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annabethy · 4 years

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percabeth zoom calls!

“Babe! Do you know where my charger is?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, adjusting her computer screen so that it was facing her. Percy bangs around in the kitchen some more, for what she suspects is his charger, before he starts cursing, and she suspects he stubbed his toe on the corner of the counter like he’s done five times in the last week.

“Are you okay?” she asks after another minute of loud cursing, poking her head out from his bedroom.

“I’m just getting it all out before the students see.”

Annabeth leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know they made you that mad.” Percy snorts, coming up in front of her to wrap him in her arms. He kisses her forehead before responding. “They make me livid.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as terrible as my kids,” she argues, smiling when his lips catch hers. “My calc kids can’t even do simple algebra.”

“I can’t do simple algebra,” he says, biting her lower lip. “That’s why I teach marine.”

“Marine is the most boring thing you could’ve possibly chosen to teach, but okay.”

“Says the walking calculator.”

Annabeth pinches his butt and he yelps.

“That was a compliment!”

“Make it sound like it next time,” she says, retreating back to his room. “I know that you finished teaching for the day, but I haven’t, so stay quiet.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You want to know what’s no fun? Having your students find out that you’re hooking up with their math teacher.”

Percy grins. “Is that what this is? And here I thought we were actually dating.”

“We won’t be if they find out because I will kill you,” Annabeth threatens without malice. She takes a step back to retreat into his room and he takes a step to follow her, which sends alarm shooting through her mind. “What are you doing?”

Percy has an amused smile plastered to his face, and she knows she’s about to be fighting whatever he decides to say next.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“It’s my bedroom.”

“You shouldn’t have invited me then,” Annabeth says, eyeing him as he keeps following her. “What are you, my shadow?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.”

It’s so disgustingly cheesy but it’s also so disgustingly him that she can’t help but give in as he settles down onto the bed. Percy flips onto his stomach, reaching for the pillow she’d been using the previous night as Annabeth sits at his desk. As he turns his head towards her, his eyes trace over her, and she has to pretend not to notice, as though the red flush of her face didn’t give her away.

Percy’s hand reaches out to squeeze her knee to get her attention, and she feels butterflies in her stomach. They had been together for more than a few months now, and they’d been best friends for quite a while longer, but the way he looks at her never ceased to make her feel this way.

“I’m turning the class on,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up. Percy making a motion to zip his lips, making her snicker.

It’s only a minute before someone’s joining the class and Annabeth’s snickering for an entirely different reason.

“Piper,” Annabeth says, laughing. “What are you wearing?”

“I like to think that I am wearing Gucci,” Piper says, posing over the camera. “What do you think?”

Annabeth has to stifle her laughs at her favorite student. “I think it looks… very original.”

“Why do I feel like that means you think it’s trashy, Ms. Chase? Do you think it’s trashy?”

Annabeth shoves Percy’s head out of frame as he tries to sneak a peek at Piper’s outfit. “To be fair, you are wearing a trash bag.”

“I am insulted that you do not know the difference between a trash bag and a plastic tarp,” Piper says.

Percy grunts as Annabeth shoves him backwards onto the bed again in an attempt to keep him out of camera because she is almost one-thousand percent certain that Piper would recognize him, and considering they were in the middle of a pandemic, Piper would also know that they had been staying together for a while. Annabeth loves Piper, but Piper has zero filter and absolutely will make a comment if she knew.

Eventually, a few more students join, and Annabeth spends time talking to them, trying not to burst out laughing at Percy’s mouthed remarks making fun of her students.

(“Your students are dumb as hell, Annabeth.”

“You are so lucky that we are on mute.”

“How do they even mess up ten plus seven?”

“I literally don’t even know.”)

Annabeth just tries to get through the hour without walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and murdering herself with it. She really loves her calculus students, but someone once said that the smartest people lack the most common sense, and boy, that could not have been more true.

She thinks she’s in the clear. She makes it through the entire lesson without blowing her cover of staying with their teacher, and it’s actually much more exhilarating than she would’ve expected. It was like she was hiding some dirty secret from them as she avoided eye contact behind the camera and tried not to awkwardly jerk around when his hand found its way back onto her knee, delicately tracing shapes.

Annabeth is so close, and just as she’s getting ready to say goodbye, Piper just has to open her big mouth.

“Ms. Chase?”

“Yes, Piper?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Annabeth blinks, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She suddenly feels as though something is about to go very, very wrong. “Depending on what it is, I may or may not answer.”

Over the screen, Piper keeps a straight face, but Annabeth has taught her for over three years, and she recognizes the fire in her eyes.

“Earlier today, I had a class with Mr. Jackson. Did you know I’m in marine science?”

“I did not,” Annabeth says, strained.

“I’m in marine science, and, uh, we had class earlier today over zoom. I was talking to Mr. Jackson for a little bit after.”

“Were you? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, Mr. Jackson is a super nice teacher. I think you’d like him.”

“Do you now?”

“Mh-hm. Anyways, we were talking, and I told him that I liked the painting that was hanging behind him.”

Annabeth freezes.

“It’s the same painting that’s hanging behind you.”

Oh god.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Piper asks.

Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as she realizes that she is inevitably screwed. Of course Piper would have no shame in outing her to the entire class of seniors because that was just how Piper was, but Annabeth should’ve been smart enough not to film in the same spot because she knows her students well enough to know that there is a torment of sex jokes about to come her way.

“You’re looking a little bit red there, Ms. Chase.”

“What exactly are you implying, McLean?”

“Why are you in Mr. Jackson’s apartment?”

Annabeth is so mortified that she cannot move, but Percy seems to be just as shameless as Piper because a second later, he’s hopping into frame, smiling widely at her students.

“Hey, Piper!” Percy chirps.

“Mr. Jackson! So nice to see you! Why is Ms. Chase in your apartment?”

Percy clicks his tongue. “Now, that is a good question, but the most simple answer is that we’re quarantining — is that a word? — together.”

Annabeth sees Leo unmute himself and she immediately drops her face into her hands.

“Well, well, well,” Leo tsks. “I didn’t know we were studying chemistry right now.”

“I will make you do integrals,” Annabeth threatens.

“I’d like to see you try,” Leo has the audacity to say.

Another student unmutes themself and Annabeth recognizes the voice as Reyna’s.

“I am disgusted to find out that my teachers are dating,” Reyna says.

Percy lights up. “Reyna! You haven’t been showing up to my classes!”

“Mr. Jackson! That is because I simply do not care! Also, I would’ve preferred to not know that you two are living together.”

“Me too,” Annabeth mutters.

“Are you dating?” Piper asks. “I’ve always wanted you to date.”

Annabeth’s eye twitches. “I— no, Piper.”

“We’re not?” Percy frowns. “I thought we were.”

“They don’t need to know that,” she hisses.

Percy, always a people pleaser, pointedly kisses her on the cheek. He was always able to brush things off with a laugh, and it’s something that made Annabeth fall in love with him, but right now, it was something she thinks he would be better off without.

“They don’t care,” he dismisses, turning towards the camera. “Yes, we’re dating! We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s so cute!” Piper exclaims.

“I want to throw up,” Reyna says.

Leo gives an impish grin. “I felt my relationship senses tingling.”

“Shut up, Leo, no one cares,” Piper says, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Chase! I’m so happy for you! You guys should get married.”

“Way to jump the gun, Piper,” Percy says. “Give us another six months at least.”

“Also, now that we know you two are staying together — we aren’t stupid. We know what adults do when they’re alone, so just try to keep that off camera, ‘kay?”

Annabeth is actually going to drop down to the ground and cry in about two seconds. Piper wasn’t particularly wrong in her assumptions, but Annabeth did not need her students to know about her personal life in this much detail!

“Don’t think we don’t know about what you do when you’re alone with Jason,” Percy teases, and Annabeth actually chokes on air.

“But we’re not teachers—”

“Okay!” Annabeth interrupts, ready for this to be over. The can see the rest of her students screaming in chat, and she does not want to be here to witness this any longer. “I’m going to end this call now. Please never speak of this again.”

“I will bring this up tomorrow!” Piper says cheerfully, waving at them. “I—”

Annabeth clicks off the screen immediately, and the room goes silent.

She stays there with her head buried in her hands for a while, Percy’s hand still running up and down her back. His fingers curl as he scratches her skin languidly, waiting for her to get over her initial embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Annabeth mumbles into her hands. “That was awful.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” he assures.

“They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“They didn’t care,” Percy says, holding back a snicker. “At least now we can kiss in front of them.”

“You’re never getting any more kisses from me,” Annabeth says, standing up from the chair to try and walk the humiliation away.

Percy grabs her wrist, tugging until she looks him in the eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Annabeth is so flushed that she wants to die, and her students now know about her current living status and have their own conclusions as to what they do when they’re alone, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel incredible.

She tilts her head as she looks at him and he does the same. There’s a fire in his eyes as he challenges her.

“I’m not going to kiss you right now if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Percy bites his lower lip, whole body shaking with laughter. “You so sure?”

Annabeth takes a step back as Percy takes one forwards. She finds herself cornered against the bed with nowhere to go. She turns back to face Percy, and she only has one second to prepare before he’s grabbing her and falling onto the bed beside her.

“Percy,” she says, jerking around when he started tickling her. “This isn’t — funny!”

Percy kisses her neck, fingers moving her shirt up slightly to grip her sides. “I think it’s hilarious. Your students found out you have a boyfriend. So what? You’re human.”

“Stop,” she says, snorting and jerking again as he squeezes and palms her stomach.

“Kiss me.”

Percy’s fingers stop moving along her skin as he hovers over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She feels so warm and loved, laying here with her best friend, and he’s the complete opposite of her, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s for moments like this, to balance her out.

And as she kisses him, she thinks that she can complain about her invasive students and cursed zoom calls later because the only thing that matters right now is making sure he keeps kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world.

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #percy and annabeth #my writing #teacher au

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shi-daisy · 3 years

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The Phoenix and the Dragon

Yet again we've arrived at Ulquihime week! Gotta confess I'm not much of a Christmas person but I do look forward to December for my OTP week. Everyone puts so much love and effort into their entries that it's hard not to be excited. Okay so today's theme is Crossover and I wanted to pick something that wasn't likely to be repeated by someone else, so leave it to my nostalgic mind to go 'What about a Winx Club crossover?' Thus here we are! This little one-shot is based on one of my fave childhood shows and one of the first villain ships I ever had. (Yes, my 10-year-old self hardcore shipped Darkar & Bloom) 😅 Hope you like it! (Spoilers for some aspects of season 2 of Winx Club. I'm taking from the 4kids version of the show and Nickelodeon special btw. And some mild spoilers for the second movie.)

Also for those who do know the winx cast and want to know who is who in the crossover here it is.

Orihime- Bloom

Ulquiorra- Darkar/Avalon

Tatsuki- Stella

Shizuka- Layla

Ichigo- Prince Sky

Isshin- Errendor

Sora- Daphne

Unohana- Faragonda

Okay now that's all set, here's the fic!

@ulquihimeweek

Ulquihime Week- Day 1 Crossover

The Phoenix and the Dragon

Orihime awoke in a dimly lit room. She didn't remember much, just going into Professor Schiffer's office and then...'And then he changed and turned into the Phoenix.'

"I can sense you. Just come out of the shadows already." She muttered.

Ulquiorra obliged, no longer looking like a human but in his true form as the Shadow Phoenix.

To her he didn't look much different, his skin was paler but his other features remained the same. He had large dark wings and a tail, along with tear markings.

"I should've known it was you. We get warmed about a Shadow Phoenix and next thing we know a new professor shows up at our school."

He chuckled. "Yes well, that didn't occur to you as we bonded, Ms. Inoue."

She lowered her head in shame. Since Ulquiorra arrived at Alfea he had become her favorite teacher, and even offered to teach her about her home kingdom, Sparx, which had been destroyed when she was just a baby.

"Is that why you brought me here? To taunt me?!"

"No, darling. I have other plans for you. Or should I say us?"

"I'll never collaborate with you!"

"You say that now, but you might change your mind after I explain my plans to you."

She frowned, but at the moment there was nothing she could do. Orihime sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can listen to you for a while."

"I appreciate it. First I must ask you something. What do you know about me, Orihime Inoue? Who do you think I am?"

