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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

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phantobats · 3 months ago

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My favorite headcanon is that Bruce manages to match all of his kids in their hobbies and encourages their pursuit of them.

Dick teaches him any acrobatic moves he hadn't known before and Bruce eventually becomes his spotter, allowing him to try tricks and routines that allow his body to go all out, knowing that someone is there to catch him if he falls.

Jason picks up his love for reading by spending time in the library inside the manor with Bruce. He introduces him to some of his favorite books and their nights are spent with Bruce reading out a few pages before Jason falls asleep. The mornings are then used to discuss the book and its topics, refining Jason's literacy and ability to analyze information and knowledge.

Tim is encouraged by Bruce to keep up his photography ventures, just by his side. He shows him prime and secret spots during their quieter moments on patrol, contently listening to Tim explain his process. He even gifts Tim his father's old camera, fixing it up so that Tim can use it for more experimental shots.

Bruce picked up the skill of drawing from his mother and Damian seems to share the same talent. Together they practice different art styles until Damian finds the one that feels the most natural, adding museum visits to their studies as they allow Damian to get better educated about different art epochs.

As a Wayne it is important to have knowledge of ballroom dancing, so when Cassandra shows an interest in dancing, her and Bruce try out different ballroom dances. Bruce also makes sure to attend each of her performances, showering her with praise afterwards.

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lateatnewyork · 4 months ago

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CAN'T A GIRL APPRECIATE HER BOYFRIEND? 001

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader (briefly mentioned)

summary: yn is not afraid of being horny on main for her boyfriend.

extra information: - (this is js a funny one)

mclaren

liked by ynhamilton, scuderiaferrari and 380,487 others oscar piastri and lando norris in the ice bath ! view comments

ynhamilton THAT JAWLINE OH MA GAWD ➥ ynhamilton cut me with your jawline pls ➥ zakbrown yn pls refrain from injuring our driver or yourself user08 i made it before yn ?! ➥ ynhamilton no you didnt try harder averagef1lover waiting to see yn's unhinged comments landonorris i look so good 🤭 ➥ ynhamilton oscar looks better🤤 ➥ landonorris 🫠 danielriccardo how did u get oscar in there ➥ mclaren rubber ducks 😓 ynhamilton i literally love you oscar jack piastri ➥ oscarpiastri i love you too yn hamilton

ynhamilton

liked by susiewolff, alexanderasaintmleux and 508,983 others hey baby run him off the track pls?? ill give u head view comments

user09 YN THIS IS CRAZY??!! totowolff zakbrown please tell your driver not to listen to his crazy girlfriend ➥ zakbrown no ➥ ynhamilton susiewolff HE CALLED ME CRAZY ➥ susiewolff toto you're sleeping on the couch ➥ totowolff WHAT ➥ georgerussell LMAO alexalbon yn this is another stage of wildness logansargeant THIS IS SO OUT OF POCKET fernandoalonso what is 'head'? ➥ ynhamilton FERNANDO LOOK AWAY maxverstappen finally we agree on something oscarpiastri babe i cant do that (promise?) ➥ ynhamilton promise 🫶 averagef1lover poor lewis doesnt even know he bouta get run off the track ➥ oscarpiastri i wont actually do it ➥ ynhamilton 🤨

ynhamilton

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe and 537,482 others oh he definitely got head for that 🤭 view comments

lewishamilton YN WTF ➥ ynhamilton WHYD U UNBLOCK ME ➥ lewishamilton COS I FELT BAD ➥ ynhamilton mum told you to didnt she ➥ lewishamilton yeah .. oscarpiastri ur so pretty ➥ ynhamilton I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OSCAR PIASTRI liked by oscarpiastri and 5089 others landonorris ok but the middle photo lowk ate ➥ ynhamilton thank u for appreciating my photography skills ➥ landonorris your welcome alexalbon oh! ➥ ynhamilton your gf wants me ➥ alexalbon WHAT ➥ lilymhe its true 😞 alexanderasaintmleux marry me?? ➥ ynhamilton gladly bbg ➥ alexanderasaintmleux 🤭 ➥ charlesleclerc 🤨 ➥ oscarpiastri 😭

a/n this one was a bit silly | guys i forgot to put the verified mark after the first thread pls ignore that

#acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar #oscar piastri x reader #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fic #op81 fluff #oscar piastri leclerc #lewis hamilton #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri social media au

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mistywaves98 · 18 days ago

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Stalker! Scara and his unsuspecting classmate/friend, you

Just something I had in my head for a while that I just poured out into a post. These lil headcanons don't really flow properly either 😭

¡Warnings!: Suggestive (?), Reader is painfully oblivious, Can be read as yandere scara, Stalking, Taking nonconsensual photos, General creepy behavior!

Stalker! Scara who's had his eyes on you for a long time, longer than you could've imagined all while you're completely oblivious to it. Or maybe he's just that stealthy?

Stalker! Scara whose room is so untidy. Dirty laundry, empty noodle cups and snack wrappers line the floor of his messy man cave. But he still keeps his mini shrine dedicated to you completely clean and flawless.

Stalker! Scara who has an entire wall dedicated to you. The left side is the gallery of pictures he's meticulously cumulated over multiple months while the other is shelves of stuff you've either touched or he sneakily 'borrowed'.

Stalker! Scara who has a collection of the most random things because it has some sort of connection to you. Be it a pen you used to chew the end of or a piece gum you've chewed, or even a tissue you blew your nose in.

