#I finally found high res versions of this photoshoot!!!

[5ummit]

Frank Grillo as Brock Rumlow (x)

[celesomnis]

❝ Loosen Up Your Buttons. . . ❞

Nyoka Wadjet x Photographer Reader

The Prefect assists Nyoka with what they expect to be a small and casual photo-shoot for his magicam profile. What transpires is the most breath-loss the Prefect's has ever experienced in a mere hour's time.

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@cozymochi and @oddberryshortcake 's slitheringly handsome oc makes a return, baby

you know I had to do it to em.

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Now, truth be told, you didn't exactly grasp the huge draw to Magicam.

It seemed not to be dissimilar to your universe's version of instagram, and maybe fused with facebook too based on some of the interface.

Your old friends back home had always found it amusing that you weren't a social-media-bug, despite being so proficient in digital photography.

The short answer to that was: you preferred candids. And every photo on people's socials went through more edits and "touch-ups" than celebrity magazine covers.

Now, by some miraculous grace of fate, one of the first things you acquired when you entered this brand new world was the thing you can scarcely imagine living without - a camera.

A normal one? No. Professional one? Doubtful. Crowley gave it to you, after all.

But until you can get home, the pictures it develops are a high enough quality to satisfy your itch.

Now, even though you didn't exactly shy away from expressing your love for your hobby t your new friends here, it still took the NRC a little while to catch on to your exact talents.

It wasn't until Vil payed you a (shockingly substantial) amount of Thaumarks to photograph a few headshots for Epel that the school got its first a real taste for your skills.

And this was where a certain beastman came slithering back onto your radar.

"A photoshoot?" you repeat as you stall from placing down your final knight. You were in the middle of one of your now weekly sessions of chess matches, currently pretending you weren't vitally aware how badly you were losing this time. "Like, a real one? For your magicam account?"

"Yes." his reply is low and matter-of-fact, and, you notice, without shame.

Not that he should feel shame. Of all people, you think he should not. Every time you see him, it just re-instills in you how unnatural perfect he is.

You have to break yourself free of your own thoughts, teasing him to cover your blush, "Oh? So you don't 'have a guy' for that already?"

"I will," Nyoka leans more onto his knuckle, making the window light flicker across his glasses. "Have you. If you agree to it."

That sets off the heat in your face tenfold. You make a clumsy move on the board that Nyoka takes instant advantage of. A few more moves go by, between you both, before you finally answer.

"Alright" you say, holding up a finger, "On one condition. Outside of lighting and contrast adjustments, the photos get no edits."

You can't tell if the face he gives is because he finds that condition foolish, or if he is minutely approvingly towards your integrity.

Regardless, leans forward a tad more, showing off the sharp juts of his collarbones, and murmurs, "Very well." before checkmating you.

May the Seven have mercy on me, you think to yourself.

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The Seven do not have mercy at all, and in fact, must have banded together for your downfall.

Because when you walk into the private Savanaclaw room where Nyoka texted you to meet him, your knees almost buckle.

"Wadjet." The sight before you is off-guard catching that you call him by his surname.

He gives you only an acknowledging "Mmh?" while adjusting his braids over the many, many defined muscles of his back. Each one sticking out against his sheer shirt.

You think you die while this happens. You're still standing, and awake, but you aren't breathing, so you can't be too sure either way.

"You're-" comes squeaking from your throat.

You were about to say "you're wet", because the statement is true. He is wet. His entire upper half is drenched enough that his shirt has become see-through.

And it so baffling that this is the reality you're in that you nearly just blurt "you're wet" at him, but you can't say that. Not out loud. That can't come out anything but wrong.

He's watching you now, pinning you with those snake charmer eyes. Without the glare of his glasses, the warm sunlike colors in his eyes shine unobscured, drying your throat like desert sand.

Oh hell, prefect, get ahold of yourself. Please. You're a photographer. He asked you because he must trust you to be professional. Do not ruin this already fragile friendship by being stupid.

"You're ready... for the pictures... like that."

Oh god.

"You were late. I got prepared to keep ahead of schedule." Nyoka points out dryly.

He surely must to see how disheveled your expression is, and how your eyes keep skating down his chest, but you're thankful he isn't bringing it up.

You force a breath in and out. "Right. Let's- let's just get started. Where do you want to stand?"

"Are you not the photographer?" Nyoka challenges coolly, "And I not the subject? Your job is to adjust me into the ideal image."

Hauntingly erotic visage or no, he is still the Nyoka you've been playing chess with for the passed weeks.

To yourself, you mutter, "like you need me for that.", while pointing your camera to a few different spots in the room. Looking for the points with the best lighting.

"Over here." you decide, directing him between two deep red curtails.

There's a scoff from him, but he moves obediently to the position. The first pose he tries is a simple one. Raising his arms into a loose grasp of each curtain, stretching his wet shirt up slightly up his stomach.

You swallow hard.

"Uh, maybe, um, turn a little. To the side."

Nyoka edges his body sideways slowly, waiting for your signal to stop. His movement is languid, smooth and fluid as water. His face, though is as impassive as ever, clearly unaffected by the alluded high intimacy of this venture at all.

But in front of the lens, it turns smoldering. His professional training kicking in. His eyes burn you, and his lips are very slightly pursed in a way that accentuates their shape.

The camera is shaking in your hands. If these photos come out blurry, there'll be nothing else to blame except you.

With all your will, you steel your arms.

"Good. Can you," you hear yourself say, "Curl your tale, around your body."

After a minute, his tail slides up from its spot on the floor, and begins to spiral around his waist, peaking up into the lens view of the shot.

"Higher?" you rasp.

He does what you ask. The tail curls up until its a loop frames his abdomen, and the tip is grazing a loose hug to his chest. You swear that somehow you can feel the tail as if its on your own body instead.

Photos snap. Your heart won't stop slamming itself into your ribs.

His scales glitter with the perspiration on his neck. The pose you adjusted him to reveals the contours of his figure like some kind of marble statue in a museum. His skin glowing in this warm, fiery light.

These are probably the best photos you'll take in your whole life, and you aren't sure you can ever look at them again, not if you want to maintain any semblance of sanity in front of Nyoka from now on.

You stop clicking.

"Okay... I got- I got it."

Nyoka relaxes into a more familiar pose, crossing his arms and inclining his head by way to call you over. Wanting to see the results.

You inch over to him. You mean to just hand him the camera, even though it feels like you're handing someone your own severed limb every time you let people scrutinize your work.

But instead, he leans over you. His tall form hunches to peer over one of your shoulders, his wet shirt pressing onto your back, and his hand grabs over your's that's still on the camera.