"Headmistress Retsu told us you were once human. That you came to the underealm to try and find the shadow fire, but that it's power consumed you and that now you're seeking to take over the magic universe.

I also know that you came to our school and posed as a professor until now..."

"The headmistress is a wise woman, studious too since she appears to know my origins well, the one commonly excepted that is."

"What do you mean?"

"Indeed, I was once human, that I came here to study the Shadow Fire, but it's power didn't overtake me. For you see, I willingly submitted to it. I'm the one in control, always have been. And while I do wish to take over the magic dimension it is not for my own gain."

"Why else would you want to take over?"

"I want this dimension to change. I want to tear down the structures that bind its kingdoms. I've wanted that since I was a human.

You see, darling, the structures of this dimension are so very ancient and so very obsolete. The squabbles between kingdoms have led to so much war, to destruction, to sadness... Just look at what happened to Sparx."

"My kingdom was destroyed by the ancient witches. Not by war."

"You're right, but your kingdom had a close ally. An ally that should've saved you from the witches, yet instead bargained to have them take your kingdom and spare them. The king of Eraklyon made said bargain."

Orihime grew dizzy. 'No, no it can't be! Ichigo's father wouldn't do that! This is a lie!"

"You think I'm lying, don't you?"

"Of course you're lying! King Isshin wouldn't do that, neither would Ichigo!"

"Analyze the situation, darling. Eraklyon was your closest ally, and yet they didn't suffer any damage as Sparx was destroyed. Your parents vanished, your brother died saving you, your planet is now an icy wasteland. Yet Eraklyon stands as the richest land in Magix. As for your little prince, he was merely a child when this took place, but I don't doubt he'd keep it a secret from you, he has done so before."

Orihime felt as if her skin was catching fire. She hated to be reminded of that lie, to think back when Ichigo had hidden his royal lineage and engagement to a princess. She'd forgiven him, of course, and they were a couple once again, but deep inside she still distrusted him. And a part of her did think Ulquorra's words were true.

'Maybe that's why his father disapproved of us. Not because I'm a princess of a destroyed kingdom, but because my kingdom's destruction was partly his fault...'

"You see, darling. That's only one example of plenty I can give you. All of these realms need someone truly wise to rule them."

"Even if I believed you, that doesn't mean I'll join you. I don't want to kill anyone."

"Who said anything about killing? There are plenty of ways to dethrone a ruler. That's what I crave to do darling. Imagine it, a dimension without destroyed kingdoms, without arranged marriages, without squabbles for the throne. We'd be the only rulers, the royals would be our regents, they'd have to abide by what we demand."

Ulquiorra's eyes glowed green as he spoke. She had seen him like that before in his humanoid form. His eyes always sparkled as he thought her class about History and asked them to be part of the change.

"Ulquiorra, I think it's wonderful that you're trying to make the universe better, but I fail to see why would want me to join you. I'm no leader."

Orihime felt Ulquiorra's cold hand gently lift her chin. "Orihime, you're the only person I've ever met worthy of wearing such a crown.

The reason I posed as a teacher at Alfea wasn't to further my plans, or to steal the codex but to observe you. In just a few months you made such great progress that I couldn't help but be convinced you were worthy of sharing my crown, of carrying the dragon flame, of ruling over Magix.

You came from Earth yet quickly adapted to this dimension, to its power and its costumes. You're kind, fierce, strong, I couldn't ask for a better queen."

He noticed Orihime's pale skin turn bright red, and her sliver eyes grow misty. "No one's ever really praised me like that. Thank you."

He smirked. "I'll be sure to do so more often in the future then."

With a snap of Ulquiorra's fingers, her bounds disappeared. Orihime stood up, directly facing Ulquiorra.

He took her hands in his and directly stared into her eyes, silver meeting emerald. "Orihime Inoue, will you join me in my quest to bring peace and order to the magic dimension?"

It wasn't easy, she didn't want to leave her friends, her school, or even Ichigo. Even after what she learned it felt wrong to vanish without a word.

'But it must be done. Tatsuki-chan will be free to choose who she marries, Nemu-san won't be forced to follow the path her father wants for her, Shizuka-chan won't have to take the throne of the harmonic nebula...even Ichigo would now be free to make his own choices. This would be for the best.'

With a beautiful smile and newfound determination, Orihime finally responded. "Yes, I will."

"Then it is done, our power is now bound."

She could feel a surge of dark magic taking over, but it wasn't unpleasant. Her characteristic blue fae dress was now black and her fairy wings had turned grey. Orihime also noticed Ulquiorra's form slightly changed, his dark wings now had accents of green and he resembled his humanoid form a little more.

"It's the bond." He told her after noticing her confusion. "Light cannot exist without dark and vice versa. As such my darkness had to take some of your light and your light had to take some of my darkness."

Shadow Fire & Dragon Fire were united at last. Orihime was certain that now she and Ulquiorra would be unstoppable. 'We'll fix everything soon.'

"What shall we do now?"

"Since I've acquired all the pieces of the codex, I was thinking we could go to the Relix dimension. Your parents might've vanished there after the destruction of Sparx."

"My parents...I never thought it'd be possible to reach them."

"It is, my darling. We'll bring them back and then return Sparx to its former glory. After that, we can finally reshape the magic dimension into what it should've been from the beginning."

For the first in a long while, Orihime felt like she was doing things right. It would take her friends some time to forgive her, but she knew in time she would join them again. 'I'm doing this for all of us. For me, and for him.'

She gently kissed Ulquiorra's cheek, he blushed at the gesture. "I was not expecting that."

"I'm still a little miffed at you for pretending to be a professor but if we're to be in harmony as rulers this is a good place to start."

"Then I guess I should do my part too."

Ulquiorra wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a passionate kiss. Orihime quickly blushed and playfully shoved him as he let go of her.

"Show off."

"Guilty as charged."

"Y'know, I remember seeing paintings back on earth with dragons and phoenixes together as a couple. Do you think that was a prediction?"

"It could be, after all, the most enduring romances are likely to echo through many universes."

#uhweek2020 #ulquihime #orihime x ulquiorra #Ulquiorra Schiffer #Orihime Inoue #Day 1: Crossover #Winx Crossover AU

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thewitchandtheassassin · 5 years

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Bathroom Tryst (Lena Luthor x Reader)

Prompt: Green 1 and 7 with Lena Luthor?? Could it be a smut fic with the reader being a top?? Thank you and I’ve been enjoying your works :)

Words: 1700

Warnings: SMUT! Strap ons, language

A/N: Again, I apologize for my smut. I’ve literally never written strap on smut so if I fucked this up, please be nice.

-X-

You sipped your wine, free hand on Lena’s thigh as you listened to your girlfriend chat with the former owner of her newest venture. You’d forgotten what his name was and honestly, you didn’t care enough to ask Lena.

His wife and adult children were with him, daughter and son. They were nice enough but you hated the way his son leered at Lena. It was starting to irk you yet you said nothing. Instead, you simply gripped Lena’s exposed thigh, fingers stroking just below the hem of her dress.

What you failed to realize was the underlying tension between his daughter and Lena. She was openly staring at you, lip caught between her teeth as she watched you. She eyed your dark button-up like she was seconds away from ripping it off you, leaving Lena frustrated beyond belief. Only she had the right to look at you in such a manner; you’d dressed up for Lena, not for her.

“What do you do, (Y/N)?” the man’s daughter asked, subtly luring you into a conversation while Lena chatted with her father.

“Oh, I work for CatCo,” you replied proudly. You were working on a project with Kara and Nia at the moment, but you were hopeful it would earn you a Pulitzer.

“Doesn’t Ms. Luthor own that too?” She posed the statement as a question, but there was an obvious dig hidden in there.

Your brows furrowed together. “I’ve been there longer than Lena’s owned it. We actually met because she purchased CatCo.”

His daughter’s smile was fake as she nodded. “Well, if I had someone as charming on my staff as you, I’d have definitely snatched you up too. If you’re ever looking for a new job...”

Her eyes drifted across your chest and you weren’t the only one to notice.

Lena bristled beside you. “Back off, she’s mine.” Though she made it sound like a joke, there was a hint of warning in her eyes and daring on her tongue.

You squeezed Lena’s leg slightly before patting it. “Thank you for the compliment but I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

Lena smirked. She could have leaned over and kissed you for such a refusal, but that was terribly unprofessional and she wasn’t going to let his daughter know that her words had any reaction.

Your hand drifted a little higher up Lena’s leg and she paused, watching you out of the corner of her eye. Her cheeks were slowly growing warm the higher you crept, but she continued conversing with the former owner like nothing was happening.

Inches from her core, you stopped your hand and smiled. Her leg was tense and her jaw was clenched, the only signs that you were having any effect on her. Chuckling quietly to yourself, you reached for your glass of wine and took a hearty drink.

Letting your pinky bridge the gap, you brushed the digit over her clothed center. She gasped slightly, discretely reaching under the table to stop your movements.

“Are you okay, love?” you asked innocently, faux worry on your face.

“I’m fine,” she replied, forcing a smile. “I just though something touched my foot.”

You wanted to smirk, but you kept it away. Lena was a hell of an actress, you’d give her that.

You stood up, knowing fully well Lena would follow. “Excuse me for a moment, I need to use the restroom.”

Starting for the bathroom, you hear another chair scoot. “Wait, darling. I’ll come with you. I need to fix my makeup.”

You stopped, waiting for Lena to join you before you ventured towards the back of the restaurant. Your arm encircled her lithe waist, keeping her at your side as you strolled confidently.

“That wasn’t funny,” Lena said as you stepped into the restroom, her glare holding no malice as she checked her lipstick in the mirror.

You smirked, leaning against the wall so you could study your beautiful, delicious girlfriend. She looked so put together in her tight black dress - and God, did you want to fuck that all up. You wanted to see her debauched, lipstick smeared and her hair a wild mess.

Stalking over to her, you reached around her and locked the door, the “click” audible in the silence of the room.

“What are you doing?” Lena’s brow arched, her painted lips quirking into a curious smile.

Grabbing her hips, you backed her up until she was pinned against the door. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t push you away - not that you had expected her to. This game of cat and mouse - let’s see how far things would go - was pretty common in your relationship. You often teased her at inopportune times but never when it was detrimental or dangerous.

You pressed your hips into hers and a delicate moan escaped red lips. She could feel a bulge in your pants pushing against her and suddenly her mind went cloudy with lust. You were packing, something you didn’t do often in public.

“Oh God,” she murmured, lacing her fingers at the base of your neck.

You smirked. One hand slid down to the hem of her dress, rucking it up slightly, while the other skated across her chest, barely brushing hardening nipples.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” you said seriously, eyeing your lover. You’d never do anything she wasn’t comfortable with and if she decided she didn’t want to do this here - now - then that was fine.

Lena moaned, her hips jerking into yours as you circled her nipple with your finger.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her lips touching yours. It was a simple touch, not enough to smear her lipstick but enough that you could exchange breaths.

Flicking your tongue over her upper lip, you dropped to your knees and hiked up her dress so you could kiss along her smooth thighs. You nibbled on the sensitive flesh, leaving behind marks that only you two would know were there. You could smell her arousal, the scent heady and sweet.

It was driving you mad.

You shoved her dress up to her hips and swiped your tongue over black lace, earning a low whine. Divulging her of her underwear, you tucked them into your back pocket and dived in, your tongue and lips massaging swollen flesh. You sucked greedily, moaning as she buried her fingers in your hair. Maybe you were the one who was going to walk out of here looking rather undone.

She shuddered as your moan reverberated through her. She was getting closer with each dedicated flick of your tongue but she wanted - no, she needed - more.

“(Y/N),” she gasped desperately, silently begging you to fuck her.

You stood, your hand replacing your mouth as you circled her clit, your strokes strong and determined. Her hands came to your waist and she started undoing your pants, her hands shaking as she tried to focus. It was hard, considering she was teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

Your fake appendage finally sprang out of your pants and you grinned. Lena was staring at the blue strap on like it was a lifeline and you couldn’t wait to bury it inside her.

Your hand left her core and you rubbed her arousal over the silicon before grasping it. You pressed against Lena, slowly rubbing it along her heated center. She squirmed, her hands coming to your shoulders and nails digging in deep.

“Stop teasing,” she demanded breathlessly.