Stalker! Scara who works his ass of at a measly part time job in a convenience store near campus just to have money he can spend on you. Coincidentally, it happens to be the same one you frequent a lot.

Stalker! Scara who has most definitely stolen some bills from the register, particularly the ones you had given him to pay for your items one day. Just another addition to his ever-growing collection.

Stalker! Scara who somehow happens to wherever you are on campus, seemingly doing his own thing on his phone. But in reality he's just trying to get perfect angle of your ass as you bend over to pick up something you dropped.

Stalker! Scara who initially joined the photography club out of school obligations but now uses it as an opportunity to enhance his photo-taking skills to get better pictures of you instead of the blurry, barely visible ones he had clumsily taken in the beginning of his little obsession.

Stalker! Scara who's got his hands on every piece of personal information about you that he can find. Be it your birthday, your relationship with your family, your favourite song, a place that you frequent, or maybe even a particular brand of clothes that you buy.

Stalker! Scara who always makes sure to send some sort of gift for you on any remotely special occasion. Sometimes it's a bouquet of your favourite flowers, an item you had been eyeing in the shops for a while or perhaps something more daring like a pair of lacey panties he would die to see you in. Those risky gifts are always sent anonymously, leaving you quite puzzled.

Stalker! Scara who always keeps track of your schedule, having all your planned events on his calendar so he can keep an eye on your every move.

Stalker! Scara who somehow finds himself on every bus that you're taking whenever you're going into town, gaze fixated on you from afar. He can't help but wipe the drool off his chin as his eyes notice the way your breasts and thighs jiggle with every bump in the road.

Should I make pt 2?

#x reader smut #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader smut #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scara x reader smut #scara smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche smut #yandere scaramouche x reader smut #yandere scaramouche x reader

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rosemaeridream · 4 months ago

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hate is no better than love. | (M)

Mature content (18+)

fashion-designer!aeri x photographer!fem reader

warnings: inevitable hate fuck?, strap, bottom!aeri, top!reader, a little bit of roughhousing from both sides, intense back scratching, nude/pornographic photography, do they actaully hate each other or is the sexual tension too much???

A/N: whoever asked for this BEFORE armageddon i'm so sorry lmfao + this hasn't been beta'd mistakes will be present

word count: 4.6k

Uchinaga Aeri is not a woman you love.

She’s rich. She’s popular. She’s arrogant. She’s manipulative. She has a fucking smirk soldered onto her lips at all points of time. It’s infuriating.

Wholly.

Completely.

Utterly.

It makes perfect sense why Aeri isn’t your kind of person. She’s everything you’re not–both the bad and the good.

And yet, God be damned, she’s always nearby.

It’s not like you’re trying to seek her out. She’s studying fashion (or something you couldn’t be bothered to figure out) while you’re doing some arts degree. It didn’t matter, just as long as you weren’t in the same course.

And yet, God be fucking damned, she’s always nearby.

You’re on your way to the station, and she’s giggling with her friends behind you, somehow loud enough to pierce through the noise-cancellation of your headphones.

You’re studying outside one of your lecture halls, waiting for your next class, and she’s checking her appearance in the window’s reflection thirty steps away.

You’re on a fucking walk at the beach, kilometres away from the university, and damned Uchinaga Aeri is there, laying back in a chair, sunglasses shielding her eyes and only clad in a bikini.

You could easily not love Aeri. Not loving just meant not caring. But when you see the woman four out of seven days a week when you have no reason or wish to; resentment stews in your gut.

Especially now, as she’s sitting down in front of you – with that stupid fucking perpetual smirk and an undescribably huge iced coffee – and closing the lid of your laptop mid-keystroke.

“What?” You break the silence between you, not at all happy that she’s here and seizing your precious study time. And you know she can tell; she’s even enjoying your irritation – it’s evident in how she rests her jawbone on her fist while lazily swirling the straw in her coffee.

“I heard from a certain somebody that you take photos.” She preens under your gaze and leans in a fraction like she’s telling you a secret. It comes off haughty; she thinks she’s better than you, and you have no idea why she’s doing it.

That’s debatable. But what isn’t debatable is that you do take photos.

“Yeah, what of it?” The jiggling of the ice in her coffee is getting too much, and you’re this close to throwing it against her head and walking out of the cafe. At least you’d get a moment of silence while she sits in shock.

“I have some outfits to model. I want a photographer.”

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow, already put out by the idea of having to take photos of her. Not that it’d be hard. She’s gorgeous, from head to toe, quite literally the definition of photogenic. Maybe that’s the problem — it’s too easy, there isn’t a challenge for you.

“Duh. You have like… good skills or whatever, Park.” Her tone turns bored and she lets go of her straw to check on her metallic-chartreuse acrylics. They’re so long those things would fucking suck to type with. Or fuck with. Or do anything but gouge out the eyes of your enemies with.

“You’ve seen my work? I’m surprised, Uchinaga; I thought you’d only ever care about leather straps and sequins.”

“Mmh. Funny… But no, I appreciate a piece of artwork when I see one.” She examines you from your hair to where your torso ends at the height of the table. Then she lifts her coffee an inch, just enough to wrap her tongue around the straw and sip. It makes an annoyingly loud slurping noise, which is a feat considering the cup is 80% full.

To say it pisses you off is an understatement.

“I only work for a commission. $100 an hour.”

Aeri’s eyes almost bug out, the slurp stutters and you relish in the noise, pleased that you could break her intrusive behaviour.