Nyoka lightly pushes you finger aside with his own and hits the scrolling button. Reviewing the footage.

You do nothing because you actually are dead this time. Every ounce of breath has exited your lungs. There's nothing left inside you except mush and a loud, deafening roaring sound at your's ears.

A hum blows passed your ear. "So Schoenheit wasn't exaggerating. You are well at what you do. I could be impressed, mouse."

Oh yeah, you're dead.

Some mild eternity later, Nyoka rescues your soul by detaching from you. Walking to grab a small towel and pressing it over his neck.

"Adjust the lighting on those final four how you see fit," you hear him instruct you distantly, "I will chose the best one when you send them to me. Have them sent to me before next week's shoot, we'll discuss pay and post dates then."

Life crashes back upon you.

You whip around. Nearly drop the camera, fumble for it, and squeeze it into your both arms like it can protect you from the prospect you just heard.

"Next week!?"

"Next week," Nyoka confirrms. His eyes find your's, they pool heat into like lava. "You're my 'guy' for this now. Wasn't that the deal."

Oh. What the hell have you gotten yourself into.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

Little Berry [Hina Ichigo | Rozen Maiden]

I just finished leveling all healers to 100 on my main, so it's time for another cosplay glam photoshoot in celebration!

Alice's healer outfit is inspired by Hina Ichigo, the sweet, strawberry-themed little sister of the Rozen Maidens. Eorzea Collection with the gear list is here, and below are the full, high-res versions of the screenshots used!

Further Notes

Other customizations: Hairstyle is 102 (one of the female Lalafell Defaults), colored 59 gold with highlights a more reddish 74. Eyes are 181 green.

Each glam in this project is meant to be role-specific, including having an appropriately themed weapon for all the jobs of that role. I'd been debating for a good while which White Mage weapon I wanted to use for Hina, but once I saw the Dawntrail relic, I realized I'd finally found what I needed!

Depending on how the second stage of the relic looks, I might continue using it in Alice's "live" glams as I play, but unfortunately my Eorzea Collection posts will be frozen in time. (One day I might also need to update my Shinku glam too, as the Metallic Ruby Red that arrived with Cosmic Exploration works even better for it than normal Metallic Red…)

Anyway, Hina Ichigo here is another study in how I like to capture the spirit of the cosplay design, not so much the particulars. The Far Eastern Beauty’s Hairpin isn’t actually a giant bow. The Diadochos Coat and Boulevardier's Ruffled Pantaloons aren’t actually a floofy skirt and petticoats. But taken together, they kind of give that impression, don’t they?

Bonus

A few more shots that I liked but that didn't make it into the Eorzea Collection:

Happy Pride Month, everyone! :3

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 42

We left the Gold Coast on February 13th, returned home for two days, then were off again…first to Berlin for a screening of ‘The Night Manager’ with a Q & A session, then on to Vietnam, where shooting began the day after we arrived. The entire experience there was life-altering, in a way. The people, who were so kind, generous, and welcoming, and the locations, some of which had never before been filmed, were majestic and evocative of a land time had, to our benefit, forgotten…but most of all, the opportunity to immerse myself in a culture I had little knowledge of was humbling, and miraculous, and I made every effort to be out and about with every spare moment I had. When production wrapped in mid-March, Jordan announced that he was planning on relocating to the area, and I found myself just the tiniest bit jealous. There was such a sense of peace there, despite such a tumultuous upheaval in the not so distant past…a testament to the human spirit, our ability to keep pressing onward, to continue to live, and even thrive. A lesson in perspective, I suppose.

Tom was due in Los Angeles on March 20th for a photoshoot, so we opted to go directly there instead of heading home to London and then back out again. The 21st was booked with interviews, which would be followed by the official ‘I Saw the Light’ premiere on the 22nd. This was the first time I’d be walking a red carpet with him, other than the brief appearance at the Cube. Though Tom normally preferred the Beverly Hills Hotel, we were staying at the Loews Hollywood due to its proximity to the Egyptian, where the screening would be held, and Sadie’s Kitchen, the venue chosen for the after party. Our room was on the 15th floor, modern décor in shades of grey, white and burgundy, with a view of the Hollywood sign…currently packed with a team of stylists, garment bags and rolling racks making me feel like a sardine in a tin. Granted, a very lovely tin, but a tin nonetheless. Tom was almost ready to go, his bright blue suit complementing his eyes perfectly, black necktie offering a bold contrast to his white dress shirt. I was still in my skivvies, one of the gals taping me into my strapless bra ‘just in case’. Despite the opportunity it created for an epic wardrobe malfunction, I was totally in love with my gown. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, gradient purple, near black at the top, fading to pale lilac midway down in the front and plum in the back. The skirt was floor length and full, and both a portion of it and nearly the entire bodice were decorated with silver vines and leaves, cascading downward like a waterfall. I’d opted for dark purple heels, on the thick side because I figured there was less of a risk of tripping in front of the press line that way. Around my neck was my tourmaline necklace, and my hair had been pinned up in a loose bun. As I pondered what food choices awaited me at Sadie’s, the gal announced that my tits were secure and I was instructed to step carefully into the gown, zipped up, and released into the wild to fend for myself. Tom’s hands descended upon my shoulders as I inspected the contents of my clutch one final time, making sure I had a room key, my cell phone, tissues and a Snickers bar.

“You look gorgeous, as always.”

I turned my head to meet his gaze. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” He grinned, releasing me, and I spun around to get a better look at him. “Mmm. That is a nifty suit. To the left…to the right…where will…aha, LEFT. What’s that, eight out of ten or something?”

“I didn’t realize we were collecting data. Will the results be in the form of a bar graph or a pie chart?”

“A fifty page thesis, actually. Available for sale on Amazon. I figure we can fund our retirement with it.”

He laughed, interrupted by his phone chirping. “Car’s here. Let’s roll.”

“Walk. I’m going to walk. Probably. Rolling sounds like ‘a YouTube Star is Born’. But I suppose that could fund some shit too…”

We exited arm in arm, piled into the elevator with a bunch of other fancy people I didn’t know, then climbed into the black SUV waiting for us. It was still light out, the day bright and sunny. Our vehicle was sixth in line when we pulled up to the Egyptian Theater, and my jaw dropped at how old-school big-glam Hollywood it looked, the red carpet lining the courtyard, velvet ropes and press wherever I looked. It was far from my first rodeo, but it was the first time I’d be at such an event in the capacity of ‘movie star’s plus one’. A low whistle escaped my lips.