Smirking, you lined up the dildo with her entrance and carefully pushed inside her. She moaned - loudly - as you slid deep, her breath catching in her throat as you bottomed out the best you could. Working your hips slowly, you pulled out before thrusting back inside.

Her wetness smeared onto your pants and you were so glad you decided to wear black. She was so inviting, dragging you in deeper with every thrust and you wished for a split second that you could feel it - feel that connection.

"God don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” Lena begged as you picked up the pace, your lips attaching themselves to her neck though you only placed kisses along it. You’d hate to leave a mark and everyone know what you’d done.

Your hand dipped low and you started playing with her slick, engorged clit as you pounded into her. By the way she gripped at you, you could tell she was close. Her breathing was labored and her nails dug so far into your shoulders that you were surprised she hadn’t ripped your shirt.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N),” she chanted, eyes rolling back in her head.

A few more thrusts pushed her over the edge and she bit back a scream, her head slamming into the door behind her. You slowed your pace, helping her ride out her pleasure before slipping out of her. You didn’t cum but that was okay. This was about her.

Besides, she would definitely make it up to you later.

She panted, her forehead landing on your shoulder as she came down from her high. Her arms shakily encircled your neck; you were the only thing keeping her upright. You embraced her, careful not to accidentally touch her with your arousal-soaked hand.

You’d hate to ruin such a lovely dress.

“I love you,” she whispered, tilting her head so she could press a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

Smiling adoringly, you replied, “I love you too.”

She released you and cautiously walked to the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. For the most part, she looked rather normal. Her hair was still in its tight ponytail and, despite having flushed cheeks, her makeup was untouched.

You readjusted yourself, sliding the dildo back into your pants, before following her lead. You washed off your hands, grinning at the love of your life. You could feel her panties in your pocket but you weren’t giving them back.

You pecked Lena’s cheek as you dried off your hands. “Ready?”

She nodded, tucking her hand in the crook of your arm. You walked out of the bathroom, grateful that no one was waiting outside.

That would have been awkward.

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #reader #reader insert #reader imagine #supergirl imagine #dc imagine

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lilaclovestowrite · 4 years

Text

Arcade Chaos (Katsuki x Cheerful!Reader)

“ Bakugo oneshot with cheerful!reader at arcade plz? ”

Type: Request from Quotev

Words: 2556

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Hint of fluff, lots of Katsuki rage lol, and mainly humor

Summary: Somehow, you’re able to drag your crush, Katsuki Bakugou, to an arcade for the day. Of course, this creates chaos, since the Bakusquad happens to be there as well. But maybe, after all the chaos, you’ll finally be able to confess your true feelings to him!

Warnings:

None

💥💥💥

“Why the heck are we in this lame place!?” questioned an irritated Katsuki.

“Cuz arcades are fun!” I answered, leading him in by the hand. He was very resistant—but he was no match for my nonexistent strength.

“Fun? This place is for nerds who live in their mom’s basement. Just like stupid—”

“Deku, yeah, yeah,” I finished for him with a blasé attitude. “I’ve heard it all before. Why don’t you just focus on something else besides Midoriya?”

“Pfft, like what?”

“Uh, something that actually matters. Video games, obviously.”

“I’m leaving.” Just as he tried to escape, I pulled him back.

“Get yer hands off me!” He flicked his wrist away from me, and huffed as he scanned the arcade’s interior.

“Come on, please stay with me for just an hour? PLEEEEEAAAASSSEEEEEE~!?” I forcefully smiled, holding my hands together in a purposely pathetic pose.

“Well, you already kidnapped me so—whatever. And what’s the difference between these games and the ones on my phone? Only geeks play these chunky, 8-bit fossils.”

“Trust me. You’ll see,” I vaguely left as an answer.

After I dragged Katsuki around the building, I asked him if anything caught his eye. “So, do you know what game you wanna play?”

“’Nuke the Zombies’ didn’t look too trashy, I guess.”

I blinked once. “Uhh, how about something more child-friendly?”

“Fine. How about ’Blow up the Bunny’ then?”

Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

“Let’s not.”

But what we didn’t know, is that our other friends happened to be here as well! Eijiro, Denki, Hanta, and Mina approached us all at once.

“Wow! Hey, guys! Nice to see you here,” Eijiro greeted.

Hanta laughed. “Didn’t really expect to see you two here. . .specifically, together.”

“The heck you mean by that!?” Katsuki nearly erupted, but I held him back.

“Oh, y’know—just figured you’d be at home plotting your revenge for Midoriya or something.”

His response only earned him a snarl from Katsuki. But Mina, on the other hand, decided to push all of Katsuki’s buttons without thinking.

“Maybe they’re on a date!!” she gasped. “WAIT, ARE YOU—”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!! This isn’t a heckin’ date!” Katsuki debunked. “She bugged me nonstop about coming to this trash hole, and finally got on my nerves, so I came.”

By the smug look on my friend’s faces—they were obviously not buying it. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have minded it if were a date. Considering I’ve always had a thing for Katsuki. People may have thought I was crazy for liking someone so spastic with anger management issues—but there was more to him than just his atrocious personality. He had a lot of admirable qualities like uh, well, I’ll think of some later.

“Alright then~” Mina giggled.

“Guys, when can we play some games?” asked Denki.

“Right now!” Eijiro made an immediate beeline for Whac-A-Mole. “Bakugou, you gotta try out this game! I used to play it when I was younger, and it’s so much fun.”

“The heck is it?”

Katsuki stormed over and studied the attributes of the vintage game, while Eijiro explained the rules of it to him.

“And when the mole thing rises up, you just hit it with this mallet!”

“Pfft, sounds like a baby game. Pass.”

“Aw, c’mon!” I joined in, trying to convince him to try it out.

Hanta agreed, “Yeah! Don’t be such a wet blanket, man.”

After all our nagging, he eventually gave in and reluctantly picked up the game mallet. “Gross, a thousand brats probably got their diseased germs all over this thing.”

“They’re not as diseased as your attitude, that’s for sure—”

“COME AGAIN, KNOCK-OFF PIKACHU!?!”

“Hey, hey,” Eijiro tried calming. “Just try one round at least!”

“Ugh, fine.”

Once the game started, the plastic moles slowly rose up from their holes, and each one was hammered by Katsuki. He displayed his obvious boredom through stance and expression.

“This game is about as fun as watching paint dry.”

“Oh, it gets harder,” I snickered.

“This is about as hard as using Deku as a football.”

But he was soon showed otherwise—as the game’s difficulty increased. The moles now only stayed up for half a second now, and even Katsuki was having a hard time keeping up.

“C’mon, dude! Whack them!” Eijiro cheered.

“THIS STUPID MALLET ISN’T WORKING!!!” he screeched, causing the rest of the people around us to stare. It was a bit embarrassing. But that’s my penalty for going out in public with Katsuki. “DIE, RATS, DIEEEEEE!!!!” So, he dropped the mallet, and just started exploding the moles with his hands.

And of course, the result was he melted the arcade machine. All the moles were now nothing but liquefied plastic, which was totally uncalled for compared to the games standards.

I walked back to my friend’s table with Katsuki by my side.

“Alright, I just called Katsuki’s therapist and he was able to, er—scream out his issues. So, I think we’re good!” I informed with a thumbs up.

“My therapist can bite rocks.”

I let out a sigh of disappointment at his rude response.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Did you see any games that caught your eye?” Hanta wondered.

I answered with, “Hmm. . .well, I did wanna play Whac-A-Mole. But now it’s melted into the flooring, so. . .”

“It wasn’t even fun,” Katsuki downplayed. “I have more fun beating Deku. Wait—they should make a game called Whac-A-Deku. Now, I’d play that.”

We only stared at our friend, mildly disturbed.

Hanta said, “Pac-Man it is, then.”

After playing a few more games, we headed to the eating area. We ordered some pizza and soda, so we just chatted as we ate.

“You guys, what do you think is better? Pac-Man or Ms. Pac-Man?” asked Mina.

“They’re the same thing, Raccoon Eyes.”

“NO, PAC-MAN IS A MAN, AND MS. PAC-MAN IS A WOMAN.”

I awkwardly nibbled on my pizza, watching the conversation between them take a nosedive for the worst.

“Guys, is butter a carb?” Katsuki asked us.

Denki replied, “I don’t know—I don’t watch Gordon Ramsey.”

“Whatever, I’m getting cheese fries.” He launched his pizza in the trash can (which he carelessly missed), and headed back to the ordering station.

Just as Katsuki got out of earshot, Mina immediately began interrogating me.

“So. . .ya sure you two weren’t on a date~?”

I went red with total shock and embarrassment. “What? No way! He doesn’t like me like that.”

Hanta chuckled. “He liked you enough for you to literally drag him here. That’s like, a deathwish for most people.”

I knew he had a point.

Eijiro said, “Plus, he needs a girlfriend. He needs someone to keep him fairly sane.”

All their talking had me blushing. Yes, I liked Katsuki a lot—but I never thought it’d go any further than that. However, you never know about these kind of things.

“So. . .should I ask him out or something?” I hesitantly questioned.

“Go ahead! I mean, there’s not a line of girls trying to date him, that’s for sure.”

I took it into consideration. Maybe today, I should try to make a move. I mean, YOLO, amirite?

“Alright, I’ll try next time I see him,” I gulped.

They all smiled uncontrollably, but instinctively stopped once Katsuki returned to the table.

“Why’re you idiots all staring at me like a bunch of idiots?”

“Oh, uh—well. . .” I mentally prepared myself for rejection. I knew all my friends were bursting at the seams, waiting for me to confess my feelings to Katsuki. But it was just so awkward. So, I chickened out. “I uh, wanted to know if you were gonna share your cheese fries with me.”

“What does share mean?”

I could hear Eijiro facepalm. So, I ended the awkwardness with, “Nothing! Just eat your fries—”

Later, we all continued searching for what else to play.

So, I cleared my throat to get everyone’s attention. “Ahem. How about we do something that’s multiplayer?”

“You mean like a competition?” Katsuki wondered, a psychotic smile forming on his face once the idea of winning first place entered his mind. Now, we were all scared.

“Uh, you’re smiling like a psycho again—I MEAN, uh, yeah! We just need to find a game that allows two players. . .and one that isn’t taken.” As I examined the room and every one of its consoles, I found one that caught my eye.

Dance Dance Revolution (DDR).

“Hmm, I know! That one!” I excitedly pointed to the one I was referring to.

“OMG, that one is so cool! I used to play it when I was younger!” Mina beamed.

“Oh, great. Dancing? I thought you’d pick something that would actually hold my interest. Like no-scoping zombies or something.”

I crossed my arms and said the thing I knew would make him do what I wanted. “What? You think you can’t beat me? Think I’m gonna win instead~?”

“Pfft, in your dreams. I’d beat you at any game at any time of the week. You’re a lame gamer.”

“You think so, eh? Well, let’s just find out!” I skipped over to the DDR machine and patiently waited for the two children to finish up their round. However, patience wasn’t an idea Katsuki could process in his arrogant brain.

“Hit the road, punks! I’ve got a game to win!” He shoved the two kids off, and cleared the platforms for both of us. I tried mouthing an apology to the two schoolboys, but they had already escaped to find their parents.

Katsuki extended his arms and stretched out his fingers. Eijiro and Hanta approached me, asking if I was sure this was a good idea. I knew Katsuki was unhealthily obsessed with winning, but that only made it more fun being his opponent, at least in my opinion! (Plus, seeing him fail was ten-times funnier).

“Go easy on her, dude,” Denki tried helping out.

“No way, Calamari. I’m not a braindead loser like you.” Finishing up his mini exercise, he stepped onto the dance platform. “What’re you waiting for, girly?” Katsuki snarked at me with a confident smirk.

I stepped on mine as well, and scrolled through the list of songs to perform. “We could start with easy mode,” I offered.

“No way. Go for the hardest mode you can find.”

Someone was going to break their legs, and it wasn’t going to be Midoriya this time around.

“Oh. . .well, uh—alright!” I landed my finger on this Vocaloid song called The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku, which was apparently the most challenging one on this menu. “Alright, there’s the modes: Beginner, Intermediate, Pro, Master, and uh, Death.”

“Choose Death then.”

With a cloud of anxiousness looming over my figure, I pressed that option. I didn’t know what to expect—but I was scared.

“How bad can it be?” chuckled Eijiro.

