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rainbowfic2015-07-23 05:50 pm
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2015-07-23 05:50 pm
Prism
Name: starphotographs
Story: Corwin and Friends
Characters: Mostly just Corwin.
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival), Miniature Collection, Saturation
Colors: Prism
Word Count: 1,300ish
Rating: PG-13 (PG sans effer)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Corwin looks at stuff. A lot.
Note: Similar to World of Hidden Things. Title is also the title of a Maple Bee song!
Rare Colors
grey
I've always liked overcast weather best. When the light stops reflecting off of everything, and I stop squinting, I can finally get a good look around. Finally see the real colors of the world.
Real colors are darker. And so saturated that you feel your eyes straining to wrap around them and get them to your brain in one piece.
This happens even to things like bricks and driveways.
It's amazing, really. What starts to stand out when the sky isn't making itself such a distraction.
copper
When I was a kid, I had this huge clanking jar of pennies. I wasn't saving up to buy anything. The pennies themselves were the things I wanted. They were minted in prime number years, and that made them unique, even though they just looked like regular pennies.
I think I would have done that with all kinds of change, but I was only allowed to do it with pennies. Because, well, you know. They’re pretty worthless.
green
I used to sneak in to this total stranger's yard, because they had a patch of grass that seemed like it must have been a different species or something. It was longer and greener and softer than any other grass around. They had a big yard, and the good grass was behind a bush. So I'd bring a book and just hang out there, like it was my own tiny park.
...It's worth noting that this isn't a childhood anecdote.
I did this when I was twenty-fucking-five.
black
As long as I live, I'll never forget the time I found Jupiter by accident. I was goofing off with this cheap telescope I'd gotten as a gift, and I pointed it at what I thought was the brightest star in the sky.
Only, it wasn't a star. It was a striped disc and four tiny companions, suspended in the void.
I knew what it was, and that it was there. But that didn't make me feel any less like I'd discovered something new.
brown
I've always wondered if I could get my room fitted with windows made out of the same glass as a beer bottle. It would probably still be enough light to read by, and the whole room would seem warmer and more relaxing.
But, I like looking outside, so I guess it would mess with that. And you'd probably start feeling like a dead bug in amber after a while.
Still, it sounds like a nice idea.
silver
I used to cover all my notebooks and binders and stuff in duct tape, because, to me, it kind of made everything look like it was made out of metal, and I thought that was cool.
Of course, everyone else thought I was just a Weird Duct Tape Guy, but I was too oblivious for it to bother me.
To this day, I'm not sure how that stopped. I guess I just ran out, and never bothered to get another roll.
orange
When I was little, I could navigate the house in the pitch dark by following the surge protector switches. They were everywhere we needed at least three cords, so there was at least one in each room, and they burned a bright lava-orange. Every time I couldn't sleep, the lights would lead me from my room, and I'd connect them like a constellation, all the way to the back door. To the midnight porch, where I knew I could always be alone.
blue
One time, this kid invited me to his house after school, but we didn't know each other well, and he didn't want to do anything interesting, so I ended up wandering off and exploring his entire house. A snarl of cords under a desk, and the attendant surge protector, particularly caught my attention.
The switch glowed, like the ones back home, but it glowed blue. I didn't know something so small could emit such a beautiful light. So I sat down and stared, marveling at what I was sure was the bluest thing on Earth.
red
When we were younger, Martin got these red-lensed sunglasses at a Halloween store, because it was already November and they were fifty cents.
I think he ended up regretting that, because I drove him insane for the entire next month.
Every time we went somewhere I hadn't seen through them before, I'd bug him to hand me the glasses until he finally groaned, rifled through his backpack, and passed them to me. Then I'd look around until I was satisfied.
Eventually, they broke. I was devastated, but Martin took it pretty well.
"Corwin... For fifty cents, what did you expect?"
white
The few months I lived in a nicer apartment complex, I had to trudge out to a gazebo to smoke, even in the middle of the night, because we weren't allowed to smoke in our apartments, or even near the building.