“A hundred. An hour? You’re literally a student.”

“I’m literally a photographer.” The itch to grab your phone and pull up your IG account to name and gloat about how much each photo is worth is immensely strong. But you’re better than Uchinaga. That’s something that she’d do.

You can’t let her win…

And you’re better than her.

“Fuck you, I could take the pictures for free.” Her nails dig into the table and you wouldn’t be surprised if there were chips in the paint when she removes them. Fuck, those things are talons. “And that’d be like wearing a Shein shirt on a runway.” You copy her signature smirk. “Get your head out of your ass, Uchinaga. You want professional quality photos; you pay the professional price.”

“$50 an hour.” And she’s fucking turned to haggling. It’s not surprising – she’s wealthy scum. If this were France in the 1800s, you’d be breaking out the guillotine right about now.

“No thanks.” You grab your phone, shoving your laptop into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Eat shit and die, Coco Chanel.”

You make it 20 steps down the street before you can hear her heels clicking on the footpath behind you. You huff, knowing she isn’t going to call out for you. No, that’s too gaudy for her. Instead, she’ll just menacingly click behind you until she inevitably catches up at a stop light – her irritatingly long legs make her stride feel like she’s an olympian and her persistence can be equated to a bloodhound.

You whirl around, knowing that her perpetual smirk will be present, even when she’s about to grovel for you to take her back. Or something.

“I’ll pay your stupid commission.” Her tone drawls like she’s bored, but the twitch of her brow is a sure sign of her own irritation. “Tuesday, I’ll DM you the address.”

Then she turns and strides off without a confirmation.

At the last possible moment, she swishes her hair over her shoulder, sending you a smirk so smug that only one thing is clear.

She wins.

The address she messages you ends up being an old warehouse in a former train shed. The rails are still embedded in the concrete; its steel a dirty grey from wear. There’s a lot of light in here despite the tall corrugated iron walls and high ceiling due to the skylights and high windows. Aeri sits at a makeshift desk on one side of the shed, scribbling away in some kind of notebook as she waits for you. She’s clad in a pink robe and heels – add a sleeping mask and she’d be some kind of Blair Waldorf reincarnate.

“Uchinaga.” You grumble, finding yourself in the position she was in last week, sitting down across from her and interrupting her work. Instead of a tall iced coffee and a smirk, there’s your short coffee cup and an expectant expression.

She looks up to you, slight bags under her eyes and a bleary redness to them. Most notably, Aeri’s missing her usual arrogant demeanour.

“Mmhf.” She immediately goes back to her sketch. “What the shit are you here for, Park?”

It takes you everything you have not to stab her in the eye with her pencil.

“Photos. You commissioned me.”

“It’s not Tuesday. Get the fuck out of my face.” She waves a hand fleetingly like you could float away and leave her in peace if she cared more.

“It’s Tuesday.” You even check your phone, sliding it close enough to her on the table so she can see that you’re not an idiot.

15:05. Tuesday, 25th June.

And she reads it.

And she stills.

And it’s quiet.

Then she narrows her eyes.

“Get your shit out then, I’m not paying you more than an hour.” She slides from her stool, stalking over to a rack of clothing. Before you can even move, she lets it drop, pooling around her feet while she flicks through the pieces.

Your mouth dries up and you can’t even move, just staring at the soft sway of her hair and ass as she searches through her clothes. Her irritatingly long legs look so much longer when the only thing stopping them are lacy black panties that are most definitely out of your budget.

The only reason you pick up your jaw and start to unpack your ‘shit’ is that Aeri swivels ever so slightly so that you can see the slight turn of her lip. She’s smirking. She’s fucking smirking.

You look around the place, grateful that the natural lighting is dramatic enough in places to get some interesting images. If Aeri wants that, of course… she hasn’t exactly made it clear what she wants. You’re extra grateful that you wouldn’t have to hike back up the street to get your lighting equipment.

As you continue to unpack, Aeri changes. The first she shimmies into is a wide legged pair of jeans with frayed and ripped holes up the thigh. It doesn’t help. Then a tube top with a baggy tank over the top. It really doesn’t help. Especially when she passes fingers through her hair and pulls it up into a messy half-up half-down style.

You blink and she’s apparated in front of you with a hand on her hip, her acrylics curling into the denim.

“Hurry up.”

You pop an SD card into the slot then wave her away to where she wants to begin. Aeri struts over to the side of the train shed and leans against the corrugated iron.

And it starts.

Photographing Aeri is effortless. She’s far too practised in her motions and poses. Even when she gets bored and leaves without a word to change her outfit, it’s efficient. Genuinely, you might be able to get this done in under an hour which is both a relief to your sanity and her bulging wallet (even if it wouldn’t miss the $100 note).

However, as easy as this photoshoot is going, the silence is starting to get to you.

“Too poor to get your own models?” Apparently pissing her off is the appropriate way to fill in the quiet space. Aeri scowls and you make sure to capture a photo of it.

So? She looks good when she’s mad.

“I prefer to do it myself. I know what angles the clothes look best at.” She points, guiding you into her next pose. “And no one knows my creative vision.”

“Yet, you trust me to photograph your creative vision.” The viewfinder fogs after your last breath. You hadn’t even realised you were using it instead of the screen. It was just a natural feeling, framing her using a more analogue method felt… right. Lowering the camera from your eye to wipe the fog, you take a second to breathe.