Oh, but it was pain. It was the most torture I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.

When the gameplay started, it wasn’t too hard in the intro of the song. But when the fast part came, it was like we were dancing to save our lives. People in the building came to spectate us and our anguish—but our friends cheered us on the entire time.

“REEEEEEEEE, END MEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Katsuki screeched as he barely managed to touch the flashing tiles on his platform.

I felt as if I was jumping across a room full of nails sticking straight up. I could barely keep up with the beat of the song, and I was already exhausted. But we weren’t even halfway into it.

“BEATING ALL FOR ONE IS EASIER THAN THIS TORTURE MACHINE!” roared Katsuki.

“You’re almost to the beat break!” Hanta reassured.

Finally, the first verse of the song ended. So, our legs could take a break for a few seconds. Katsuki and I were desperately trying to regain oxygen, since it was such a rush. When we looked at our current scores—I saw that I was luckily five points higher than Katsuki.

“WHAT THE HECK!? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE!?” he raged.

“HA.”

Everyone cheered for me at the moment, but Katsuki wasn’t having it. He was more than determined to beat me now.

When the gameplay resumed, we continued to push ourselves to dance on the correct tiles. Our scores were nearing closer together, and it was only a matter of time before one of us passed each other for good and won.

“ALMOST THERE,” Katsuki spoke to himself, as he glimpsed at his own score.

But just the moment before it was all over, Denki accidentally activated his Quirk due to the hype building up in his system—and it shot out at the DDR machine, causing it to short-circuit and die.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Katsuki bellowed out, as he fell on his knees and placed his hands on the now black screen. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, STUPID PIKACHU!!!”

However, it was pointless because Denki already fried his brain and went dumb. “Wheyyyy~”

Eijiro couldn’t help but laugh hysterically, along with Hanta and Mina. It only made Katsuki’s blood boil—and frankly, I couldn’t help but giggle too.

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS PAIN.” Katsuki stood up and stalked out of the arcade. Of course, I followed him.

“Katsuki! Don’t be upset. It’s only a game.”

“I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING!” he fumed. “I COULD HAVE BROKEN THE STUPID RECORD—”

“Shh, just relax! They’ll probably fix it, and we can always come back later.” I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which he surprisingly didn’t flick off.

“Hmph. I’m never playing that demon game ever again.”

I laughed softly. “Well, there’s plenty of other games. But other than the fact Denki shut off the game—did you have fun?”

He turned his head to me, and for I moment, I swear I saw his eyes soften by a fraction. “Maybe a little—but not that much.”

I’ll take that as a yes, coming from him.

But now that we were together with no other distractions, I decided to take a risk and slide my hand into his. He widened his eyes—since affection was probably a concept far removed from his unfriendly mentality.

I looked down at the floor and smiled, saying, “I was thinking, Katsuki. Would you uh, would you consider being my Player Two?”

I didn’t even care how cheesy I was being at this point.

“The heck does that mean?”

Our friends screamed from a distance, “SHE’S ASKING YOU OUT, GENIUS!”

Katsuki stiffened up, since he was struggling to find a riposte to throw back in my face. But it was relentless. Instead, he let out a sigh and told me, “That’s the sappiest and most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard—but sure. You’re not as annoying as the others.”

I strained my cheeks from smiling so much, and I threw my arms gleefully around Katsuki. The others were probably afraid he’d blow up or something, but thankfully, he didn’t. Instead, he returned the favor by awkwardly rubbing my head.

“They’re so cute together~” sighed Mina.

“Yeah, Bakugou better not screw it up,” Eijiro added with a smile.

“It’s Bakugou, he screws everything up.”

“True.”

Maybe coming to this place was a good idea after all~

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vashstash · 4 years

Note

Hi! I've recently started to get back into drawing, do you have any tips on how to practice drawing people and developing a style? I love your work and I want to create a similar style!

Hi anon! Sorry for the wait!I need you to listen very, very carefully.You open MS Paint and-Ok seriously though that’s a first for me holy shit (never been asked about this before) but I’ll try to give you some pointers on what I found useful for my hoomans. I don’t think it’s very universal because my brain has it’s own weird-ass mechanics, but maybe it’ll help you out a little!

The thing that I do on a daily basis and skip very rarely are gesture drawings. There’s a lot of approaches to the subject and it might get confusing but it’s important to try several ones, so you can find one that works for you best. I have 3 modes that I apply for myself while studying

30sec gestures these are real good for turning off your “detail radar” where you can focus on rhythm and forces going through the pose

1-2 min ones where you can try and add some of the form indications to your drawings

no time limit- because sometimes it’s good to slow down and look at the pose a bit longer, there are pros and cons to it because you might start overfocusing on the tiniest bumps on human bodies

Gestures are real good for your visual library and are super helpful when you’re trying to invent poses from imagination and portraying emotions. It’s important to remember that it’s not only limited to human face. I highly recommend getting familiar with books, vids, tutorials about animation because animators are MVPs when it comes to character acting, dynamism and simplification.Proportions that’s still a thing I keep working on, I find I tend to go way to hard on my instincts sometimes which ends with a loOOooOOT of fixing. So like, don’t do that don’t be me. Get yourself some body/facial proportion sheets that you can keep on a side while you draw and try to remember them and apply it but don’t get trapped in them, humans have different proportions and your model is not always a 9 head tall himbo with bricks for muscles- try and measure them. Same’s with bodytypes! Variety is a spice for an interesting character! Anatomy Studies this is where I’m still searching for a good method of learning, there are days when I sit down and I have zero clue what the hell should I learn. I usually separate these to head features and rest of the body( upper-lower), watch some vids or read some books/tutorials on their anatomical properties, then i jump to simplification to forms and try practicing their structure and placement. Recently I picked a habit of listing things that I hate to study and doing 50-100 drawings of them. Form, overlaps, perspective: Definitely haven’t mastered that, but what I can’t stress enough how much easier it is for me to draw now, when I can have some more comfort in that field. Boxes are boring but they can be your Lego and you’ll be building that sick-ass R2-D2 1:1 in no time. These bitches called hands it’s very easy for human eye to spot awkwardly drawn hands, we’ve all been there and hid them behind character’s back. They can make you cry in the middle of the night but it’s good to give them a proper studying. Emotions I find that I can forgive myself some technical imperfections, when I’m happy with emotional side of my piece. I like to be invested into characters and their stories, and empathize with them and I want people to feel the same when they see my drawings.STYLEWhich is a very subjective thing and I don’t think mine’s very consistent,but there are things that work for me when I try and get into actual analytical mode. Your taste in people: Everyone has different standards for beauty/ugliness/interesting/uncanny etc. it’s good to have some collections of photos/screenshots of characters that click/or don’t click with you or your friends (this is good when you feel stuck in your comfort zone) It works for both body types and faces.Influences: I have big ass moodboards with my fave art, that i spread into categories (like anatomy, lineweight, composition, character design, simplification yadda yadda), it’s very helpful when you’re trying to navigate what would you like your art to be. Maybe you’d like to go more realistic? Or more cartoonish? Maybe you’ll go for several approaches? Don’t be afraid to Frankenstein a little spice here and there to your main approach. You can copy/trace some features from your fave artists to understand their shape language better and try to apply their problem-solving to your own pieces.Tools: I started digital pretty late, so I have some experience in drawing with traditional tools like nibs, microns, brushpens, calligraphy brushes and my all-time favorite- mr cheap ballpoint. I took a lot of it into my digital work and I still do most of my warmups and studies on paper. Cross-training is very helpful. It’s good to take the tools one at a time, but once you get some confidence you’ll find new and very cool ways to spice your artwork up and learn from experimentation. I know it might look a bit overwhelming, because it is a lot but don’t worry! Even if you only manage 20 minutes or 1h a day it’s still a time spent learning and developing your skills!Good luck with your studying!

#Anonymous #vashplies #i am in no way an authority or anything in here #but i'm doing what i can and i hope something here is going to be useful for you!#it's really funny to reply to this after posting two terrible memes

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charlesoberonn · 5 years

Text

Ms. Mailbox - Part 1

(This one turned out long so I’m splitting it up into parts. I’ll write the rest soon)

It all started when I busted up her mailbox. This isn’t a euphamism for sex, I mean it literally. I drove by with my buddy and smashed her mailbox with an aluminium baseball box.

That turned out to be a bad idea almost immediately. The bat was bent all out of shape, and my wrist was all mangled and sprained. The mailbox was bent too, but only barely. Overall an unproductive session of vandalism.

My friend drove me to the hospital right away. I remember thinking as I was waiting in agony about how awful everyone around me in the waiting room were. How much more deserving of treatment I was. I didn’t even think about what I did to bring this on myself.

After staying home for a couple of days, my parents finally scraped me off the living room couch and got me to go back to school, injured arm and all.That morning, I walked through the hall with a sour face and an armsling. When an athlete boy does it, his friends all support him, but I didn’t have friends in this school.

Before first period I was summoned to the principal’s office. He was a stern man, yet at the same time it seemed like all the life had been drained from him and he didn’t give a single fuck anymore. He told me that he knew how I got injured like this. It wouldn’t be my first act of “hooliganism” as he said, but he couldn’t prove it. So he assigned me somebody who’ll help take notes for me.

That’s when I noticed Ms. Mailbox waiting outside. She was a year younger than me, and quite a bit shorter, somebody who could easily escape notice if it wasn’t for her beautiful golden hair and her pretty doll face.

I didn’t know she was Ms. Mailbox at the time. I had no idea whose mailbox I smashed that day. But thinking about it now, I think she did know, even back at the principal’s office.

The principal gestured her forth and she went inside, quickly and politely sitting beside me. She turned to look at me and introduced herself with a smile. But there was something weird about that smile, it clashed with poorly concealed bags under her eyes.

She went to shake my hand with her right hand. Since my right hand was currently in a sling, I shook it with my left and we had an odd and unsymmetric handshake. Afterwards, the principal unceremoniously drove us out of his office. I was happy to leave.

I didn’t need to be introduced to Ms. Mailbox, I knew who she was and she. And she knew who I was. As we exited the office, a third girl was waiting for us. Taller than me, with blue highlights in her hair and an eyebrow piercing. With no warning, Ms. Mailbox and Bluebird kissed, right in front of me. I almost gagged and looked away in second-hand embarrassment. Though I don’t think there was any first-hand embarrassment in their embrace.

It was hard being one of only 3 out lesbians in the whole school. Even worse than 3 being such a small number, it’s an odd number, and I was the one left out without a date. Not that I liked any of them. In fact, in that moment I decided I hated them. Especially Ms. Mailbox. That hate wouldn’t last til the end of the day, as I would later find out.

She kept waving her girlfriend in a flirty way as we walked to my first class of the day. I just sighed under my breath. As if I wasn’t in enough pain already.

First period was fine, I didn’t have to do anything in terms of writing, but the teacher kept eyeing me to make sure I’m listening, which was a bit awkward. My eyes darted towards Ms. Mailbox, she worked fast. I figured she would just write stuff down and then give me a copy, but she actually wrote everything twice. First in her notebook, and then while everybody was still copying off the board, she copied off her own writing in my notebook. It was crazy.

I wanted to comment on it, but the teacher’s hawkish stare made me a bit scared to even open my mouth to yawn, so I just looked. After a while, the mesmerising sight of Ms. Mailbox’s quick and neat handwriting got me in some sort of daze. My eyes drifted upward to her face, her eyes which darted about the page, and her pink painted lips, which were slightly apart as she wrote, and closed again when she looked up.

Near the end of the class, she turned suddenly to look at me. Almost gave me a heart attack. I instinctively used my hand to hold the table, not remembering that it’s injured. I winced in pain. And the bitch giggled at me.

Later after class I told her I was impressed with her. Then I clarified I meant her handwriting after she gave me a long pause. She smiled, and I sheepishly smiled back and thanked her. Blegh.

The next period was gym, where she wouldn’t be of much use, but she insisted on coming along to help me anyway. I told her it was pointless, and she should go to her own class, but she told me back that she had no use of going to class anymore. I was perplexed, but I let it slide and let her come with me.

The gym coach told me that even though my arm was injured, I could still do some leg exercises. I bullshited to her something about my wrist being too hurt to move and got a full pass, though I’ve been warned that I would have to make up whatever exercises I missed. I scoffed. To my surprise, Ms. Mailbox scoffed with me.