“Wow, so we’re like, really doing this. Surreal, Tom. Sur-REAL.”

He took my hand in his, pulling my attention away from what I could see outside the window. I smiled at the sight of the excitement written all over his face. “It is that, positively. And I’m…I’m…well, I’m like a live wire, Maude. Crackling and vibrating and super charged with energy because I’m not walking this one alone, you’re going to be right by my side and…” He let go of my hand, flinging both his up in the air and waving them around jazz-style as he grinned. “I. AM. UNCONTROLLABLY EXCITED!”

I leaned in to kiss his cheek, quickly wiping the lipstick I left behind away with one of my tissues. “My god you are just too cute. Does this car have a sick bag? Because the cute is going to make me barf, for sure.” I mock-gagged.

He continued to grin like a fool as he pointed to the window behind me. “We’re up! It’s time! Let’s go, my lady. LET’S GO!”

Before I could ask for a moment to get my shit together, he was out of the car, the roar of waiting fans greeting him as he ran around to my side and opened the door for me. I took his proffered hand and stepped out into the daylight, the roars growing louder, our names being shouted above the din by press and onlookers alike. As we made our way down to the entrance, Tom stopped to sign and take selfies as long as time would allow, and then it was time for us to strike a pose. The flashes were the worst part, a ceaseless strobing that made it very difficult to focus, but mid-way through my eyes and brain seemed to adjust and I found myself having a really good fucking time mugging for the cameras with the man of the evening. The interviews were a blast, Tom taking the lead and doing most of the talking, pulling me in here and there when it was someone he’d interacted with on previous occasions or mentioned my name. We were like a comedy improv team that sang on command, and by the time we made it into the actual screening I was totally high on fun. Not exactly the right vibe for such a serious, angsty, sad movie, but in the end I was grateful I went into it with a boost because the ended pregnancy talk scene was difficult to watch even though it was the second time around. There I sat, holding back tears with Tom’s hand in mine, shaking, and me rubbing his wrist with my thumb. As soon as the credits rolled we were ushered quickly to the car, and then it was off to Sadie’s. I was a very intimate setting, the décor an eclectic mix of woods, stones, metals and glass. The food was a bit too micro for my taste, and there were moments when I seriously considered grabbing an entire tray of hor d'oeuvres and making a break for the coatroom. Tom had been indulging in champagne all evening, and Rodney’s band was in the house, so I knew that it wouldn’t be long until an impromptu jam session occurred. I’d avoided going to the bathroom since we left the hotel, and the three sodas I’d guzzled made it impossible to postpone any longer. I kissed Tom on the cheek, leaving him with the drummer whose name I’d been given but could absolutely not recall and headed for the rest room. Fitting into the stall was the first hurdle, turning around was the second, and it actually got more and more complicated every step of the way until my hands were full of fabric and my ass was on the chilly seat. Figuring out how to wipe was the Rubik’s cube of the process, and I stared at the toilet paper dispenser for an untold amount of minutes. I heard the band begin to play Move It On Over, heard them finish, then start up with Long Gone Lonesome Blues. Tom’s yodeling snapped me out of my stupor and I bunched all the fabric in the crook of one arm, tore off the necessary quantity of sheets with my free hand and took care of business like a boss. As I thanked the gods for auto-flush, I unlocked the stall, dropped the fabric back in place and propelled myself outward…right into Lizzie, who was wearing a far more practical dress that wasn’t all floaty and poufy and just waiting for an accident to happen. She grinned.

“So? Enjoying the party? Or did you come in here to hide like, you know, I DID?”

I laughed. “So far, so good. Nice to know it’s not just me who seeks refuge in bathrooms, though. But this time it’s a legit visit. Which was terrifying.”

“Maude, there are more dresses in my closet that I wound up buying because they were unfit to return then I care to count. Wine, toothpaste, hair gel, lipstick, chocolate, things I don’t even know what they are and probably don’t want to…and lemme tell ya, I know all the best bathrooms for hiding in SO many cities all around the world. The private ones with really loud fans are just…” She sighed. “Perfection.”

Washing my hands, I nodded. “Oh yeah. Peace and quiet. If they only came with a Do Not Disturb sign…”

“Oh my GOD, there’s a bathroom in a restaurant in Toronto, I can’t remember the name but I know where it is, I can see it…damn…anyway, they HAVE that.”

“No they do not.”

She nodded, walking to the stall furthest from the door. “Yes they do! Best twenty minutes of my night a few years back.” Turning, she waved. “Okay, I’m goin’ in. If anyone’s looking for me…”

“I have no idea where you are.”

She blew me a kiss. “Bless you.”

As I re-entered the chaos, I was hit with an extra-loud, slightly slurred version of Hey Good Lookin’, and I couldn’t wait to round the corner and see Tom in action. And take a video. Which I’d totally post on Tumblr because surely it was something the entire world needed to see. The band had set up on one side of the dining area, which had been cleared of tables, and they were surrounded by cast and crew, some standing and clapping, others dancing. Tom was easy to spot, and as I worked my way through the crowd, I noticed that there was a woman hanging on him, her arm resting on his shoulder as she shimmied to the beat. She was waiflike, incredibly thin and tall, taller than Tom, even, in her white stilettos, her white mini dress so short I didn’t think it would be possible for her to sit down without putting on one hell of a show. There were triangular cut-outs at the waist, and her platinum blonde hair hung halfway down her back. Her eyes were huge, greenish-grey, and beautiful, the stand out component of her heart-shaped face with its perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. I’d never seen her before and had never asked him to point her out in the film, though I now recognized her from it, and as I registered that it was the woman he was terrified of running into, and that we’d forgotten the possibility of her being there, or at least I had, my heart began to pound in my chest. Claudia. Right there, in front of me, rubbing up against my fiancé.

As the song ended everyone cheered, and she placed her hands on either side of Tom’s head, turned his face towards hers, then kissed him squarely on the lips in far too intimate a fashion and for entirely too long. I heard a few gasps, but they were eclipsed by the roaring of my heartbeat in my ears, and I fought the urge to scream as I watched him gently push her away. He turned back toward the crowd, stone-faced, and when his mask slipped almost imperceptibly I knew he’d spotted me. I wanted to run, flee the scene, disappear into the night but this was a party full of his co-workers, part of the promo, and doing so would certainly hit the gossip rags in a flash and had the potential to damage the success of the film and so I stood, and I faked a smile as he walked toward me with the woman who possessed a cache of sex tapes starring them both at his side. Once they were two feet away, she opened her clutch and pulled out what I knew to be a hotel room key, as it bore the same logo as the one in my own. Her voice was a much higher pitch than mine, volume just loud enough for both Tom and I to hear when she spoke, pressing the plastic rectangle into his hand.

