A/N: Hello! This is Syn here! I would like to point out that this is a fanfic created for the Weekly prompt/quote challenge by the Lovely Miko! Although it is not limited to just being updated from that challenge. It will also be used for other challenges that are fitting for it. So, this will not be updated frequently :). I drew inspiration for this challenge from the "This is Gonna Hurt" Soundtrack by Sixx:A.M, and by the book itself by Nikki Sixx. Chapter Titles of this fanfiction come from the lyrics of the TIGH soundtrack ;).
I would like to give thanks to Quoth the Dragon for her quick grammar/spellcheck and suggestions, and Skyisthelimit, my beta, for helping me out with this :D. I would also like to thank Luna for her suggestions on a summary :), and Sugar0o for input!
Vignette [Vin-yet]: noun-
2. an engraving, drawing, photograph, or the like that is shaded off gradually at the edges so as to leave no definite line at the border.
Disclaimer: I, in no way shape or form, own Inuyasha, nor do I make any profit from this. Inuyasha is opyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi.
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What do you seen when you look at a snow storm? Do you see a flurry of annoyance that you will have to shovel the next morning, or do you believe the snowflakes are like kisses sent down from heaven? Perception is everything, whether it is in the beauty of a deformed woman, or the ugliness of the models in a picture-perfect magazine. It is truly what you see beyond the outer shell. I believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but the viewer is closed off because of ignorance. When you look at a picture or a model, do you see their story? Or do you see just a picture? I want to bring stories back into this industry one photograph at a time. I want to widen the viewer's eyes like the aperture of a lens.
Kagome sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. The screen of her laptop glared angrily at her. She had a deadline to meet, and it was slowly coming to a close in a few short hours. Her editor was going to bitch if she didn't send it to her. The images that surrounded her desk were inspirations for the article. The portraits of the people she had photographed were awe- inspiring, and gave her a new light to things. The normal pretty pictures weren't cutting it for her anymore. The words on the screen were a testament to her inward emotions. The film captured the heart and soul of the models she had used in her recent portfolio.
They were raw, untouched beauties. Everything was done by the manipulation of the camera's settings. Her Canon EOS Rebel did wonders, it was new and hadn't given her any problems. The exposure, the aperture setting, the toying of light and lens filters performed amazing wonders. Her heart lurched as she shuffled through the moments she had captured in split seconds. Their stories painted for everyone to see; the models were magnificently vulnerable. Her photographs were going to be the talk of the year. They would spark controversy, disgust, and possible hate. But the displays would make people see the ugliness within themselves, or at least she prayed they would.
When was the last time she was proud of her work? She couldn't remember it was so long ago. She had become a tool of the industry. She had lost herself in the money. All her boss cared about was the money, and she ended up falling into the very same trap of greed. A representative from a modeling agency hired her when she was in her prime. They asked her to become the next top photographer; they made her, and she let them. Kagome would never allow that to happen again. Especially after the accident that almost left her paralyzed from the waist down.
The scars that marred her body would be her reminder. Months of recuperation and the innumerable amount of tears she had shed were the things that now kept her grounded. Inspiration was overflowing from her being now. Before her accident, her creative flow was drying up. She was becoming bored with the same poses, same faces, same themes. It was all fake and everything was airbrushed and retouched to perfection. Nothing was real anymore and it disgusted her.
Sifting through the images on her work desk Kagome lifted up the photo of her best friend. The woman was terrified of being before the camera completely exposed. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight bun, her bare skin illuminated under the bright light. The seductive look in her eyes drew the on-looker in, but you couldn't see her face for it was covered by a mask. The mangled scar on her back, accentuated by make-up and shadow-play, created an entirely new vignette for the observer's eyes to feast upon. It was beautiful, she was beautiful.
Kagome was sick of lying to the public with stale pictures of fake beauty. She wanted to show the truth, and nothing but the truth. If petty articles ranting about her feelings on the subject with a few photographs complimenting them were her only outlet, then by God she would use them. After all, Kagome was an artist and artists had more power than they believed they did.
Word Count: 718
Prompt/Quote: "Snowflakes are like kisses sent down from heaven..."