We sat on the bleachers and watched the other girls play. I was bored. My phone had to be placed in the box when we entered the gym. I tried leaning on my healthy arm but couldn’t find a pose that didn’t get in the way of my sling.

“Here, you can lean on me.” I heard Ms. Mailbox offer me. I gave her a weird look and declined.

“What’s up with you?” I asked her, in an admitedly very impolite way.

“What do you mean? Can’t I offer a girl in need a place to rest her head?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes? What? Ew, no. Not like that. Thank you very much.” she scoffed again. “I just want to be helpful.”

“You already are helpful.” I told her.

“Thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment, just stating a fact.” I leaned back and rolled my eyes.

“Facts can be compliments.”

“Do you want it to be a compliment?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

She paused. “Ew.”

We sat in silence a bit, I half heartedly glanced at the girls playing volleyball. It was almost hot, looking at their bodies bouncing up and down and getting sweaty. I would’ve been hot if they didn’t all suck at volleyball. Not like I could complain, though. I couldn’t even hit a mailbox right.

I yawned and leaned back a bit too far, my butt sliding off the narrow and slippery bleacher and I stumbled. I tried to grab at the next seat with my foot but I slid right under it, I was going down. But only until I was caught by a surprisingly sturdy grip from Ms. Mailbox, who grabbed at my armpit and helped me back up.

“Thanks.” I said, my voice a bit unstable from the jump the near-fall gave me.

“Is your arm alright?”

“What? Oh yeah.” I checked on it. She went to check on it as well, but I swatted her hand away. Gently.

“May I ask how you got it?”

“You may not.”

“Okay.” she seemed a bit disappointed.

I paused, thinking for a bit. My eyes were wandering again, down her face from her pretty blue eyes and slightly puffy cheeks.

“Only if you tell me why you don’t go to class.”

“Oh!” she perked up immediately. “Well...... I do study. Just not here. I study at university level.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel immediately incompetent in comparison.

“University level?”

“I finished all high school exams last year, more or less. So they let me go to uni from Monday-Wednesday.”

“But until the academic school year starts you’re stuck here with the rest of us.”

“Very observant.”

“Thank you.” I paused again. “So like, do you have university friends and stuff?”

“What? Oh yeah, I do. Wanna see some pics?” she pulled out her phone. I immdiately went to hide it.

“Wait, not here.” I pointed to a loose seat that led to under the bleachers.

She nodded, and we quietly scooted over to it and down under. Ms. Mailbox helped me down the narrow hole by supporting my slinged arm.

It was cosy in there, the only light coming from screwless screwholes and her phone screen. She showed me pictures of her friends. Most of them seemed pretty boring. Dudes and dudettes in vest and glasses sitting in study halls and buried in their books or on the computers. Even more than people, she pictures of statues there, and trees, and the buildings themselves.

“Damn girl, did you take a pic of every branch on campus?” I whispered.

She giggled in response. “Only the interesting ones.”

We made sure to get back up and sit idly in place for when the coach came back to dismiss us and give us our phones back. Then we moved on to the next period laughing among ourselves at pictures of amateur student art projects that Ms. Mailbox took.

The rest of the day went smoothly. We mostly just talked, often during class, which pissed off the teachers but I found hilarious. To my surprise, Ms. Mailbox found it funny too. I didn’t know that at the time, but I was already rubbing off on her. We tried keeping our chats down low, but by the end of the day neither of us gave any fucks and we were talking quite loudly. Needless to say we were kicked out of the class.

As we were waiting outside the classroom for the bell to ring so we could take our bags and go home, Ms. Mailbox asked a question.

“Hey, how did you sprain your wrist? You said you would tell me.”

“I did.” I shifted a bit uncomfortably, becoming suddenly aware of the little to no distance between us.

“Was it as bad as the principal said?” she elaborated.

“Pretty much.” I answered naturally, as thought I’ve known her for years. I kind of regreted being so open a moment later, but at this point it was too late, I was already mid-answer. And I did sort of promised her. So I spilled the beans.

“Yeah, it was bad, I guess.” I soft-balled. “I smashed a mailbox with a baseball bat out of a moving vehicle. Thought the mailbox would break. Turns out I broke first.” I chuckled, trying to pass it off as a no-big-deal. Just a funny anecdote.

“I see.” was all Ms. Mailbox said.

There was a silence between us, and I felt a strange uncomfortable feeling I haven’t had since I was a child. I felt like I was being judged, and more than that, that I cared about the judgement.

“You s-” I wanted to make a snarky a remark, but just at that moment the bell rang.

We both hurried back into the class before the torrent of students spilled out of it. The teacher was the last to leave before us, and gave us a stink eye as she went out the door. It was just the two of us now.

The tension from before hadn’t gone away, in fact it was heavier.

“You’re not surprised?” I turned my head down. “You had me all figured out for a Bad Girl already, huh?” I tried picking up my backpack with my healthy arm, but getting it to stay on my back was a challenge. It was kind of ruining the cool apathetic vibe I was going for.

Ms. Mailbox put on her backpack and reached up help me. She put on the straps on my shoulders with efficiency and gentleness. I could swear I felt her rub my shoulderblades a bit as she did.

“No, that’s not it. I just deduced that’s what you did.” she explained.

“Deduced?” I asked like a clueless idiot.

“Yeah.” she walked out of the classroom and looked back at me with a pair of beautiful eyes. “It was my mailbox you smashed.”

With that, Ms. Mailbox became Ms. Mailbox. And the seeds of something between us were starting to sprout.

#writing #wlw #long post

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bacejelerenvorthos · 4 years

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MTG Artist Interview: Matt Stewart

We are very delighted to have long-time Magic artist and generally nice guy Matt Stewart in an exclusive interview today! Matt has done so many incredible pieces for Magic in the recent years, but today we look at one of his great works from Theros Beyond Death!

Daniel: Hi Matt! Thanks so much for taking the time to share your artistic process with us fans. Your work is stunning. How long have you been doing art for Magic: the Gathering?

Matt Stewart: I’ve been illustrating cards for Magic: The Gathering for close to fourteen years. My first commissions were Narcomoeba and Ramosian Revivalist for the Future Sight set.

D: For those of us who love your work, where can we find more of your artwork (outside of your Magic pieces)?

MS: Outside of Magic, I’ve worked for other clients such as Fantasy Flight Games, Blizzard, Tor Books, The Easton Press. I also take commissions from private collectors, as well as producing personal work for my own enjoyment. You can see this stuff, along with the latest for Magic on my website, matthew-stewart.com, or follow Matthew Stewart illustration on instagram and facebook.

D: Is there one Magic world or character that if given the chance you’d love to paint?

MS: I’ve had the pleasure of painting a lot of Magic’s best characters in one way or another. If there’s anything I regret missing out on, it would be the Lorwyn block. I enjoyed taking a crack at Gaddock Teeg, and would love to paint more Kithkin.

D: Let’s talk about one of your current pieces for Theros Beyond Death- Nessian Wanderer. Tell us about your process for painting this piece.

MS: Every job for Magic starts with the Art description:

Art Title: [Satyr Wanderer] Setting: Theros Color: Green creature Location: Any FORESTED area in the MORTAL REALM Action: Show a MALE SATYR following a WINDING PATH along the ground. The NYX STARFIELD EFFECT should be obvious in the shadowed surfaces of the WINDING PATH The satyr looks MERRY and LIGHTHEARTED—he’s on an adventure! Focus: The satyr Mood: Merry, lighthearted, carefree

When I get an assignment, I usually start with thumbnail sketches in a toned paper sketchbook. These little sketches help me decide what I’m going to paint as well as the design of the composition. The gray paper allows me to quickly plan out the areas of light and dark. The light and dark are important to create an illustration that is readable at card size (about 1.5 inches by 2 inches). I continue to develop the idea in my sketchbook until I arrive at an idea I think will work.

This sketchbook work is a guide for the next step, which is gathering reference. This might involve shooting photos of models posing, gathering images from books or online or my own photo files, building models, etc. For Nessian Wanderer, I posed myself, which I do often. With all this information, I create a full value digital sketch. “Value” is a term used to describe the range of tones of light to dark. I like doing sketches in full value because it’s more like painting and allows me to plan the depth much better than a line drawing.

And after that, I often do a quick digital color study to get the basic palette down. This comprehensive sketch serves as the framework for the painting. A lot of the work of creating an image is in these sketch stages, and will hopefully will ensure a smooth painting process where all the questions are answered before picking up a paint brush. The sketch is sent to the art director for approval. Either the image will be approved or changes requested When everything is approved, I print out a copy of the image, enlarged to the size of the final painting, and transferred to the painting surface. I use graphite transfer paper to trace the image onto the board. The drawing is refined a bit more in pencil, and then sealed with acrylic matte medium, which is clear, so the drawing can be seen underneath. Then I start the painting. When the painting is finished, it’s photographed and a photo sent to the client for another round of approval/changes. After any changes, the high resolution image is sent in.

Thank you Matt for this insightful interview and for giving us this beloved satyr of Theros who just seems to be having such a grand time! We look forward to all of your future work and please come back again!

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cyberzombiepenguin · 4 years

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My Photoshop Pixel Art Thingy

Participating in the Arts (pixel animation workshops):

GIF 1 - My Final Animated Character

The creative pixel animation workshops at UCA (through KaMCOP) are an amazing opportunity for young people, who do not have access to good facilities; or may have poor future prospects, especially in terms of quality education. As a youth with aspirations, I wanted to take part in this activity because I hoped to learn how to create animation and GIFs in Adobe Photoshop. I personally cannot afford to buy Photoshop and have not been privileged enough to attend a school where it was available to use -- ACCESS DENIED! ⛔

So, I really hoped, that by partaking in the pixel animation workshops, that I would get the chance to learn how to animate and how to develop animated characters using the latest software, and to have access to University facilities. I hoped to learn how to navigate and use Photoshop to create pixelated GIFs, and therefore, improve my skill-set and knowledge, so that I could improve my chances of further education. I also wanted to get my Bronze Arts Award to add to my qualifications.

The Pixel Art/Animation workshops were extremely enjoyable and entertaining. Our brief was to create a 2D animated character in Adobe Photoshop. First, we practiced and drafted our characters on card and acetate. Then we uploaded into Photoshop and edited until we had the desired effect. We used layers and all the necessary tools available in Photoshop.

Using Photoshop is really hard. This was my first experience using Photoshop and I must say that I did learn a lot. I know that it isn’t much, but trying to make a person walk is very difficult, to try and move the arms and the legs in the right way to make them look like they are actually walking was so much harder than I thought it would be. However, I did learn to create a walk-cycle (thank goodness!). There are so many different Photoshop tools to use, and to fully utilise them would take forever to master. I hoped to learn as much as possible about animating, creating characters and to get a good grip on using Photoshop.

To pull off an accurate walking-cycle, you need to draw the person (or being) in the ‘Contrast and Passing’ poses, where their legs are apart and their arms are up to where their legs meet and their arms are down. I tried really hard, using the brush-tool, to draw a person walking and I could only manage the blurry silhouette in the second GIF (see GIF at the bottom of this section). I thought that if I created the walking cycle first, then, I could create a character around that frame; but soon after doing that, I realised that it was very hard. So, I stuck with a silhouette and I thought that (with some help) if I put in a drawing that I already had at hand into Photoshop, I could draw around them and animate them and it would look pretty cool. After tracing around the buff-man in the second GIF, I once again realised that animation is difficult and decided not to move him, but instead use the the silhouetted character to walk up to him (kinda).

With the Ghost GIF (at the top of this post), the idea came to me through advice, and that advice was to keep it simple with designs that I am used to drawing. They suggested that I draw a ghost, similar to the ghost that I drew and used for a very simple animation thingy that we did on the first day here at UCA. The idea to have the ghost stay still and have that hover effect was also suggested to me through advice; and I have to say that it worked out really well. I thought of using a ‘Scooby Doo’ type backdrop picture for the background behind my ghost character, because I thought that it went well with everything. Although I was fairly frustrated with using Photoshop, I still feel like it was really cool. I loved the software, I just wish that I knew how to use it better.