“Here’s my key. Panorama suite two. I’ll see you shortly.” She turned to me, smirking, then back to him, gesturing in my direction with her thumb. “You can bring her too, if you want, even though she’s not exactly my type. That giant cock of yours more than makes up for it.”

She grinned widely at me, then walked across the room, hair swaying back and forth as she rolled her hips, finally vanishing around the corner and into the hall that led to the exit after what seemed like forever. I heard Tom say my name, and I looked up, but I stared at the knot in his tie because I couldn’t look him in the eye. He took my hand in his, which I permitted, and after his first ‘good night’ it dawned on me that one, I should do the same because two, apparently he’d decided it was time to get the fuck out of there. As soon as we rounded the same corner Claudia had minutes earlier, I pulled my hand from his. Neither of us spoke then, and when he began to do so in the car, I silenced him with a terse ‘not now’.

The ban continued as we entered the hotel, and throughout the elevator ride. Once the room door was closed and locked behind us, I held up both hands, palms toward him.

“Tom. I’m going into the bathroom. I’m going to take this dress off. I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to try and calm down and return to some sort of quasi-rational version of myself. You are going to stay out here.” I could feel the rage bubbling up, words I shouldn’t say spilling out of my mouth. “Unless, of course, you’re planning on joining Claudia, which, FYI, I am NOT.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. I’ll be out when I’m ready.”

Once safely tucked away, I focused on each individual detail of every task. Zipper down. Dress off. Hang up the dress. Tape off. Bra off. Underwear off. Water on. Test water. Step into shower. By the time I’d dried off, I once again understood that the man on the other side of the door loved me, and that I loved him, and trusted him, and that we needed to discuss what had happened because there was a side to this story I’d yet to hear, and doing or saying or thinking anything without having that knowledge would be unreasonable. And wrong.

He was sitting on the floor, jacket and tie off, shirt unbuttoned ,back leaning up against the bottom of the bed with his knees up and his head in his hands. Hearing me pad across the carpet, he looked up at me, his forlorn expression shifting briefly to one of desire, which baffled me until I realized I was naked. Knowing that he wanted me in the midst of all this was strangely comforting, and empowering. I pulled a robe out of the top dresser drawer, wrapping it around myself as I walked to the bed and sat down, his body to the left of my own. His gaze was cast downward again, and I reached out and began rubbing the back of his neck, speaking softly.

“Will you sit with me and tell me what happened?”

He nodded, rising quickly and joining me on the mattress. His eyes met mine, and he inhaled deeply.

“I had no idea she’d be attending. I didn’t even think to ask. If I’m honest, I hadn’t given her a single thought in months, not until we watched the movie here, and even then the possibility of her turning up didn’t even cross my mind for more than a few seconds…and I pushed it away as me being paranoid. As soon as I started in on Hey Good Lookin’ I felt someone to my left, which wasn’t out of the ordinary as people had been all around me since we began playing, but the someone was incredibly close, and at first I thought you’d snuck up on me and were going to join in, but when I turned to look it was…her. And there I was, in the middle of a song, in front of everyone, and I wanted to stop and get away from her but…”

It was my turn to nod. “In front of everyone. I know that feel.”

He shook his head. “I told myself to remain professional, to keep going, and I thought if I pretended that we were filming I’d be fine. Then she…she…she kissed me in front of everyone, and I just couldn’t believe it and she just kept going and I wanted to shove her off me but that would have looked…and so I did it as normally as I could and the whole time I was hoping you were still in the bathroom but then I saw you…” He paused. “And when I started toward you she came WITH me and then the keycard and what she said…then watching you keep yourself together when I knew you were…I’m sorry. So, so sorry. If that kiss makes it online…my god. I’m sorry.”

His head was in his hands again, shoulders shaking as he wept, and I recognized that this experience had been so deeply traumatic for him that he didn’t quite realize it yet, his unconsciously focusing outwardly serving as diversion. I wrapped my arms around him and held him to my chest, stroking his hair until he quieted enough to listen. When he was able to look me in the eye again, I began to speak.

“Thank you for explaining. That’s essentially what I thought had happened, and, I’m very sorry it happened to you.” His left brow rose. “What she did was so completely inappropriate…I mean, that’s not really surprising, but…yeah. Is it okay if I go through my thought process here?”

He half-smiled. “Yes.”

“Obviously, there’s a component of jealousy. That hit me first. This beautiful woman that’s been intimate with you kissed you right in front of me, and you look amazing together, and she’s tall and blonde and skinny…and the way she presented the keycard to you made it seem like you had an arrangement, a plan in place. Most of way back here all what was going through my mind was that you’d been secretly contacting her and set this all up. But, then I reminded myself exactly who, and what, she was to you, and the jealousy turned primarily to anger, directed at her, but there was still enough jealousy left to generate some serious nastiness on my part directed at YOU. And, like I said before, I wanted to avoid that because it was likely baseless and unwarranted, the jealousy. So I showered, and I listened, and DAMN that anger is way worse now and you should probably keep that room key far the fuck away from me…” I took a deep breath. “Sheese. Again, I’m very sorry this happened to you. However you want to handle it, I’m here to help. Whatever you need, okay?”

He reached out to touch my face, letting his fingertips drag across my jaw and down my neck before grasping my hand.

“I wasn’t even thinking of anything happening to me. I was afraid of what you’d think, and…”

I entwined my fingers with his. “I know. And I appreciate that. We’ve been through some shit, my dude, and I’m a runner. Or, I was. Now…you’re more important than my internal bullshit struggles.”

A smile lit up his face, but it faded quickly, replaced with fear, then sorrow, then anger over the next several silent minutes as he stared at me.

“Maude, all I know in this moment is that I’m finished being afraid of her. I remembered what you said back in New Orleans, our options, and…well, it’s time, I think, for her to know that what she views as having the upper hand…isn’t. Not anymore.” He ran one hand through his hair. “So. I’m going up there, and I’m going to deal with this for once, and for all. Unless you think it’s utter madness to do such a thing.”

My mouth dropped open as my brow rose. “Oh, it’s madness, alright. But I like it. Hmm…”

He laughed, then poked my collarbone softly with his finger. “Ah, a plan is afoot, is it?”

“No. A plan is a plan. Not a foot.” He groaned and covered his eyes briefly, gaze returning to meet mine as I continued. “Okay. Several things to consider here. Ideally, you’d do this alone. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Well, yes and no. Going in, absolutely. But when I visualize reaction scenarios, I am concerned that a situation might arise that would result in an unfavorable outcome.”