“...Your style. It isn’t so bad.” Aeri finally answers. Then she scowls again. “You’re slacking.”

“And you have fifteen minutes left.”

She scoffs and stalks away to swap her attire.

Wiping the viewfinder again, you put it back to your eye, checking for fog. It’s gone, but all that’s left is a half naked Aeri, perfectly framed and positioned. The line of her back draws your eye to her ass which is slightly pushed out as she bends to step into a new dress. Instinctively, you take the shot.

And then another for good measure.

“You know I can hear the shutter, perv.” Aeri turns in the viewfinder as you snap another picture. She’s in a swampy green to black gradient which compliments her nails. You figure this is what she had them done for.

“So? Maybe you’ll enjoy these more.” She prowls closer and closer until she’s out of focus and pushing your camera down.

“What, after you rub one out to them?” She sneers, her talons piercing into the skin of your hand where it circles the camera lens.

“Like I’d ever jack off to you.”

Aeri twists the camera out of your hand, opening up the previews to look back at your photos. She keys through the half naked ones, expressionless, and starts to look through the others.

It’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Usually, Aeri wears her disgust on her face, never hiding when she thinks something is complete garbage. And everything is garbage to Aeri.

She grimaces once or twice but it’s never the heavy pull of the lip or the slight scrunch of her nose that you’ve learnt to associate with her disgust.

“Even I would get off on these.” She flips the camera back to you, showing off a preview of her, mouth half open, eyes lidded and hair messy from just swapping outfits.

She does, you have to admit, look like sex on a stick. Or whatever that term is.

Aeri turns, still with your camera and clicks over to a set of chic looking beanbags – however chic a beanbag could look. She lounges down, crossing a leg over the other and lazily stares up at you.

“Hurry up. You’re wasting my time.” She dangles the camera from its strap. You move forward immediately, reaching to snatch up your camera, your precious baby, back into your hands.

And Aeri, being the person she is, moves it out of your grasp and above her head. Sick amusement dances across her features when she locks eyes with you.

“I told you to fetch.”

Neither of you are budging and Aeri’s a fucking immature child. A fucking spoilt immature child. You know that by the time you skirt the beanbag’s circumference, she would move the camera back to where it was before. Her limbs are too long for you to compete with, and her smirk, her damn perpetual fucking dumb fucking smirk, is back on her lips.

Both of you know that there’s only one way for you to get your camera back.

With a clenched jaw, you settle a knee on Aeri’s left side, then her right as you hover over her body to rip the camera out of her hand.

Aeri lets go too early. The camera slides through your grasp and as you focus all your attention on grabbing the strap, Aeri flips you over to pin you against the beanbag. It’s this weird twist and grab, but your baby is safe in your hand.

“What the fuck, Uchinaga?? Do you know how goddamn expensive this camera is? It isn’t something you can just pick up at-“ The complaint is halfway out of your mouth before it’s smothered by her lips, thick and cushioned.

The kiss is unexpected, a slight moan slipping out when she moves to reposition herself. One hand at your hip, the other sliding into your hair. Her thumb brushes against the hem of your top, lifting and taking fabric along with it until there’s a dense heat branding your skin.

It’s almost nice for a moment. You almost lose yourself in the sensation. Almost.

Aeri yanks your hair downwards, taking advantage of your gasp and forcing her tongue inside. The wet muscle glides across your own, taking its time to thoroughly explore. After an extended moment, she extracts with an audible pop!, daring to stare at you like she’s just blown your mind.

“What…” You struggle to breathe as your brows pull into a frown. “The fuck?”

“You didn’t like that?.” Her tone is blasé like she’s studying her cuticles or waiting for her damn iced coffee.

It’s not a matter of whether you enjoyed it. That, you’d never give the answer to.

“You can’t just kiss someone when they’re saying things you don’t like! How fucking immature can you be?”

There’s half a beat of silence, then Aeri measuredly leans forward until she’s a centimetre away. It’s with a controlled precision that you hadn’t really expected. Yes, she’s a fashion major or whatever and that causes a level of elegance, but Aeri’s always been raw and nasty in your eyes.

I mean, she just kissed you, for fucks sake!

Aeri doesn’t say anything but her mouth morphs back into that stupid fucking smirk that looks too good on her lips — you understand why she does it so much but fuck is it annoying — and your stomach twists until you find yourself closing that centimetre and rolling around to push her back against the bean bag.

You can’t think while you’re kissing her. You can’t even ask why you’re doing this because Aeri’s hiking up your shirt and throwing it on the floor somewhere. You shiver slightly at the change in temperature and her acrylics resting on your back.

She giggles at how crazed your kisses are. In the back of your mind there’s a drifting thought about how you’re proving some point of hers right. You just can’t pin it down. It was the one about… about…? Oh, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.

It especially doesn’t matter when she shoves you off her lap. Hard. It sends you tumbling back, your butt hitting the hard concrete. The impact clears your mind immediately and you send Aeri a ‘what-was-that-for?’ glare.

Aeri leans the side of her head against her palm as she lazily smirks at you. She sits like a maniacal god controlling her creation and it pisses you off. Everything she does fucking. Pisses. You. Off.

“And that one was for…?”

“You were slobbering.” Then she waves to her desk in a careless flourish. “Bottom drawer. Hurry up.”

For a second, you debate walking out of the shed. Denying Aeri’s requests would put you down on her level of bratty pettiness; it’s only natural for you to dish it back to her. Not to mention, this is pretty fucked: You hate the woman. You think she’s rich and nasty and spoiled and far too hot to behave like she isn’t one of the nine muses.