I very much enjoyed seeing my final animated characters and the GIFs that everyone else created; because it was an achievement for someone like me, and I was able to share the experience with other learners. I learned so much, I am so happy to have gained some Photoshop knowledge and skills, as I had never used it before, I hoped to learn how to use it, and I believe that I did. I also improved my drawing skills, by learning how to develop characters specifically for animation, using sequencing and storyboards. In the future, I would love to further develop my animating skills and I can’t wait to have access to Photoshop again. Attending the pixel animation workshops has raised my aspirations to continue with my education.

Summary: so, what did I learn from the pixel animation workshops?

I learned to navigate around Adobe Photoshop.

I learned how to use editing tools in Photoshop.

How to develop animated characters.

How to create, upload or select an image for editing.

I learned about sequencing and storyboards.

How to use ‘Layers’ in Photoshop to create frames.

How to use tabs in Photoshop.

How to use drop-down selection menus in Photoshop.

I learned about concepts and how to create walk-cycles.

How to save and export created pixel animation GIFs.

GIF 2 - My First Silhouette and Standing Man GIF

Previous Animation Experience:

When I was 10-11 years old, I was a member of the ‘Stop Frame LEGO® Animation Club’ 🐱‍🏍 -- this involved Stop Motion manipulation techniques of LEGO® pieces, using a digital camera with Windows based software to create animated films. This was my only previous experience of animation (other than watching it). So, I really wanted to partake in this activity (pixel animation workshops), because I hoped to learn more about new (new to me) animation techniques and how to use Photoshop. I wanted to gain experience of creating 2D GIF animation, improving on my current knowledge-base of stop motion animation.

In addition, I also wanted to learn Photoshop, so that I would be ready for UCA, as I am starting there in September for pre-degree studies. I am also an amateur photographer and learning how to navigate around Photoshop is the ‘Holy Grail’ of image manipulation, as I have only used MS Paint and GIMP at home and school. I feel that learning how to create animation in Photoshop, and having previous knowledge of stop motion animation will put me in good stead for my future studies. I am also interested in the BA (Hons) Illustration & Animation undergraduate degree course for the future.

For more details about the ‘Stop Frame LEGO® Animation Club’ click on the following link: https://kentfilmfoundation.co.uk/

#GIFS #Photoshop #Ghost #DrawingIsHard

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winchester90210 · 5 years

Text

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x03: Every Dream Has It’s Price Tag

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Y/N pays a visit to Brandon at his new job.

Pairing: Patience is a virtue, guys.

Warning: Swearing, feelings, minimal editing

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

A/N: Third episode is up! It’s a little short this time, but I enjoyed getting into romance novel territory with the descriptions this time. Next episode is a doozy, it’s one of my favorites. The First Time– Brandon’s old girlfriend from Minneapolis pays a visit.

The bell rings as Ms. Rye finishes her lecture,

“Okay, papers due on Monday. Remember, I want you to explore how…one decision, one event can change one’s whole life.”

You and Brenda both shuffle to get your things in order before standing up. She turns to Tiff as she and Kelly walk out of the room.

“Hey, Tiff, that was really funny what you said,”

“Who was trying to be funny?” She responds, mocking tone in her voice. You weren’t sure who Tiff was, exactly. Rumors say she was best friends with Kelly until they had a blowout over some guy and it didn’t end well. You didn’t have the best feeling about her, whoever she is.

“Male, female, root for your school, West Beverly’s team on against Beverly High, no fail! And don’t get lured by that sweet sweet nitro sale s-s-sale sale sale!” Once again, the D.J’s voice calls out, which marks the end of another glamorous day at West Beverly.

You spot Brandon, taking down names and numbers off the corkboard, hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

“You job hunting?” You ask, looking up at the different flyers and ads sprawled out amongst the board.

“Yeah, I’m just doing my bit for car insurance, you know,” He studies the board, writing things down as he goes.

“Anything looking good yet?”

“Well, I got uh, “Garden Graphics, Veggie Heaven Produce, This Town Restaurant.” I think we’re talking slam dunk here, Y/N/N,“ He jokes, tapping his pencil on his notepad.

You laugh, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Hey, if your mom is anything like mine, she’d kill for a discount at Veggie Heaven,” you jest,“I gotta run, I promised Brenda I’d go shopping with her and Kelly. Good luck!” You tap your hand on his arm before walking off.

“Thank, Y/N/N.”

“‘Inverted Nipple Trouble?’ Pass. ‘Are you always attracted to losers? Here’s how to break the cycle,’” Tiff laughs at the magazine in her hand while Kelly searches through the tracks.

“Ugh, here is the cycle,” Kelly groans as she walks past Steve, with David Silver at his side.

“Trust me, dude. They’ll drool over this stuff,” Steve convinces, spraying a little black bottle of cologne on the collar of the much younger boy.

“Aw, finally found someone your own maturity level to play with, Steve?” You tease, joining Brenda at the other set of racks. Steve rolls his eyes and turns away from you.

“Oh, hey Tiff. How is that waterbed?” He smirks, turning back to the gold cologne wall.

“Kelly and Tiffany got nuclear over Steve,” Kelly’s friend gossips. Wow. Steve was the guy that tore them apart? Who would fight over him? Doesn’t exactly sound worth it.

“Details, please!” Brenda leans into her, interest piqued.

“But It was intense fallout. They just started speaking this semester in English class.”

You all grab the things you want to try on, and all five of you scurry into the freshly painted dressing rooms. You find a blue floral mini dress with cropped sleeves. It was so cute. And so two hundred dollars. Bummer.

“Do you really think one event can change your whole life?” Brenda asks, muffled by the white doors of the dressing rooms.

“Sure, like in pretty woman? Sorry Julia Roberts, but I’d wear this on the plane with Richard Gere.” Kelly responds. Such a deep thinker, that girl.

“No, I mean like what Ms. Rye was talking about– one thing you do ruining your entire life… I dont know, forget it.” Brenda continues.

“I don’t know, maybe,” You ponder. Your mind runs through the events of that night at the Bel Age. What would have happened if you stayed? Just being there for 30 more minutes probably would’ve caused you to bang Dylan’s brains out. That couldn’t be a good thing. You barely knew him, for one. You had to handle one confusing crush at a time. I mean, not that your thing with Brandon was really a crush, more of an appreciation… for a friend… that happens to be attractive. You didn’t like him like him.

“Maybe it wasn’t ruined,” Tiff calls out, “Maybe he wanted it that way.”

You change back into your normal clothes, fighting with yourself over the dress. Your parents would kill you if you spent all of your money on one dress. It was a totally cute, show-stopping dress, though. Go for it.

You walk over to the check-out counter with Kelly. You may be smart, but at this very moment you’re feeling weak.

The next morning you trot into english class, setting your bag down with a thud.

“Do you remember, Jake kissed like a wall?” Kelly giggles, practically linked at the hip with Tiff.

“OMG yeah, but he was better than the Lizard remember?” She sticks out her tongue, making a gross slurping noise while she walks to her desk.

You sit at yours, next to Brenda.

Tiff turns to both of you, “Hey!”

“Hey,” You give her a half smile, taking your book out from your bag.

“Hey, cool dress!” Brenda smiles, a nervous tick in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a kick for sure!” Tiff spins around, posing before sliding into her seat. You notice Kelly roll her eyes in annoyance before sitting down.

“How nice of you to model for us,” Ms. Rye jokes.

“Ms. Rye?” Brenda asks, sneaking over to the teacher, “Um, I was just wondering, who’s more guilty– someone like in Les Mis who didn’t want to steal but had to, or someone who wanted to but didn’t?”

“That’s an interesting moral twister, um, and we’ll get to that,” She’s cut off by the bell, “now.”

You’re lying on your bed, eyes closed, finally getting some wel deserved peace and quiet. Away from all the gossipy peers, drama, and Tiffany. She exhausted you. You feel yourself drifting off to sleep, but the deafening ring of the phone jolts you up. Who could be calling this late? Why?

You sit up and grab your phone, answering it with a groggy “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I can call someone-” You can’t help but smile sleepily at the sound of his voice.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah…listen, can you pick me up? I took the bus to work today and they don’t run this late at night,”

“So… You need a ride? I can do that. This Town?”

“Yeah,”

“See you in 10,” You hang up, frantically fix your hair, and throw on that $200 dress. You tiptoe down the stairs and out the door, not wanting to wake up your parents. Hopping in your brother’s 1990 Red Mustang Covertible, you slowly back out of the driveway and over to the bistro.

You pull into the parking lot, and see Brandon anxiously pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. You step out of the car, the cool nighttime air almost cold enough to leave you shivering.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Brandon Walsh, Beverly Hills’ own Working Girl,” you tease, a smile on your face. He smiles back, pushing the long blue sleeves of his sweater up his arms. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,”

Your tired eyes meet his own. You get lost in the blue of them, admiring the way the moonlight looks on his face… Until the clearing of a throat shakes you out of your trance. You both silently get in the car, and you pull out of the parking lot.

“How was it?”

“I’m beat, the job’s a total bitch,” He confides.

“Really? It at least pays well, though. Right?”

“You know, that’s what I thought walking in there…but I make next to nothing, and these guys I work with, these– Vietnamese, Portuguese, Israelites, they’re coming here with no money and they’re getting completely exploited. They’re working for pine nuts,” He explains, a frustrated tone in his voice. He’s always looking to make things better for other people, it’s something you picked up on quickly since moving to Beverly Hls. It’s one of the things you quickly grew to love about him… Something that shines brightly in times like these.

“Wow…is there anything you can do?”

He sighs, resting his head against the seat. “I don’t know,”

The streets are totally dead, totally quiet. Peaceful. Only the occasional car comes around every so often. The crickets are loud tonight, though. Filling up the empty space. You see something as you stop at a red light.

“Hey, Bran? What’s that?” You smirk.

You point over to it, a large automobile, stopped at a red light with “Beverly Hills Transit” painted on the side. He looks over, and a smile– a goofy, nervous one, spreads across his face.

He stays quiet for a moment, the smile sticking to his face, shaking his head slightly. “It’s a bus.” You both look at each other and then back at the bus, slowly. You start breaking into a fit of tired giggles. You slowly get Brandon, who’s majorly exhausted from work, going too. So now you’re both sitting at a red light, giggling ike idiots. At a bus. A bus that wasn’t supposed to be there, according to Brandon.

Instead of overthinking the situation, you just drive him home, both of you giddy from exhaustion. You pull into his driveway, putting the car in neutral. This has been a weird night. Fun, but weird.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he says, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. You give him a soft “mhmm,” in return. And, like earlier, you’re staring into his eyes again, and he’s staring into yours. You’re drifting closer and closer…

And then his mom comes out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nod in response, leaning back to your normal sitting position.

“Goodnight, Brandon,” You sigh. Happily, sleepily, defeated.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

Sunday night came, and you were getting ready to go out to This Town with Dylan for dinner, to go pay Brandon a visit. You had told your parents you were going to study at the library with a friend, which…okay, this time it was a total lie, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. So it’s okay. You apply your red lipstick before heading out the door. You see Dylan in his black Porsche Speedster ,parked down the street. Just far enough to avoid creating suspicion from your parents. Perfect.

“So, was this place any good when you went?” You ask, perusing the menu.

“It was alright. Small portions, fancy plates. Good cumin,”

“Brandon’s been running the entire time we’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve even seen him take a breath,” You chuckle, watching him make his rounds. He was nothing if not a hard worker.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Dylan inquires, watching you watch Brandon.

“Come on, we’ve been over this. Brandon’s one of my best friends,” you insist, setting down your menu. You pause. “Okay. maybe I…I do like him. But I wouldn’t ever act on it. He’s kind of attractive, so what? He’s still my friend.” Brandon makes his way closer to your table.

“Yo, boy!” Dylan gets Brandon’s attention, who’s getting swamped with dishes from other employees.

“Hey!” He calls back, turning around. You admire him in his all-white uniform. It shouldn’t look so good on him, yet you’re breathless.

“'This Town,’” Dylan begins, reading the restaurant’s menu, “'This Town is an eating experience for the morning moments, a medley of sages, cumin bouquets, fragrant vegetable jewels,’” he drops the menu onto the table, then proceeds to drop his head, fake snoring. You and Brandon laugh at his antics, but Brandon’s interrupted by his boss not long after.

“Many people would love your job,” She states, black curls hair-sprayed into place as she moves along.