I snorted. “Yeah, as in her recording the entire exchange and then heavily editing it to paint you in a…a…let’s go with ‘negative light’.” He nodded. “The hotel security feed would take care of pinpointing when you entered and when you left, but everything in between is up for grabs, and that’s not acceptable. Having a witness seems warranted, but who’s the witness? Am I the witness? Does my bias preclude me from being reliable in reporting the truth?”

Tom nodded again. “Likely, yes. But you’re the only witness available who’s privy to all the details of the history involved, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to maintain any sort of confidentiality.”

This was something I had zero desire to participate in, for a multitude of reasons. It was pre-Maude, and in that aspect, none of my damn business. But since Claudia’s future actions could significantly impact my life, even if said impact was short-lived, that made it potentially my damn business. Then there was what I knew…what she’d done with him, and, far worse, what she’d done TO him. Unsettling at best, rage inducing at worst…in other words, I’d be walking into a situation wherein keeping myself in check was questionable, but of the utmost importance. And there it was, another lightbulb moment in the life and times of Maude Gallagher-soon-to-be-Hiddleston. I chuckled, and he stared at me, confused, head tilted to the side as he attempted to discern what was amusing.

I patted his knee. “I’m just laughing at my own stupidity, because I totally forgot that I’m a member of your PR team and thus have a rather valid reason to accompany you since part of the discussion will include…PR. And it ALSO gives me a reason to behave myself. Total coup, right?”

His arms wrapped around me, kissing first one cheek, then the other. “Oh, yes. Check mate.”

“No, that’s just the check. The checkmate is me recording the whole exchange on my phone, which will be tucked in my bra. Or somewhere.”

He pulled back, eyes wide. “Isn’t this a two party state? I recall you mentioning that…”

“Yeah. It is. But that won’t stop me from leaking it if the need arises. You know, someone could steal my phone at any given moment. It’s totally possible. I’m forgetful. I leave things behind ALL THE TIME…”

“Maude, you are deliciously fiendish. And I love you so.”

“Aw, thank you, baby. And I’m a total hypocrite, because I just admitted to being willing to do what I believe she shouldn’t. Anyway…criminal prosecution for this sort of thing is very rare. She could sue, of course. But I don’t think I care. Do you care?”

“I do not.”

“Cool. Hopefully we’ll never need to use it.” I rose, both hands finger-gunning in his direction. “Let’s do this.”

He stood, tugging at the fabric of my robe. “Should you dress first, do you think?”

I glanced down at myself. “Oh. Right. This is not one of my ‘don’t fuck with me’ ensembles.”

Snorting, he began re-buttoning his shirt. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Thomas. I’m struggling to keep a firm grasp on my professionalism. Cease.”

“Firm grasp, you say?”

I pretended to not hear him and searched my travel wardrobe for something that would work, in the end opting for black leggings, a fluffy, grey, oversize turtleneck sweater and my Birkenstock boots. As I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the way out the door, I decided my choices were just the right mix of business and badassery…but a V-neck would have made hiding the phone a whole lot fucking simpler.

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

There we stood, outside Panorama suite number two, me turned away from the door with my shirt lifted and bra on full display as I wedged my phone into it and hit record. Tom and I exchanged a few words, and then it was Titty Time again. I was relieved to hear the playback was nice and clear and began another session, putting a finger to my lips to let Tom know we were on the record, so to speak. He knocked loudly, then even louder when there was no immediate answer. When he paused, a clicking that could only be high heels on tile was audible, its increasing volume indicating the wearer was travelling in our direction. The door swung inward to reveal Claudia, now clad in white lingerie, a lacy bra, bikini panties, garters and filmy white stockings, all paired with the same white stilettos she’d worn to the party. She placed one hand on her hip, smirking widely.

“Well, well, well. Hello, Tom. I expected you to turn up, but not…” A thumb with a fuchsia fingernail jerked in my direction. “…her. Not exactly a pleasant surprise, but, whatever. Come on in. I’ve gotten off with my vibe three times already but I’m still SO fucking horny. Just one kiss from you, that’s all it takes…mmmm…”

Tom held up a hand, palm towards her. “Stop, Claudia. Right now. Control yourself until we’re behind closed doors, for god’s sake.”

She bit her lip. “Oh my, someone’s feeling forceful. Must be my lucky day!”

We walked in past her, and she followed after closing the door and engaging the slide-bolt lock, stopping in front of the not-so-mini mini bar to face us.

“Anyone else want a cocktail before cock?” Neither Tom nor I replied. “Well I do. I need one. Who wears a turtleneck to a threesome? Christ.”

Tom’s jaw clenched, then released as he spoke. “I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted the reason for this visit, Claudia. Hint, it’s not for a threesome. I’m only here to have a conversation with you, one we should have had quite some time ago. Maude’s presence is due to the fact that she’s a member of my PR team, and will serve as my advisor if necessary.”

She was stunned, silent, and the fingers she’d wrapped around a bottle of rum went white with the strength of her grip. When Tom noted it didn’t appear as if she’d reply, he continued.

“I’m not going to waste my time re-hashing the past, but I will say this…I made it abundantly clear that we were done when I discovered you were secretly filming our encounters. When I also made it clear that I didn’t love you, and pointed out that I’d never given you any reason to believe our relationship was anything more than purely sexual in nature, you threatened me. You threatened to provide a detailed account of our interactions to my family and friends, you threatened to publish all of the videos you’d made online, and you threatened to ruin my career and make my life a living hell.”

She’d done several double takes during his speech, looking at me, then back at him, then back at me, as if she couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that I might be aware that something had transpired between them. She finally relinquished her hold on the rum bottle, lifting her hands in surrender. “Tom, that was…I was…I just said all that because I was angry. I didn’t mean it.”

He scoffed. “Really? You didn’t mean it? Yet you accepted a million dollar payout from me?”

“I thought we had a future, Tom. Together. The money was like…alimony.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Claudia. What I want you to know is that from this day onward, you are to come nowhere near me. If for some reason we find ourselves at the same event or function, don’t approach me. Don’t speak to me. And most of all, don’t fucking TOUCH me. If you refuse to comply, I will not hesitate to file a restraining order against you.” He took two steps closer to her, his face now inches from hers. “Do you understand?”

She didn’t respond, and he repeated the question, his tone far harsher, volume ratcheting up five notches on the dial.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Crossing her arms, she sneered at him. “You know, I still have all those videos...it would be such a shame if they went public and Maude found out what kind of person you really are…”

And there was my cue. I pulled Tom backwards and away from her, then stepped in front of him.