God fucking damn it.

After a moment of rubbing your butt, you push to your feet and wander to the desk. Your camera is left on top of the desk while you squat to open the drawer and yank it open.

“…”

“You are not fucking me with a strap.”

When you turn around, you’re surprisingly not facing her smirk. It’s like a lion without a mane. Instead, Aeri is sitting there looking at you like prey.

“Whoever said I was gonna be fucking you?” She curls a finger for you to come back. It’s clear that she means now. Not in a minute, not in a second. Now.

Mindlessly you grab the harness and your camera, already with the silicon attached and you meander back to her. It’s your way of fighting back, making Aeri feel some of the irritation that follows her. When you arrive, you drop the harness in her lap with a sour expression and place the camera safely on the ground next to the beanbag.

There’s a lot you could ask. Why are we about to fuck? Did you organise all this for me to fuck you? Is this weird or kinky? Why do you have a strap in the bottom drawer of your desk? Is it sanitary?

“Why am I doing this?” You ask instead.

Aeri hangs the harness over a finger and gives you an eye to step into it.

“Because you think I’m hot and this is your chance to get laid.”

Despite the fact that you hate admitting you’ve had a lack of partners to sleep with recently, you still step into the buckles. She sinches it over your clothed thighs, amazingly efficient despite her nails. The straps are tight but you don’t really mind.

“Come on, baby.” She coaxes you back to your position on top of her and the beanbag. When you look at her rather blankly, she rolls her eyes.

“God, you’re more idiotic than I thought. Fucking a plushie would be better than this.”

The words are a slap to your face. Although you’re still confused as to why you’re sitting on her lap, with a strap, you find yourself getting angry again. She had that strap in her drawer – just waiting. Is this a normal thing she does? That she paid you to come and fuck her?

Aeri looks fucking pretentious like this – hair mussed, stupid smirk, stupid lips – all dolled up in a horribly vapid and careless way. Her stare sends waves of anger down to your core. It roves over your body, no doubt sizing you up, prepared to dig her nails into your arteries at the first sign of weakness.

Or maybe the first sign of arousal.

Aeri’s right. This is your chance to get laid, and this is your chance to fuck her. In the fuck you sense, not in the… well, okay in the fuck her sense too.

You hike up her dress, struggling not to make it crinkle and crease at her waist with the thought of keeping it integral for the photoshoot, you expose her upper thighs and… and…

“Those photos really made you this wet?”

It’s obscene. Purely obscene how wet her panties are. When you look up to inspect her expression, Aeri has enough shame to have a dusting of red over her cheeks.

“You narcissist.” You sneer, pushing the strap against her clothed pussy and gliding the head over her clit. It smears your arousal on the underside of the cock, creating a sheen of wet. Apparently, it feels nice enough, good enough, that Aeri clutches onto your shoulders, sinking her nails into your skin. It draws a grunt from your chest and only helps to build your irritation.

“Stop being such a whiny bitch and fuck me.” Aeri tugs your shoulders, ensuring that her lips brush the cup of your ear while she whispers.

Funny, how she could pretend to be in control when she was holding back her moans and twitching whenever your head bumps against the swollen nub of pleasure. For good measure, you smack it against the soaked cloth twice before deciding that you could torture her better without the layer of protection.

Aeri, on the other hand, leans back. There’s a sort of dazed smile on her lips like she’s a child being rewarded for good grades or some other menial shit. Wanting to wipe the smile off her face, you buck the strap in.

All the way in, her wet cunt filled to the brim.

She shrieks, her nails scratching harshly down your back, almost getting a line of curses from you.

“And I’m the whiny bitch? You’re the one who wanted this.” You drag your hips back, her pussy squeezing so tight that it actually takes effort.

Moans blossom out of Aeri as you start a sturdy pace, her breasts bouncing with every snap of your hips. The squelch is loud in the warehouse, almost echoing off the walls. Deciding that she deserves a treat, you lean down to suckle under the curve of her boob.

“I bet that was all an act when I arrived.” You purr against her skin. It turns pink under your touch, hot with want. “You were in that robe on purpose, just waiting for a chance to take it off.”

Aeri shakes her head, nails biting into your back. It’s hot white pain, you realise. She’s breaking through layers of skin.

Fuck, that’s filthy. Your eyes find her cunt. The ring clenching rhythmically against the strap. It’s so clear that you could almost feel it yourself. Aeri’s cunt on your cock.

“Are you gonna say something?” She’s too quiet. You’d do anything to hear her say some prissy shit into your ear. To be bratty and deny you. “Or has this dick got you acting on your best behaviour?”

Your hands are a mess, switching between pinching and kneading her breasts, holding yourself up (or holding Aeri down), and keeping her legs spread wide open.

Still no answer. Maybe you’ve actually won.

A laugh bubbles up and you double your efforts, making Aeri screech and claw further down your back. She’s already started to roll her hips to meet yours. It’s messy, filthy fucking. Your clothes are crumpled, bottoms stained with her juices, making them look like you’ve wet yourself.

“You just wanted me to fuck you. God, what a slut, paying $100 for a quick fix.”

Aeri shakes her head, she’s trying to fight for her composure. “You were taking pictures of me first.”

Her words bring an idea to your mind. “Because you paid, whore. You expect me to believe you didn’t want this when your pussy is this tight around me?”