“Yeah, love that minimum wage,” He remarks, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. An asian man steps beside him, helping him with his work.

“You get minimum wage? Congratulations,”

“Yeah, right, same to you,” Brandon responds, raising his eyebrows.

“None of us do,” The man replies. Brandon cocks his head at that, turning to the man.

“That’s illegal!”

“So? Who’s going to do anything?” His coworker walks back into the kitchen. You see the look on Brandon’s face and you can tell…shit’s about to hit the fan. He stomps over to his boss at the counter.

“Listen–”

“I loathe apologies, make it up to me, Brendon, the cumins need filling,” his boss nags, putting on makeup in a compact mirror.

“It’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh! I’m an investigative reporter for the West Beverly newspaper–”

You watch Brandon rant and rave from your table, not able to quite make out what he’s saying because of the loud music. He starts unbuttoning his white coat while he vents.

“Uh oh…uh oh…Dylan, why is he stripping?” You tap him on the arm frantically to get his attention.

“What, I thought you’d like that,” Dylan jokes, playful grin on his lips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, taking the little ball of paper from your straw and throwing it at his face. “I hate you.” You manage to catch the last bit of the conversation.

“…How you scam your help for under minimum wage! So you can take your cumin, and you can shove it,” Brandon slams his white coat down on the counter, walking back to you guys. Wow. You don’t know whether to be amused, proud, or incredibly turned on. All three?

“Take a load off, Minnesota. ‘Dinner Delectable’ is on me,” Dylan encourages, pulling out a seat for Brandon. You can almost see the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Whew, free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty–” he stops the waitress, “Excuse me, can I get a round cup and a round saucer? And I’d like it before the second coming please,” Dylan shakes his head and silently laughs, while your jaw is slightly slack, loving whatever mood Brandon’s in right now. “Come on, let’s get out of here. ”

“Done deal, I know just the place,” all three of you catwalk out.

The Peach Pit

Brandon takes a spoonful of apple pie, “The job wasn’t just to support my car insurance habit,” he tells you. “My dad’s always worked.”

The owner of the diner leans in, both hands on the counter, “He sounds as bonkers as me.” You take a bite of your own pie as he continues, “I was 10 when I worked my first big character part in an old bogie film. There was a real pro with a sweet tooth,”

“Now I know why you dragged me all the way out here,” Brandon turns to Dylan, who’s on the other side of you.

“Best pie in L.A., food for real people,”

“Here’s to real cups and real saucers,” you quip, and all three of you raise your glasses. You look around the diner, pictures upon pictures on the walls, pink wallpaper, and rock and roll music.

“Take it or leave it,” The owner, Nat smiles.

“What I like, is you get a real cross-section of people, you know?” Dylan comments, bringing his tea to his lips.

“This really is a nice place you’ve got here,” You smile fondly.

“Listen, uh, Dylan here has been bugging me about hiring someone to help me out, I figure who would be nuts enough to want this bit? Take you, you look nuts enough,” He faces Brandon, raising his eyebrows.

“Take me!” Brandon exclaims. Oh, those were words you dreamt of hearing come out of this mouth. “I’m nuts enough!” Dammit. He’s so cute.

“I’ll vouch for that,” you giggle.

“Me too, I’ll even waive my commission,” Dylan says.

“So, when do I start?”

“How about right now?” All three of you exchange cheeky smiles.

The night ends after a few slices of pie, some milkshakes, and a curfew that’s about to break.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Y/N/N,” Dylan thanks as you slide into the passengers seat. You smile at him as he pulls out of the diner’s parking lot, and turns down the street, his engine humming and the crickets chirping. You look at him for a moment, lost in your thoughts. You admire him, the night sky, and the fresh, cool, nighttime air. You speak up.

“I don’t want to go home yet,”

Tags: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @lilo-1988 @bevelyhills90210

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axel-fics · 5 years

Note

what about something about lea with an artist s/o? maybe who secretly draws him? i love ur work!!

Aww thanks hun! I love this request!! I like to draw myself, so thought it was very relatable :3

Little Black Sketchbook

Art was something you were always really passionate about. Ever since you were little, you would carry around a sketchbook and pencils wherever you went to draw anything and everything that caught your eye. Sometimes you and Namine would get together and have a drawing party, talking about things going on in your lives and helping each other on your sketches. For the most part, you loved to sketch when you were alone, the silence around you helping you concentrate better on your subjects.

Museums were sanctuaries to you: sketching all the marble statues, ancient artifacts found in tombs of Egyptian kings, old terra-cotta pots from Greece, and the occasional painting. As much as you loved spending hours getting lost in your thoughts studying each piece, there was one subject in particular that was your favorite to draw: Lea.

Lea was never aware of the fact that you drew him pretty often. He’d see you with your nose buried in your sketchbook, but never caught you actually observing him. Your eyes would wander over the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the curves of his muscular arms, the absolute perfect features of his face; you swore he was a Greek God in the flesh. It was hard not to blush while you drew him, and you were surprised (and relieved) he didn’t question you about it.

From time to time he’d ask you what you were drawing, but you’d quickly slam the book closed and hold it close to your chest and practically shout ‘nothing!’. Lea would raise an eyebrow and watch you for a moment before walking out of the room, shaking his head and chuckling. He thought it was adorable how shy you’d get, and sometimes asked you on purpose just to see that same reaction. The thought of him ever finding out made your heart rate escalate in anxiousness, so you made sure to hide your special sketchbook dedicated just for him really well in your room. Or…so you thought.

One afternoon, Lea was rummaging around the bedroom looking for a book he recently started. A few days ago you had cleaned around your shared apartment and accidentally picked it up from its place on the coffee table where Lea had last left it. “Babe, you see my book anywhere” Lea called from the bedroom.

“I think I put it on the desk!” you called from the kitchen.

Lea walked to the small desk, lifting up some papers until he finally found the small book under the neat mess. He grabbed it a little too swiftly and sent the pile of papers flying all over the floor as well as another small black book. The book landed upside down and sprawled open; recognizing it was your sketchbook, Lea quickly picked it up to make sure none of the pages were bent or ripped from his clumsiness. Just as he was about to close it and place it back on the desk, his eyes caught an image that made him freeze. It was a portrait of him, from the looks of it, you had sketched it the other day while the two of you were visiting the park (he recognized the shirt he was wearing that day in the drawing). He had fallen asleep underneath a large cherry blossom tree, the warmth of the spring day and the scent of the flowers still fresh in his mind. Turning the page, another drawing of his face appeared; he had a small smile on his face and was looking at something not indicated in the drawing, but his eyes were drawn with such detail that it was practically mesmerizing. You had even colored in the green in his eyes to show them off even more.

Lea kept flipping pages, each one a different portrait of himself. There were sketches of just his hands, strong and callused but smooth nonetheless, more studies of his eyes, a few of him in his workout clothes that captured his muscularity. As he kept looking through the sketchbook, he walked towards the kitchen and stood in the doorway as you were washing dishes. Finishing up, you threw a towel over your shoulder and stacked the last plate in the cupboard.

“Babe, you drew these?”

Once you saw the book in his hands, your eyes grew wide and you walked hastily in his direction to grab the book from his hands. Lea looked up just in time and quickly turned away, avoiding your outstretched hand and walked to the other side of the living room, still flipping through the pages.

“Lea, it’s not what it looks like! I was just—”

“Not what it looks like? I dunno what you’re talking about, but these are fantastic!” Lea smiled.

“Really? You like them? And it’s not… creepy?” You started twisting the towel in your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“Creepy?? Are you kidding? I’m flattered, honestly. I think you make me look better in your sketches than I do in reality,” he laughed.

“Well, that’s impossible,” you giggled as you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“Is that why you’re always hiding this from me? Did you think I’d not like this?”

“Sorta…”

“[Y/N], you’re an amazing artist. You should never be embarrassed by that or afraid to show me what you’ve done. I’d support you no matter what.”

“Lea, thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” You reached up to give him another kiss, this time on the lips. Lea smiled into the kiss and brought a hand to your cheek, bringing you closer to him. When the two of you parted, he handed back your book.

“How about another one? This time, I can pose if ya want.”

“Right now?”

“Sure, why not. I’ll be the Rose to your Jack. Draw me like one of your French girls!” He raised the back of his hand to his forehead and gave the ceiling a dramatic look.

Rolling your eyes, you slapped the book against his chest while the two of you laughed. “Okay, ‘Rose’. The bedroom has the best lighting this time of day. Let’s go in there.”

“Shirt on or off, Ms. Art-eest?”

“Hmmmm… surprise me.”

#axel #kh axel #kh lea #lea #lea x reader #axel x reader #fluff #kingdom hearts

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tl-ej-wl · 5 years

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6. 2nd June, 1809

~ A Poet’s Melancholy ~ Ramsbury ~ Verbal Sparring ~ "Strawberry body paint” ~ Byron’s Admirers ~ An odd visitor ~ Black is the colour... ~ A budding artist ~ Pretences and Propriety ~ Birthday ~ A Horsewoman ~

Once again, I visited Hatch’s parlour and encountered Lord Byron. this time different company turned up, lifting him from whatever mock-melancholy he claimed to suffer.

Ramsbury - a gentleman whose name rang a bell given his rumoured royal paternity - arrived and turned out to be an old friend of Byron’s. In the presence of a Miss Dawson, Miss Fitzroy and myself, they proceeded to quarrel and make jibes at each other as only friends might. All quite amusing. Each man seemed keen to one-up or undermine the other - even to the extent that - when I added fuel to the fire with the mention of Caroline’s fiery tribute to an effigy of Byron - Ramsbury claimed no one had ever burnt a likeness of him, and Byron suggested he might do so. Miss Dawson seemed as tired of their display as I felt, and I must admit to having felt half-inclined to leave and invite her to join me - were such not likely to be misconstrued and inappropriate with a new acquaintance.

Rescuing ladies is a trickier matter nowadays, apparently.

A Montague Blackwood arrived mid-verbal joust.

(I note here there had also been earlier mention of Byron’s parties, and “Strawberry body paint” - which proved a notable hit with the wasps).

I cannot say I am particularly surprised by the attention Byron received, from either Miss Fitzroy or Mr Blackwood. The former, upon revealing she had a book of the poets works with her, received an autograph in the front - no request needed to be made: Byron practically spotted his name and was there the next moment, pen in hand. As for Blackwood, his leanings were quickly made apparent in speech and manner - and indeed his interests seemed returned.

As the gathering settled down and started to disperse a gentleman wandered into the parlour, apparently quite baffled. He asked the date and babbled about setting the wrong time before departing.

I remained in the parlour and recall talking to Miss Blackmore, and later a Ms. Blackwell. Blackmore, Blackwell, Blackwood: Black seems the colour of Tyrehampton. I am only surprised I have yet to meet a Mr. Black or Blackmire, or a Miss Blackchurch or Blackwell! What’s more, between the death of Lady Blackmore, a residents recent execution and the widows in this village, black is quite apt.

I seem to recall Blackmore talking with Blackwood. She had made some sketches of him from a distance and offered them to him. It turns out Blackmore is already enjoying the freedoms of being out from under her mothers thumb and is pursuing art, going so far as to discuss Blackwood posing for her to draw (in a Grecian style, if memory serves).

Blackwood left. Previously there had been a time when Fitzroy was the only woman (other than the ever half-dozing Hatch, who I expect hears a fair bit more than she lets on) in a room of four or so gentlemen; now I found myself the only man left among a gathering of ladies, though they too left before long.

I mentioned Byron to Blackwell - the first she’d heard of the poet’s presence here. I relayed a little of what I’d heard, with regards to the liklihood he was escaping Caroline and inclined to find company here: she pretended (poorly) not to understand the metaphors I used, commenting a lady should not admit to such knowledge. Saying as much was confirmation enough, though.

Pretences... the people here are variable in their maintenance.

We parted ways. I later visited the parlour again and encountered Mr Lockhart and Miss Blackmore. Her birthday approaches - I learned; she feels hindered to celebrate in light of her recent loss, but intends to in some small ways.

Later, Miss Dawson returned. A quiet girl - I sought to prompt conversation and learnt she enjoys riding, her father is a breeder of draft horses and her mare bore a foal some months back. I mentioned my father’s estate may well benefit from acquaintance with such a business, and that I would pass word on - as I have. Dawson invited me to visit their stables, should I wish to study the horses myself, and while I declined at the time I indicated I might well in future.