“Maude is acutely aware of the contents of ‘those videos’, Claudia.” Air quotes. I felt like an Office Space character for a second, and really, really wanted to tell her that if she would kindly fuck off and die that’d be great. “Opting to publish them is entirely your choice to make.”

Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “So you’re fine with ruining his career and making yourself a laughing stock? That’s cool. I’ll totally publish them then.”

I shrugged. “Be advised that there will be repercussions that will affect you personally and professionally if you choose to take such action.” She opened her mouth to speak, and I held up my hand to cut her off at the pass, my right index finger pointing up toward the ceiling. “First, since you’ll be violating the terms of the NDA you signed, a suit will be filed for breach of contract wherein we’ll be requesting both expectation and disgorgement damages. That means you’ll be on the hook for repayment of the one million dollars you received as a settlement, as well as any lost revenue Tom incurs as a result of the breach. Secondly, criminal charges will be filed under California’s Revenge Porn Law, which defines said revenge porn as the publication of nude photos or videos of a person one used to be intimate with, without their consent, with an intent to cause serious emotional distress. Each video that was filmed in the state of California would incur a penalty of a fine in the amount of $1000 and up to six months in jail…based upon Tom’s estimate as to video quantity, you’d be facing a prison sentence of up to ten years. Thirdly, and lastly, criminal charges and a civil suit will be filed for your violation of the Invasion of Privacy act. California is a ‘two party’ state when it comes to audio recordings of confidential communication in situations and locations wherein there’s a reasonable expectation of privacy. Audio that’s a component of a video is covered under this particular statute, and penalties include a fine of up to $2500 and a year in jail. Long story short, Claudia…do you want to wind up in jail? Because publishing those videos is how you wind up in jail.”

While I spoke, I’d witnessed her face first going pale, then gradually reddening until it reached a final almost-purple hue. She was shaking with rage, and I just stood there, certain she was going to attack me Dynasty lady-feud style. But she didn’t, pausing, instead to digest what I’d said as best she could and find a way around it. Her eyes, now more grey than green, narrowed as she spoke.

“My attorney will drag out your breach suit for years, and if you win, I’ll hide all my assets and file for bankruptcy and you won’t see a dime, ever. As for the rest, there’s no proof Tom never consented to filming. Same with that distress bullshit. My word against his. I’ll take those odds, and when I’m acquitted of all charges I’ll sue YOU guys for damages and take even MORE of Tom’s money.”

Raising my brow, I leaned in a little closer to her. “Tom saved all your texts and voicemails. Every. Single. One. They’re tucked away, safe and sound, on the very phone you sent them to.”

If Tom hadn’t been paying such close attention, the highball glass she picked up and threw would have hit me right in the face. He’d jerked both of us to the side, and the glass shattered when it hit the wall. With me in front of him, he propelled both of us toward the door at top speed, slid the bolt and pushed me out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him in the midst of the sound of more shattering glass and her screams of ‘get out, GET OUT’. We headed for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator, rushed back to our room, entered and locked our own door, both of us unsure as to whether we were pleased, frightened, or a bit of both.

I reached up under my sweater to pull out the phone, hitting the stop button to end the recording. Tom placed his hands on my shoulders, eyes on mine.

“Are you all right?”

Nodding, I felt my mouth twist into a half smile. “That went better than I expected, honestly.” I stood on my toes and planted a kiss on his left cheek. “Thanks for rescuing me from death by assorted beverage containers. How do you feel?”

His eyes shifted down and to the side, then returned to my face. “Relieved. Like I’ve gotten some closure, and that I’m no longer at her mercy. The fear, the anxiety in regard to my past actions becoming public…that’s subsided significantly. But there’s trepidation present, resulting from her expression of violence towards you, which I’m not quite sure how to handle.”

I slipped my phone into his pocket as I wrapped my arms around his torso. “She just realized she’s powerless, and she was NOT happy about it. Probably best to let it go and hope she finds a new hobby. Or a good therapist. Or Jesus. Something.”

“Maude, if that would have hit you…”

“It didn’t, though. I’m fine, you’re fine, and…that was over the top, wasn’t it? Was she aiming for me? Or you? Or the wall? Wow, I’m kinda freaked out now.”

He pulled me to his chest, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry. I knew her behavior as I experienced it was abnormal, and I shouldn’t have involved you.”

I leaned back, reaching up to caress his cheek. “You realize I knew too based on your description of your experience, yes? I’m glad I went with you. She would have spun that visit in the worst way possible, Tom, if the opportunity presented itself. Now she can’t, and I’m glad for that. As for the rest…we have a plan in place if she releases the videos, and we’ll follow through with it. She knows now that you’re no longer afraid of that happening, and that you’ll fight back, and I’m thinking maybe that will take all the fun out of it for her.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “I hope that’s the case, my love. Truly I do. And I’m not going to dwell on it, because allowing her to diminish our joy is akin to giving her precisely what she wants, and she’s stolen enough already. This shop’s doors are closed. Permanently.”

“That’s an excellent way to look at it, Mr. Eternal Optimist. The doors are closed and the shop’s in the rearview as we travel the road ahead of us into our future.”

He simply stared at me, a small smile upon his face, his eyes once again full of all those things that made me both weak in the knees and disgusted with my sappy-ass self all at once. I rolled my eyes.

“Man, you’ve gotta lay off that adorable shit. We’ve got three months to go until the wedding and when you look at me like that…I just want to say fuck it and go find a judge and do it, like, right now.” Next came the tears shining, ready to spill over. “No. Oh my god, not helping, Tom. NOT. HELPING.”

He laughed. “I’m not even sorry.”

“Color me thoroughly unsurprised.”

“I’d rather color your inner thighs with love bites.”

“That can be arranged.”

Less than an hour later, we were spooning, and I felt his breathing change as he slipped into sleep. I lay nestled against him, wide awake until near dawn, trying to force myself to stop thinking about Claudia. Her actions seemed, as I reviewed the evening’s events, to indicate she hadn’t quite…let go. Far from it, actually. I wondered what she actually wanted, after so much time had passed. Was it more money? Was it revenge? Was it still…Tom? Was it all three, perhaps? And then I found myself wondering how far someone who behaved as she had tonight was willing to go in order to get it. Whatever it was she wanted. And it shook me, so I sang our wedding song to myself in my head until I calmed down, finally dozing off reminding myself that things which were terribly frightening in the dead of night were often immediately vanquished as nonsense by the light of day.