The camera you had discarded next to the beanbag. You flick it on, and yank the strap out of her cunt. It flutters indiscriminately. Aeri’s hands flash down to the strap, trying to coax it back inside, her hips scooping like if she tried hard enough she could be filled again. Focusing on the wet mess of her crotch, you manage to capture a photo.

Shiny and slick, pink, swollen with want. Her hand in the corner, wrapped around your stick cock. You can’t hold back a groan. The photo is purely pornographic.

“Look at you.” The camera is flipped, pushed into her face. “Your slutty cunt needs this.”

Aeri’s unfocused eyes take a moment to zero in on the picture. Almost immediately, they blow out along with a filthy fucking moan.

“More.” She yanks on the strap, ungracefully grinding it on her clit. “I’m fucking paying you for photos.”

Her eyes lock onto yours. “Take. More.”

She doesn’t have to ask again.

It’s clumsy from then on out. You only have one hand to keep her legs split, one hand to hold yourself up. The other is for photos.

Anytime her cunt gushes and your head gets dizzy with arousal, you line up a picture. Anytime she sucks in a moan and you smear your thumb against her clit, you line up a picture.

She’s so pretty and pink. You’re obsessed. Even the prickling pain of her nails sinking into skin and leaving pulsing red lines aren’t enough to make you stop.

You don’t even notice when she starts to squirm, completely and utterly overstimulated.

“Park. Fucking…” A pained moan. “Stop- Hurts.”

You snap a final picture, creamy arousal dripping down onto the beanbag, a wet spot underneath, big enough that she’d have to wash the entire thing to cover it up.

Aeri pushes a foot into your stomach, forcing your centre of gravity off place and pushing you onto your butt. The strap pops out of her hole and she slaps a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry.

Her cunt is swollen, creamy and so so so pinky raw. It’s impossible for you not to scramble back to your knees, one hand already pulling her folds apart to get the best shot.

The shutter clicks and it’s stored away in the memory card forever.

Then there’s a breath of air and you loosen the harness, letting it drop to the floor.

Hypothetically, not that you had thought about this before, you would have pushed Aeri over and found some part of her body to grind out your own orgasm on. It was only fair — 1-1.

But you don’t feel the need to. It was relieving just to get her to shut up for a moment and let you take all semblance of control. Even if it meant she was 1-0. Plus, you hadn’t even noticed when she had finally cummed on the strap.

Fucked that you were letting Aeri not pay you back. Then again, $100 was payment enough.

Oh.

Your phone is empty of notifications when you pull it from your pocket, but the time blinks back at you.

16:07.

You can’t help the bark of laughter that falls out. It’s past the hour. Another paycheck for you.

“What are you laughing at?” Aeri’s mumbles are clear enough for you to decipher. She lifts her head just enough to let you glimpse her half-lidded eyes.

Crawling back, you shove the phone in her face.

“Seven past.” You grin. It takes a moment before she groans, sinking her head back into the beanbag.

1-1.

You win.

NOTE: is this finished? mmhhhhhhhh not really (i was gon write them fucking another round but i wasn't horny enough rah rah blah blah) goddamn it

#!! dreamy’s pieces #giselle x reader #aespa smut #uchinaga aeri x reader #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #giselle smut #idol x reader #aespa imagines #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #giselle x fem reader #aeri x reader

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rinsoap · 4 months ago

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baji keisuke and jealousy!

✿²˖ ࣪ ➣ includes : hyperbolic possessiveness. not to spoil it, but he says he'll kill somebody lol u know how he is lollll but if u don't wanna read that, pls skip this!

note : i'll get back to scheduled haikyuu programming soon i just love baji bad!!!

"who is that?" baji keisuke asks, referring to the instagram notification at the top of your screen. your boyfriend is propped against the headboard of his bed, you sat between his legs, his knees bent, with the back of your head to his chest. he liked watching you go on your phone, kissing your temples while one of his arms rests on your stomach, fingers tapping to the beat of the song stuck in his head. "oh, i don't know, just some guy i guess" you shrug slightly, because it truly was just some guy. you had tons of people in your dms it's not like you knew all their names. "well he's textin' my girl way too much" he reaches around your arm to click on the notification. the dude had replied five times to one story you had posted of your face, talking about how gorgeous you were and how he wanted you bad. mf even replied with #needthat 😭 you couldn't see your boyfriend's face, but you could tell he was getting angrier by every message, holding you tighter and scoffing. you turn your head slightly, looking up at him to see an incredulous smile on his face, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. lord he looked good when he was mad. "bajiii c'mon it's fine, i'll just block him" you say calmly as you turn around to face him, sitting on your knees with your arms out to his face, thumb stroking his cheek. "get him to drop his fucking address n i'll beat him up" he shakes his head. he knows you're pretty. how could he not? but he hated how bold some dudes could be about how bad they wanted you. didn't they know you were taken?

the truth is a lot of them didn't. baji likes his privacy, so you don't really post him a lot, despite having so many pictures of the two of you together. if you did post his face, he'd probably tell you to take it down anyways. "come here pretty girl," he says with a small pout on his lips. you climb onto his lap eagerly, straddling him as he wraps his arms around you. "you're all mine," he whispers into your ear, "never forget that" you nod in agreement and plant a soft kiss on his lips. "could never forget, baji," you say, lips still brushing against his, "you're my number one guy promise" you smile sweetly before taking out your phone.