So what happened was, I'd end up out there at three in the morning, flaking the white paint off the beam I always sat next to, thinking about how I was just going to have to get ready in a few hours, and go to work at a stupid lab where nobody liked me.
indigo
When I lived in my studio apartment after the accident, I never knew what time it was, because I kept my blinds drawn, and always forgot about my watch. So wasn’t ever really sure when I'd wake up.
Sometimes, I'd luck out and wake up at dusk. I'd sit on my fire escape and smoke, watching the red sky turn blue again. A better, deeper blue than the blue before sundown.
Practical considerations aside, I still think it's the perfect time to start the day.
violet
I don't know why, but one of the most memorable things about when I tagged along with Martin's family to Vietnam, so I could pretend to be an intern, was when I misplaced my pen, and Martin's dad grabbed one out of a coffee can and shoved it in my hand.
The ink was purple, which was bizarre and unacceptable. But still, I got used to it, and I took purple notes for the rest of the month.
When the ink ran out, there was a sharp pang of sadness. That was my Weirdo Summer Job Pen.
rainbow
Back at college, there was this sculpture some art student made, and they let it sit outside for months, so everyone could get a good look. I don't think it was supposed to be anything in particular. Actually, it looked like a ball of wire and slag, or like trash. But it was set with multicolored bits of broken glass, and when the sun was in just the right place, it would shine through them, making rainbows on the sidewalk.
Every day, at exactly the same time, I would rush outside so I could sit in colorful spot.
gold
They did something to the roads outside one of my apartments, and I don't really know what it was, but they marked things in gold spray paint.
And for the next few weeks, the gutters were full of gold-painted rocks. On my way to the bus station, I would always fill my pockets, and since I was the only one taking them, I could have as many as I wanted.
Apparently, I wanted a lot, because it's been years, and I'm still finding those things in my stuff.
yellow
If anyone asks, I always say I'm too clumsy to drive. And that's not untrue.
But I also know that, if I was driving at night, and my headlights grazed a hazard sign, I'd get stuck into staring at that yellow shine, the same color as photographs of the sun. The crispy lines and pure void-black of the symbols and lettering.
And they'd find me dead, my car wrapped around the signpost.
So, that's why I can't drive. There's just too much to see out there.
(And I'm clumsy.)
starphotographsStory: Corwin and Friends
Characters: Mostly just Corwin.
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Summer Carnival), Miniature Collection, Saturation
Colors: Prism
Word Count: 1,300ish
Rating: PG-13 (PG sans effer)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Corwin looks at stuff. A lot.
Note: Similar to World of Hidden Things. Title is also the title of a Maple Bee song!
I've always liked overcast weather best. When the light stops reflecting off of everything, and I stop squinting, I can finally get a good look around. Finally see the real colors of the world.
Real colors are darker. And so saturated that you feel your eyes straining to wrap around them and get them to your brain in one piece.
This happens even to things like bricks and driveways.
It's amazing, really. What starts to stand out when the sky isn't making itself such a distraction.
When I was a kid, I had this huge clanking jar of pennies. I wasn't saving up to buy anything. The pennies themselves were the things I wanted. They were minted in prime number years, and that made them unique, even though they just looked like regular pennies.
I think I would have done that with all kinds of change, but I was only allowed to do it with pennies. Because, well, you know. They’re pretty worthless.
I used to sneak in to this total stranger's yard, because they had a patch of grass that seemed like it must have been a different species or something. It was longer and greener and softer than any other grass around. They had a big yard, and the good grass was behind a bush. So I'd bring a book and just hang out there, like it was my own tiny park.
...It's worth noting that this isn't a childhood anecdote.
I did this when I was twenty-fucking-five.
As long as I live, I'll never forget the time I found Jupiter by accident. I was goofing off with this cheap telescope I'd gotten as a gift, and I pointed it at what I thought was the brightest star in the sky.
Only, it wasn't a star. It was a striped disc and four tiny companions, suspended in the void.
I knew what it was, and that it was there. But that didn't make me feel any less like I'd discovered something new.
I've always wondered if I could get my room fitted with windows made out of the same glass as a beer bottle. It would probably still be enough light to read by, and the whole room would seem warmer and more relaxing.