[mikumanogi-blog]

2017-11-24 “What happened today” Kubo Shiori blog #29 [ENG]

Hello everyone, thank you for your continuous hard work today. I’m Nogizaka46’s 3rd generation member, 1st year high school student, 16-year-old Kubo Shiori. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

This year, I’ve finally been able to be reunited with my Uniqlo fleece. Thank you for keeping me warm today. I'll be in your care again this year.

 Without any further delay!

 November 19th, AGESTOCK, thank you very much!!

 I was surprised by the distance between us and the fans! It was really close wasn’t it! I’m so glad that I could see each and every person’s face〜

There was also a second and third floor. Thank you to those people as well. It was easier to spot the penlights from the people on the upper floors. I thought many times “AH! There’s a Kubo fan over there! I’m so glad!”

 Here’s the setlist!

Boku no Shoudou (full)

Seifuku no Mannequin

Dank Schoen

MC

Mirai no Kotae

Girls Rule

Hadashide Summer

Omoide First

MC

Inochi was Utsukushii

Oide Shampoo

Sanbanme no Kaze (Full)

 There were 10 different songs!! There were a lot of dance numbers and so I was sweating a lot. Recently, I’ve been feelings strongly about working more on my dance skills.

It’s all thanks to Boku no Shoudou. I want to change my atmosphere depending on the song. I want the atmosphere to change so much that you say, “What? Kubo-chan? Where?!!” (I don’t want you to lose sight of me though…) For this reason, I need to work hard to be the first person you spot no matter where I am.

I felt once again that ‘Live concerts are a lot fun’. Thank you so very much.

 Oh yeah, that’s right.

 Two days ago, I lost the remote control to my air conditioner. It was super cold. I haven’t seen it in 3 days… Honestly, where did it go, I said while looking for it. I found it a short while ago. I felt so relieved. “Hold up? I’ve read this somewhere before…” I though as a different kind of coldness came over me. (Please check out the 3rd generation blog updated on the 5th of November 2017)

(TL Note: apparently Yamashita Mizuki also lost the remote to her air conditioner. Link to the original Japanese blog is here https://blog.nogizaka46.com/third/2017/11/041937.php)

The other day I went to buy some secondhand clothing〜However when I arrived at the store, I wanted to shop at it seems that they were closed. I guess there are days like that aren’t there.

 I bought some really cute western clothing. I’m thinking about wearing them at the handshake events. I’m excited. Thanks to the day that Miona-san invited me to go out I’ve become more active. Hehehe. Miona-san’s photobook is released today! I haven’t seen it yet, but I really want to (´･_･`) and yet, on the day we were at Tokyo Dome, in the car she said, “I bought you a birthday present from when I was in the USA!!”

(´；ω；`)

I had to use a different emoji than my usual one. I was honestly so happy. Thank you very much. I’m looking forward to looking at “Kimi Rashisa”!! Congratulations on getting a photobook published!!

 Wakatsuki-san’s “Palette”

Shinuchi-san’s “Doko ni Iruno?”

Yoda-chan’s “Hinata no Ondo”

Matsumura-san’s “Igaitteiuka, Mae kara kawaii to Omotteta”

 These are all my beloved people’s precious books. Congratulations!!!!!

 A little while ago I cut my hair a little bit. Only just a little. I was so happy and excited. Thank you to everyone for reading such trivial information.

Beam.

I’ll be waiting for the request at the handshake event.

 I met with Himeka-san the other day. On the Radirer day. There’s was a lot I want to tell her, and I don’t think I forget to tell her anything. I’ve also been writing a lot of letters. I haven’t sent them yet though. Himeka-san. Congratulations on your graduation. Please continue to look after me! Himeka-san’s existence in my life will always continue to grow bigger and bigger. I love you.

 Please let me make some announcements.

·         November 30th BUBKA-sama

Riria, Mizuki and I talked together. I love interviews. I’m not very good at talking to people but when I do interviews, my feelings seem to pour out of my mouth without effort. However, there’s always so much I want to say, the feelings I want to convey are so strong and sometimes I’m unable to speak properly… I, I really want to honestly speak my feelings. I want to convey them to everyone.

My dream is a long interview. I also love photoshoots, but I like interviews to the same degree, and they are as precious to me as photoshoots. I’m thankful to always be able to talk about various things with everyone. And thank you to everyone that reads my magazines.

·         Nogizaka Bunko

Ogawa Yoko’s ‘Brahman’s burial’ I was surprised that I was able to be on the cover of a book. I am super happy. I never thought I would ever be this happy. I hope that I can reflect upon this happiness with everyone. Please make sure to check out the book.

 On top of that! The stream has finally started.

·         Nogizaka Rhythm Festival

Did everyone download it yet? I’ve played it many times already! I’ve challenged “Yubi Bouenkyou” I very happy that I cleared the song, thank you very much!! But it seems that I’m not good at it… I know the difficulties of rhythm games (´･_･`) but it’s still fun!!! Even though it’s the same song, once you get used to the map you can play while watching the live concert in the background and you can do it many times. It’s very fun so please make sure to check it out everyone!

 This suddenly came to my mind. Once January comes around it’ll be time for a fresh start to the year. Many things will begin again! Things like that will happen, but I don’t feel like I’ll be doing that in 2018. I wrote this before but it’s important to act when the opportunity arises, but I want to be someone that acts before it arrives. After all, I don’t want to lose to myself. I’ve recently finally come to accept this fact. I hate losing. I don’t think the fact that I hate losing is a bad thing. I first have to accept that part of myself.

2018. Heading toward next year, my dream, I’m carefully re-thinking my goals. The time to start is now.

Blanklyyyy.

I’ve come to realize that we have a lot of things in common, like the way we think, we’ve been talking about various things.

Congratulations on being cast in the drama version of Mob Psycho 100!!!! I haven’t read the source material but before the first episode airs, I think I want to read it ☺︎

Since the time we did Principle, I’ve loved Yoda’s acting ability. She’s so cool. When Yoda is acting, she’s like a hero. I’m looking forward to her drama　☺︎　

This may be sudden but recently I feel like I’ve been forgetful. I forget things and have to go back home for them and when I finally find it, I realize that I forgot something else… but I can’t remember where it is… I’ve been having this problem constantly recently (´･_･`) I need to pull myself together.

 Oh.

Huh, in the blink of an eye it’s already December… Why does the year go by so fast? It really does feel like a blink of an eye. There’s still a month isn’t there!!

How will you spend this time? What will you do? It’s not an exaggeration to say that the month hangs on those decisions. I don’t want to waste even a second of it.