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rapeculturerealities · 6 years

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Eric Abramovitz had been training for this moment for nearly his entire life: the opportunity to study under one of the best clarinet teachers on the planet, on a full-ride scholarship to a prestigious music conservatory in Los Angeles.

The college sophomore from Canada was already an elite musician, having won a slew of awards and delivering stunning solo performances in his home country's top symphonies. And completing his bachelor's degree at Colburn Conservatory of Music in Los Angeles on a full scholarship, worth about $50,000 a year, was a dream he had been working toward since he was 7 years old.

After a lengthy and competitive audition process, he was one of two students to receive the honor that would jump-start his career. It should have been a seminal moment in the 20-year-old's life, but he instead ended up devastated when he later got a rejection email.

"I was numb when I read the email. I had to read it a few more times," Abramovitz, now 24, told BuzzFeed News on Thursday. "When I found out I didn't get it, it was really hard to deal with. I went through some really dark, sad, angry days."

Little did he know, his girlfriend at the time was the one who had sent the heartbreaking rejection.

At the time, Abramovitz was dating Jennifer Lee and both were both serious musicians at McGill. They had recently moved in together and things "became serious very fast," he explained.

What happened next, outlined in interviews and court documents filed in Abramovitz's successful lawsuit against Lee, paint the picture of a promising "what if" life trajectory knocked off its rails by what a Canadian judge called "despicable interference" by a selfish girlfriend.

Lee did not respond to BuzzFeed News' request for comment. But according to the lawsuit, when she found the acceptance email from Colburn's clarinet master, Yehuda Gilad, in March 2014, she panicked and, afraid of losing her boyfriend to the opportunity of a lifetime, sprung into action. She hacked into Abramovitz's email account (he left his email and Facebook open all the time because "trust," he said), intercepted Yehuda's offer, and replied.

Posing as Abramovitz, she told the famed musician that he was rejecting the scholarship because he "would be elsewhere." Then she deleted the evidence and created another email, [email protected] and, acting as Gilad, wrote her boyfriend an email that just about broke him: He had ultimately been rejected.

"We were living together at the time so she was the one to console me when I found out," he recalled. "It's really sick now that I look back on it."

In her impersonated rejection email, Lee (aka Gilad) instead offered the college student a spot at University of Southern California with a little help of $5,000 a year for an annual tuition of about $51,000, plus living expenses — an offer she knew he couldn't afford. So a devastated Abramovitz replied to the fake Gilad, turning down the offer and choosing to stay at McGill to finish his degree.

Six months after #emailgate, the couple broke up because, as he put it, "things were getting too intense and some things just weren't working out."

Still bent on studying under the esteemed Gilad, however, Abramovitz decided to audition for a place at USC, where Gilad also taught, after graduating from McGill.

Standing in front of the same man who had "rejected" him years earlier was daunting, the 24-year-old said, and he could feel some tension in the air once he completed his set.

"We went into a room to chat after I finished and he asked me what I was doing here," Abramovitz said. "He was like, 'You rejected me. Why are you here?'"

The young musician froze, utterly perplexed.

"I was like, 'Uh, no, you rejected me,' and he was like, 'No, you did,' and we had this awkward exchange where we kept going back and forth like that and I thought maybe he had confused me with someone else," Abramovitz laughed.

While he wasn't offered another full scholarship, Abramovitz said he was awarded a position at USC's certificate program and began studying under Gilad, though he couldn't shake the sneaking feeling something was off.

Then, a few months later, one of Gilad's former students approached Abramovitz after a performance to say hello and ask him a question: "Why didn't you study at Colburn when you had the chance?"

Taken aback, Abramovitz's mind began to spin, concluding that "there must be something I don't know if everyone thinks I got in."

So he began to dig. He went back to the "rejection" email and sent it to Gilad, who confirmed that it was certainly not his email address and he had never sent it.

Finding out that he had actually been accepted was one of the most "shattering" moments of his life, Abramovitz said. But he still didn't suspect that his ex would be the person behind it, surmising that it was another clarinetist "who wanted my demise."

Enlisting the help of some "computer people," Abramovitz tried to trace the account, "but to no avail." It wasn't until his friends started prodding, suggesting, "What about Jen?" that he began to wonder. The two had lived together; she had access to his computer and email and knew his passwords.

"It would have been so easy for her," he said.

Although "it hurt to even confront the possibility" that his ex-girlfriend would have derailed his career in such a way, he and his friends began to test passwords he knew she used and, after several attempts, he was in Gilad's fake email account.

"It was very Sherlock Holmes-y and we were so excited about our detective work, but it was a simultaneous stab to the heart and back," he said.

Once he pieced together all that had transpired a few years earlier, he immediately informed his professor, contacted Lee, and hired an attorney.

"At first she tried to deny it, but the evidence I had was overwhelming," Abramovitz said. "Then she blocked me on social media and we only spoke to each other through lawyers."

On Wednesday, an Ontario Superior Court judge sided with Abramovitz, who had sued his ex-girlfriend for $300,000 in general damages, including for loss of reputation, loss of educational opportunity, and loss of two years of potential income.

As a bonus, the judge tacked on an extra $50,000 “against Ms. Lee for her despicable interference in Mr. Abramovitz’s career.”

Lee did not respond multiple times to the court action, effectively squelching any legal defense she may attempt to mount going forward.

"A defendant who has been noted in default is deemed to admit the truth of all allegations of fact made in the statement of claim," the judge wrote.

Speaking from his apartment in Tennessee, where he has been performing as part of the Nashville Symphony Orchestra, the musician said he is still shocked and hurt by the dramatic ordeal, but he never let it knock him off course.

"It's very hard to know what my path would have been had this not happened," he said. "But I am happy and proud of myself because I landed on my feet. I have no regrets. I have always aspired to make a living doing what I love, and I have, so I am very fortunate."

In fact, he is moving back to Canada, having just accepted a position with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra as its associate principal clarinet and E flat clarinet. He is also in another relationship, which he describes as "awesome."

"We're really happy," he said. "I would like to think that since my first relationship my judgment of character has improved just a little bit."

In an interview on AM to DM, Abramovitz said what his ex-girlfriend did was the "ultimate betrayal." "But then, to still have the opportunity to go work with [Gilad] was obviously my goal from the beginning," he said. "It had to be two years later at a different school that obviously cost a lot more than Colburn would've cost, but luckily it wasn't all bad in the end. I still got to do what I set out to do."

#abuse #Abramovitz #scholarship

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orbemnews · 3 years

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Emily Ratajkowski Is Selling an NFT at Christie’s In an effort to re-establish “authority” over the usage of her likeness, Emily Ratajkowski, the model and writer, is minting a nonfungible token, or NFT, which will be auctioned at Christie’s on May 14. The piece will be titled “Buying Myself Back: A Model for Redistribution.” As Ms. Ratajkowski chronicled in a widely read essay published in The Cut last fall, she’d been surprised to find out, in 2014, that a nude photograph of herself was hanging in the Gagosian Gallery on Madison Avenue. As part of his “New Portraits” series, the artist Richard Prince had taken one of her Instagram photos and printed it on a large canvas, priced at $90,000. Ms. Ratajkowski tried to buy the piece but a Gagosian employee bought it for himself. After contacting Mr. Prince’s studio directly, though, she was able to obtain a second “Instagram painting” of herself, featuring a photo from her first appearance in Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue. She had been paid $150 for the shoot, she wrote, and a “couple grand”when the issue was published. She and her boyfriend at the time bought the piece for $81,000; when they broke up, she paid her ex $10,000 for a smaller “study” that Mr. Prince’s studio had given her. The image attached to the NFT is a digital composite showing Ms. Ratajkowski, photographed in her New York apartment, posing in front of the Richard Prince painting that hangs in her Los Angeles home. (To remind: a nonfungible token is the metadata associated with the image file, allowing the file to be bought or sold like a physical piece of art.) Instead of cash-based currency, NFTs are purchased using cryptocurrency like Bitcoin or Ethereum, and the transactions are permanently recorded on the respective currency’s blockchain, which functions like a ledger. Ms. Ratajkowski is using the platform OpenSea to add her NFT to the Ethereum blockchain, but her NFT will be for sale in U.S. dollars, and the fund transfer will happen “off-chain,” a Christie’s spokeswoman said. There is no reserve, or starting, price on the piece. In March, after the artist Beeple’s $69.3 million NFT sale at Christie’s, talent agents started encouraging their celebrity clients to participate in the NFT “money grab,” Ms. Ratajkowski said in an interview. Brands and cryptocurrency brokers contacted her directly, she said, offering her 20 percent to 60 percent of profits for an NFT featuring her likeness. “I had this bad feeling in my stomach about that way of approaching it,” she said, so she decided to develop her own project — following another prominent model, Kate Moss. As Ms. Ratajkowski browsed NFT marketplaces like OpenSea, Foundation and SuperRare, she came across bouncing smiley-face GIFs and 3-D renderings, thinking to herself: “Why are they NFTs? They don’t need to be NFTs.” Because an NFT is less about the image itself and more the concept of ownership over a digital file, Ms. Ratajkowski realized the medium could be an effective way to make a statement about ownership — by appropriating Mr. Prince’s appropriation of her photo. “As somebody who has built a career off of sharing my image, so many times — even though that’s my livelihood — it’s taken from me and then somebody else profits off of it,” she said. Every time her NFT is resold, she will receive an undisclosed cut. “To me, this digital marketplace is a way to communicate this specific idea that couldn’t exist in a different way.” Mr. Prince, who did not respond to messages sent through Gagosian and his studio manager, has been using other artists’ work in his own work since the 1980s, and he made a name for himself by taking photos of existing photographs. His work has long been controversial, and Ms. Ratajkowski is not the first subject to take issue with the “New Portraits” series of Instagram appropriations. In 2015, Selena Mooney, the founder of the erotic website SuicideGirls, sold $90 copies of a piece by Mr. Prince that features one of her Instagram posts, with proceeds going to the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a digital rights group. “If I had a nickel for every time someone used our images without our permission in a commercial endeavor I’d be able to spend $90,000 on art,” Ms. Mooney wrote on Instagram. Another subject, the sex educator Zoë Ligon, told Artnet she felt “violated” by Mr. Prince’s use of her selfie in 2019. Mr. Prince has also been sued at least five times over copyright infringement relating to the “New Portraits” series, The New York Times has reported, including two high-profile lawsuits filed by two photographers, Donald Graham and Eric McNatt. Mr. McNatt claimed that Mr. Prince misused a photo of Kim Gordon he shot for Paper magazine. According to court documents, he was paid between $50 and $100 for the shoot. The art critic Jerry Saltz, who called “New Portraits” “genius trolling” in a 2014 review, worked with Kenny Schachter, an artist and art-world gadfly, to produce an NFT of the disputed Kim Gordon image in early April. Ms. Gordon chimed in and wrote that she wondered if Mr. McNatt “will sue you too?” on Mr. Schachter’s Instagram post. Casey Reas, an artist and professor at the University of California, Los Angeles who has dealt in NFTs for five years, noted they could be of particular appeal to content creators, whose images are so often replicated far beyond their control. “With things in the physical, material world, ownership is pretty clear, but with digital files, it’s always been sort of a fuzzy area,” he said. “NFTs allow one person to have clear, public ownership over a digital thing, like an image or a video.” However, those pieces of media can still go viral. “The work itself is not scarce,” Mr. Reas said. “That image can still circulate around the internet, but ownership is the thing that the NFT allows somebody to claim.” Like a physical painting, the original artist still retains copyright; unlike a physical painting, every time an NFT changes hands, the original artist gets royalties. To Ms. Ratajkowski there’s another potential dividend: moral justice. She said that after her article was published, models started reaching out to discuss “not just their image being used, but their bodies being misused, and used for profit in ways they didn’t consent to,” she said, a topic she explores in an upcoming essay collection, “My Body,” which Metropolitan Books is planning to publish in October. Across fashion, film and the art world, she added, young women are made to “feel like they don’t need to be paid properly.” And she said cryptocurrency experts warned her: “People are going to use your image in NFTs in one way or another, so you might as well make one.” Source link Orbem News #Christies #Emily #NFT #Ratajkowski #Selling

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