"better not be texting him back" he tsks with a raised eyebrow, jaw clenching. you giggle and open your phone, swiping into instagram's camera. when he realized what you were doing, he dropped his head to rest it on your shoulder with a loud groan. he always gets so shy on camera. "babeee you don't have to hide, i'll cover your face," you tease while your fingers rake through his black hair, "never underestimate my photography skills" a smile you can't see tugs at his lips, and he sighs as he lifts his head. "one picture" he demands and assumes his frequent position embracing you tightly with his arms and you locate one of yours on his shoulder, hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. you hum and extend your free arm out to the side, phone in hand, the angle focusing on your face. the lighting was dark, only lit with a lamp on his bedside table, but his hold on you was clear, same with your place on his lap. he kisses your cheek, muttering something about taking the fucking picture and you oblige. his face is mostly hidden besides part of his jaw and his ear, but his distinct hair gave him away.

you grin proudly at the photo, quickly picking a song to post over it. you turn your phone to show your boyfriend the story which causes him to blush. you looked so good. and you were all his . he gives you a long kiss, and then presses one on your temple like he always does. he lingers by your cheek before mumbling something in your ear that makes your face hot. "i promise i'll kill anyone who tries anything with you, my love"

ᵎᵎᵎ ִֶ ࣪ ⊹ ֶָ ، 𓂅 the song you posted him to, the same one stuck in his head: DHL by frank ocean

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hellenhighwater · 2 months ago

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Hi! I was admiring your photos of the Icarus sculptures you're working on for the art grant thing (forgot what's it called, sorry in advance that I can't vote in it, I live in a different country, but I wish you the best of luck!), and something occurred to me. I made sculpture-like stuff before (mostly fabric based) and I had a really hard time figuring out how to take a photo of it for record keeping. Sculptures are meant to be seen in multiple angles for the best experience! And photography is a whole other skill set, so.

How are you deciding on choosing which photos to use? If you have a method for it?

I take a bunch of photos, at all different angles, trying to get the whole piece, and then a bunch of close up detail photos, and depending on the piece, I might go for some more artistic shots, playing more with focus or lighting. I usually have 50+ photos of any given artwork, just for documentation purposes. I will try to narrow down to maybe 5-10 pictures--3-4 just showing front, back, and sides, 2-3 showing angles from top and bottom, if the piece is meant to be viewed that way, and then a handful of other shots for interesting detail. Using Prometheus here as an example:

Standard shots above, and then fun shots:

But actually my primary documentation for a lot of this is video! I use the photos for formal listings, like on my website or for submissions, because that's the standard format, but video is a lot more compelling and gives people a better sense of how the object interacts with space. Don't be shy to take the same sort of documentation steps with photos and video both.

And realistically, documenting art is time consuming and is for sure its own skillset. I'd consider myself a poor-to-mediocre photographer, and it takes me easily an hour just to set up, shoot, and then narrow down photos for one art piece.

#ask #the mythology series

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endieinwonderland · 6 months ago

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Let The Light In: Part 1

Part 2 Part 3

Words: 1,448

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so in the wrong, angst no comfort.

A/N: This is officially the second thing I’ve written, and it marks the beginning of the first series I’ve started. That being said, my ambition doesn’t necessarily match my skill set, so critiques are more than welcome. Thank you for bearing with me! 🙏 😭 ❤️

"Alright, ladies, let's get this show on the road! We need everyone to go to their assigned positions, please! If you've forgotten where you go, check the initials on the tape on the floor to find your spot. We’ll be around in five to remove it and to check the lighting," Charlie's voice booms through a megaphone, slicing through the bustling energy of the gym.

At her direction, people begin shuffling around at once. The UConn women’s basketball team quickly finds their spots, joking amongst themselves while you and the photography team works around them, trying to make everything perfect.

“Hey C, we need a light in the left corner!" you call out, your voice faltering as you notice a stubborn piece of tape left on the floor.

Rolling your eyes, you kneel to peel it off with a quick tug, adding it to the growing collection in your clenched fist, freezing only momentarily when you see the bold ‘P.B.’ written across it.

‘Shit.’

You swivel on your heel, turning away from the woman in front of you before standing and scurrying back to the safety of your monitor.

“All good?” Charlie nudges your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, all good. We should probably get started.”

She nods, picking up the megaphone again. “Okay, thank you everyone for your patience. We’re all ready! Let’s start with some smiles, okay?” You attach your camera to the tripod before looking back at the monitor. “1..2..3, and get ready for flashes please!” You shout, clicking the shutter button a few times, turning to look at the pictures as they upload to the large screen in front of you.

A few murmurs of "looks good" echo as others look over your shoulder, but something feels off.

Noticing your hesitation, Charlie walks over and looks at the screen before speaking up. “Hey, number 5, can you twist a bit to your left, please? You’re turning away from the group.”

Recognizing the issue immediately, she calls out to Paige, who keeps her eyes fixed on Charlie as she moves, avoiding your gaze.

“Better?” Asks Charlie.

“Better.”

You return to the camera, taking a few more shots, occasionally shouting out instructions for different facial expressions until you get a thumbs-up from your boss, signaling it’s time to move on to individual shots.

“Okay, starting with last names in alphabetical order, can we please get Ms. Bueckers out first?”

Seeing her name was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different story. You can’t suppress your reaction this time, your breath catching in your throat.

You hear her before you see her, steps echoing through the gym before standing in front of you for the first time in a year, completely emotionless as she stares directly into the camera, startling you with the indirect eye contact as you look through the lens.