But, I like looking outside, so I guess it would mess with that. And you'd probably start feeling like a dead bug in amber after a while.
Still, it sounds like a nice idea.
I used to cover all my notebooks and binders and stuff in duct tape, because, to me, it kind of made everything look like it was made out of metal, and I thought that was cool.
Of course, everyone else thought I was just a Weird Duct Tape Guy, but I was too oblivious for it to bother me.
To this day, I'm not sure how that stopped. I guess I just ran out, and never bothered to get another roll.
When I was little, I could navigate the house in the pitch dark by following the surge protector switches. They were everywhere we needed at least three cords, so there was at least one in each room, and they burned a bright lava-orange. Every time I couldn't sleep, the lights would lead me from my room, and I'd connect them like a constellation, all the way to the back door. To the midnight porch, where I knew I could always be alone.
One time, this kid invited me to his house after school, but we didn't know each other well, and he didn't want to do anything interesting, so I ended up wandering off and exploring his entire house. A snarl of cords under a desk, and the attendant surge protector, particularly caught my attention.
The switch glowed, like the ones back home, but it glowed blue. I didn't know something so small could emit such a beautiful light. So I sat down and stared, marveling at what I was sure was the bluest thing on Earth.
When we were younger, Martin got these red-lensed sunglasses at a Halloween store, because it was already November and they were fifty cents.
I think he ended up regretting that, because I drove him insane for the entire next month.
Every time we went somewhere I hadn't seen through them before, I'd bug him to hand me the glasses until he finally groaned, rifled through his backpack, and passed them to me. Then I'd look around until I was satisfied.
Eventually, they broke. I was devastated, but Martin took it pretty well.
"Corwin... For fifty cents, what did you expect?"
The few months I lived in a nicer apartment complex, I had to trudge out to a gazebo to smoke, even in the middle of the night, because we weren't allowed to smoke in our apartments, or even near the building.
So what happened was, I'd end up out there at three in the morning, flaking the white paint off the beam I always sat next to, thinking about how I was just going to have to get ready in a few hours, and go to work at a stupid lab where nobody liked me.
When I lived in my studio apartment after the accident, I never knew what time it was, because I kept my blinds drawn, and always forgot about my watch. So wasn’t ever really sure when I'd wake up.
Sometimes, I'd luck out and wake up at dusk. I'd sit on my fire escape and smoke, watching the red sky turn blue again. A better, deeper blue than the blue before sundown.
Practical considerations aside, I still think it's the perfect time to start the day.
I don't know why, but one of the most memorable things about when I tagged along with Martin's family to Vietnam, so I could pretend to be an intern, was when I misplaced my pen, and Martin's dad grabbed one out of a coffee can and shoved it in my hand.
The ink was purple, which was bizarre and unacceptable. But still, I got used to it, and I took purple notes for the rest of the month.
When the ink ran out, there was a sharp pang of sadness. That was my Weirdo Summer Job Pen.
Back at college, there was this sculpture some art student made, and they let it sit outside for months, so everyone could get a good look. I don't think it was supposed to be anything in particular. Actually, it looked like a ball of wire and slag, or like trash. But it was set with multicolored bits of broken glass, and when the sun was in just the right place, it would shine through them, making rainbows on the sidewalk.
Every day, at exactly the same time, I would rush outside so I could sit in colorful spot.
They did something to the roads outside one of my apartments, and I don't really know what it was, but they marked things in gold spray paint.
And for the next few weeks, the gutters were full of gold-painted rocks. On my way to the bus station, I would always fill my pockets, and since I was the only one taking them, I could have as many as I wanted.
Apparently, I wanted a lot, because it's been years, and I'm still finding those things in my stuff.
If anyone asks, I always say I'm too clumsy to drive. And that's not untrue.
But I also know that, if I was driving at night, and my headlights grazed a hazard sign, I'd get stuck into staring at that yellow shine, the same color as photographs of the sun. The crispy lines and pure void-black of the symbols and lettering.
And they'd find me dead, my car wrapped around the signpost.
So, that's why I can't drive. There's just too much to see out there.
(And I'm clumsy.)
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Favorite Line.
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eta: added your color tag.