

But he takes the picture nonetheless, even manages a small smile. He takes it for her. He wants her to remember him like this. He may not be beautiful or whole or even a good man, he’s not even a person worth remembering, but for some reason, whatever happens to him, he doesn’t want her to forget him.

He sends her the selfie before he can change his mind. A remnant of what he used to be, of what he could have been.

Click.

V doesn’t have his camera with him, not his professional one anyway. He’d wanted to travel lightly, with only a backpack of his essentials, and the camera that he’d once taken everywhere with him was left at home, packed away in a box.

He uses the camera on his phone to take pictures instead. He still has a photographer’s eye, but for the most part, he’s abandoned all desire to take photos solely for the aesthetic. He spends more time living in the moment, drinking in the monuments, landscapes, and cityscapes with his own two eyes rather than filtering them through a lens. His newly regained vision has given him a sharper sense of clarity, both literally and figuratively. He can’t believe that he was once willing to let himself go blind, and he’s glad that he didn’t, because then he would never have had the chance to see the world as he sees it now.

The pictures he does take are taken for his own pleasure, a memento of all the places he’s visited and the ones he’d like to visit again in the future.

He stands with a group of tourists in front of the Taj Mahal. Everyone beside him is snapping photos with their phones. If he were the same man he was a month ago, he would’ve opted for a more creative framing of the famous monument; he would’ve spent a few hours examining where the light hit, deciding on the perfect angle. Now, however, he doesn’t care for that. He takes a few photos as a keepsake, then slips his phone back into his pocket and admires the building’s beauty, visually tracing its domed roofs and symmetrical lines. He wonders whether he could replicate it with his own hand on paper.

He spots a teenage girl trying to take a selfie of herself with the Taj Mahal in the background, and he overhears her grumbles about how she can’t get the whole building in the frame. He offers to take her picture for her instead, but she politely declines, telling him that she wants a selfie to send to her friends back at home.

He doesn’t understand how a close (and badly) framed selfie could be more appealing than a wide shot, but he respects her wishes. He moves along.

Click.

V starts experimenting with selfies after that. He’s not sure why, exactly. Perhaps he’s been influenced by seeing so many tourists taking selfies around him, piquing his interest in trying it out for himself. He resolves to take at least one selfie every day as a marker of where he’d been and what he’d done that particular day, whether it was hiking across the Great Wall or watching an opera in Vienna.

At first, he hates doing it. He hates how he looks in every picture, and it takes him well over ten shots before he finds one that he’s relatively satisfied with. He doesn’t have anyone to send these pictures to, and it seems rather vain and selfish to have his camera roll full of only pictures of himself. But he’s persistent about it, and consistent. It becomes a ritual of some sort.

Eventually, he forgets to take other kinds of pictures on his travels, but he never forgets to take a selfie.

Click.

He finds he no longer hates looking at himself. Every day there is something new to admire. His hair isn’t strange, but unique. The same unique shade as his mother’s. His body isn’t skinny and lanky, but sturdy and lean from all the walking and hiking he’s done on his travels.

...Perhaps he is good-looking, after all.

He laughs at himself as he closes his photo app. Is this how it feels to be like Zen? He doesn’t think he’ll ever get to that level of self-love, but he’s comforted to know that the person he sees in those pictures, the person he sees in the mirror, isn’t a broken stranger, but a kind friend.

Click.

“Can you take a picture of me?” he says to a stranger.

He’s made it to the west coast of North America, and he’s traveling up the rocky shorelines of California. He wants a picture of himself standing on the cliff’s edge, standing with the ocean and the horizon rolling endlessly behind him. It’s an image he can’t convey with a close-shot selfie, and so he politely asks a middle aged woman for her assistance.

“Oh sure, honey,” she says, and she takes his phone. She backs away from a him a few steps, getting him in frame, then she counts out loud.

He smiles. When she reaches the number three, the phone’s mock shutter clicks.

He thanks her as she hands him his phone. As he expects, the woman comments on his uniquely colored hair. He’s used to it by now, and he finds it amusing that no one seems to believe him when he says it’s his natural color. It’s a wonderful conversation starter, he’s come to realize. He’s met so many people since he left home. Everyone has a story.

The woman hikes alongside him for a while. She’s a tourist herself, and she explains that she’s taking an impromptu trip from the eastern coast of Canada after going through a strenuous divorce. He sympathizes and says he left Korea almost two years ago for a similar reason, but he doesn’t go into detail.

“Wow, two years,” she says. “Do you plan on going back sometime?”

He nods. “Eventually. When I feel ready.”

“So where are you headed to next?”

“I hear Alaska is nice. I’d like to go there.”

Soon, they part ways. The woman expresses that it was nice meeting him and that she wishes him luck in the future. Then she asks for his name.

“Jihyun. Jihyun Kim.”

The woman repeats it back to him. “That’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I think so too.”

Click.

Jihyun looks at the photo she took of him on the cliff. He has to admit, the woman has a good eye.

The landscape in the picture is breathtaking. Jihyun stands in the center, the bright sun glinting off his turquoise hair that almost blends into the blue sky behind him. His smile is wide, and his eyes glitter like the ocean.

He almost doesn’t recognize himself. He’s used to seeing his own selfies, pictures taken by his own hand and perspective, so seeing himself through the eyes of a stranger was a new experience.

Even so, he knows the man in the picture is him. It’s a reflection of himself, as he is. As he has become.

It’s the most beautiful photograph he’s ever seen.