“What are we going for?” she asks, turning to Charlie, completely ignoring your presence.

“Let’s start out serious, and we’ll move on from there?” You can barely hear Charlie’s directions over the ringing in your ears.

‘You’re a professional, be professional.’

You steel yourself before turning to Paige. “Give me a game day face,” she doesn’t look at you when you speak, instead choosing to continue to stare down the camera as if it's committed some personal offense against her. She crosses her arms, drawing her lips into a tight line as you click the shutter a few times.

You’re working on autopilot, taking shot after shot when something stops you, something's wrong. You look up to see Paige's gaze set on you now. The intensity of her stare unnerving, and you almost feel guilty for having captured it.

Your hesitation and the absence of your shutter clicking doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand taps your shoulder, startling you. Your boss, Leo, is behind you, softly shaking his head.

“Hey, you can stop. We can’t use these.” You turn to Paige, then back to Leo, a shocked “Why not?” leaving your mouth before you can stop it.

He sighs as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Come look at them with me, please,” he motions, guiding you back to the monitor.

You clickon the last picture you took and turn back to Leo. “I mean, the lighting's fine, focus is good, I don’t get what’s the matter with it.”

He says nothing in response, instead just leaning over to zoom in on Paige’s face, or rather her eyes which are swimming in unshed tears.

“We can’t use these,” he repeats lowly before turning away from you.

“Can we get a few shots with Ms. Brady, please?”

You turn back to where Paige had been standing, but she’s no longer there; you barely catch sight of her exiting the gym, Caroline and Azzi hot on her tail.

“What’s her deal?” Charlie mutters, standing at your side again. Tearing your attention away from the gym doors.

“Hell if I know,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance before walking back to your camera and turning to face Ice.

“We'll start with a few dribbling shots if that's okay with you?”

The media team quickly snaps back into action, and within six hours, almost everything is done, setting what might genuinely be a new media day record.

Exhausted, you slump down onto the bleachers, hoping to close your eyes for a few moments. But Leo’s hand tapping on your shoulder interrupts you for the second time today .

"We need to have a chat," he says, giving you a stern look. Nodding, you rise to follow your boss back to the monitor where a new picture of Paige is displayed.

"Listen, I'm not sure what the deal was with the first set of pictures you shot, or if her reaction had anything to do with you at all," You open your mouth to defend yourself when he raises his hand to stop you. "No, I don’t need to know if something happened between you two, I just need to know if you think she’d be okay with you trying again, because please look at these." He points to the monitor; the pictures aren't bad per se but they are—for lack of a better phrase—lifeless.

Her posing feels forced and the angles aren’t her best. You’ve taken enough photos of her to know what works, and the man photographing her now, Will, simply hasn't captured her effectively.

"We need to be professionals and make sure all the players are comfortable at all times, so I want you to really think about it," Leo finishes before stepping away, leaving you alone at the monitor, staring as new pictures of the blonde appear on the screen, each one worse than the last.

"Charlie!" you call out, waiting for her to approach.

"What do you think of these?"

She glances at the photos and shrugs, "I love Will, but you could do better."

"Leo thinks I should try again."

She tries, but fails to hide her surprise, "Are you sure Paige would be okay with that?"

Shrugging, you reply "I don't see why not; we didn't have a falling out, she just stopped talking to me."

After a pause, you add, "But I will speak to Will first to see if we can fix this without me behind the camera."

Charlie nods and goes to fetch Will, who is at your side in moments, eager to leave his camera -or rather, eager to leave Paige.

“You should be taking these," he insists before lowing his voice to a whisper, "She's tough to work with."

At this, you have to suppress a laugh; you know Paige’s capabilities well, she knew how to work a camera, it almost is impossible to take a bad picture of her.

"Have you tried letting her move during the shoot? Start with serious expressions; she starts goofing around after 15 minutes, and you'll miss the good shots. Then again, she'll probably be more professional with you than she was with me."

Will rolls his eyes, "I've tried everything." He motions back to his camera, “You should just give it another go."

After a brief motivational speech from Charlie and Will you resign yourself, approaching the camera once more.

“Is it okay if I try?” you find yourself asking softly, speaking to Paige properly for the first time in months.

She stares at you like a deer caught in headlights before quickly composing herself. A weak “yeah” is the only response you get, and it’s enough for you to feel comfortable quickly re-adjusting the camera and taking the first successful picture of Paige today.

She responds to you instantly, a forced grin quickly spreads across her face as you give a thumbs up, signaling for her to change poses. You both quickly fall into your old routine.

15 minutes in, you're constantly adjusting Will’s camera as she moves around, dribbling a ball, crossing her arms, and giving the camera a fierce look, then grinning ear to ear, her movements well-rehearsed from years of experience in front of your lens.

You only stop when an excited “We got it, guys!” is heard over the sounds of your shutter.

Leo, turns the monitor towards you where what might end up being one of the best pictures you’ve ever taken of her is displayed on the bright screen.

Before you can stop yourself, you’ve turned towards Paige, a proud smile stretched across your face. “Good job!”

A brief nod is all you get in response before she mutters a quick “thanks” in your direction.

The rest of the media team receives much more sincere thank yous, and she exits the gym quickly, leaving you alone to wonder the same question that always plagues you after seeing her: ‘What the hell happened to us?’

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #wcbb #wcbb x reader #wlw #paige bueckers angst #uconn huskies #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers headcannons #fanfic #angst #wbb

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