 I’m clumsy. I’ll say it many times. I’m clumsy. Therefore, I can’t try and be like everyone else. I can’t be impatient when I see someone else do it, I can’t compare myself to someone else. I need to do my best in my own way. A clumsy way of doing my best. I’d be glad if you were to go easy on me.

 In order to meet your expectation, please expect me to do it my way, but with all my strength. Everyday I’ll keep griding away, doing my best.

2 times in a row it’s Yoshida Ayano Christie. Excuse me for being on your shoulder. Ayano-cahn sidled up to me to take this picture on top of that when our eyes met on stage, she winked at me. As expected, I wonder how long Ayano-chan’s wink popularity will continue. Please stay tuned.

 The other day I received a call from my mother. “Miyagi received it’s first snow fall.” It’s finally started to snow in the Tohoku region. Next year at this time, this is also going to be the expected weather. It’s not that obvious right now though. When I thought about this, right now each and every moment is being carved into my memory. I want to have a new day every day. I want to be able to realize this before I take it for granted. If I was asked how precious each day was to me I’d say it was like an asset. The reason that I live. The wide world. The long periods. Within all of that the fact that I’m able to meet everyone is that asset. Once again, please continue to look after me.

 I’ll write again soon.

Kubo Shiori.

 Right now, the person in front of you just asked, “are you ok?”

How would you respond? “I’m okay.” Or “please help me.”

When I’m given this sort of question I often respond in my own way. However, I can’t find a suitable answer to this question.

‘I’m okay’

In this case you’re thinking about the other party.

‘Please help me’

In this case you’re thinking about yourself.

If you put it like that most people would probably choose the former. However, recently I’ve thought about something tremendous. To take care of yourself. Take care of yourself more. Be nice and take care of yourself. It’s completely different.

Originally, I couldn’t come to like myself. In anything. However, I’ve decided to take care of myself. When you look in the mirror you can hear the voice from you heart, when I do that the me on the other side is saying, “please help me” I feel like that’s what it’s pleading. Nevertheless, this isn’t a dark conversation. That’s why I can’t choose an answer. Rather, neither is the correct answer.

 I need to take care of myself. You need to take care of yourself. If you do that when you hear the words “are you ok” you’ll believe your own answer.

 You are also all precious to me.

https://blog.nogizaka46.com/third/2017/11/041937.php

[dornishsphinx]

twenty-two meetings that never happened (4/22)

4. THE EMPRESS 

The first hint she picked up on that this really wasn’t going to be like any of her other jobs had been when the maid who took her jacket, a woman as exquisitely beautiful as everything else in these rooms, had brought her the most expensive looking tea set she’d ever been trusted to handle unsupervised, bowed, and slipped off noiselessly. 

She shifted, the sound uncomfortably loud even here, in what might very well have been the grandest, classiest room in which she’d ever had reason to sit - though Kei would be affronted by that thought, if she were ever to bring it up to him. Still, even he might have deemed the mansion acceptable enough, if not the family who owned it. His feelings on that point were crystal-clear. 

He’d first mentioned the name “Kirijo” to her over lunch in a Nanjo-owned restaurant in Sumaru City (they’d ended up there since it meant the high-end cuisine was gratis, neatly allowing for a compromise between Kei’s frankly ludicrous standards and her budget.) Between bites of lobster thermidor, Kei had mentioned that the Kirijo were looking for someone to photograph the CEO’s granddaughter, and that he’d brought up her name - if she was interested in helping him get an in on the company. 

Kirijo, he’d gone on to insist, wasn’t the oldest name on the block and could not and would never be more impactful than Nanjo. Nonetheless, they’d come up on his radar thanks to the CEO’s newfound interests. After some digging, Kei - who among them was the best equipped to handle corporate-level espionage, even that which tinged on the mystical - had uncovered records on some object which had entranced the Kirijo patriarch and reportedly driven him to power-crazed madness. What was clear, at least according to Kei, was that they were either far too close to contacting Philemon or, failing that, to bringing about the end-times. 

Yukino didn’t particularly feel like going through a third doomsday scenario, but hadn’t really needed such an exorbitant incentive to take the job. The Kirijo, no matter if they were going to destroy everything, paid better than Kismet Publishing ever had. 

On that thought, the ballroom-style double doors across from her swung open and a gaggle of maids came through en masse, swarming away like a flock of pigeons from the tall man at the centre of the group. Slightly behind him was a girl, tiny and solemn. Presumably the latter was Mitsuru Kirijo, who she was here to photograph. She was less sure of the man. Her father? A bodyguard? Maybe it was even a valet (though she never bothered to pay attention to Kei’s exacting explanations as to the difference between one of those and a butler.) 

They came striding over to her, though she noticed the man shortening his strides to let the girl keep up. He rose a few places in her estimation. 

“Yukino Mayuzumi?” he asked. 

“That’s me." 

"I’m Takeharu Kirijo. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” So, it was the girl’s father then - and more pressingly, the son and heir to Kouetsu Kirijo. She stood up, unsure whether to bow or shake hands. You never knew with these international jet-setter types, and Kirijo’s house was decorated in a western style. 

He bowed. Decision made, she mirrored the gesture. Kirijo waited for her to rise before introducing his young companion: “This is my daughter, Mitsuru." 

"Enchantée,” said the girl, politely bowing in turn. 

Yukino must have looked dumbfounded, because Kirijo smiled proudly. 

“Mitsuru has been learning French from her tutor." 

French? She barely spoke English, let alone some other western language. Why hadn’t they sent Eriko along with her? She’d lived in Paris, for God’s sake, she would have been perfect in these surroundings - well, unless they somehow got her onto the subject of demonology. She’d never been great at hiding her weirdness about mystic bullshit and considering the Kirijo family’s dealings… 

Actually, maybe it was good she’d been sent alone. The thought calmed her down, and she smiled at the girl, trying to exude a friendly air. 

"Hello, Mitsuru-san,” she said, deciding to go a little politer than she usually would for a kid of her age - besides, kids liked being treated as if they were competent individuals, she’d found, on the few occasions she’d had to deal with them in previous photoshoots. “I’m here to take some photographs of you, if that’s fine?" 

Mitsuru inclined her head graciously. "Of course,” she said. “I put myself into your care." 

She spoke in such a polite way, it put Yukino ill at ease. Was this how Kei had sounded as a kid? When she’d been the same age, she didn’t think she’d ever broken out the perfectly proper grammar. 

Yukino was quickly shepherded through the mansion to the room they wanted to show off in the photo. She’d thought their waiting rooms were nice, but her breath was taken away at the place they took her: it was spacious, with far-apart walls and a frankly-unnecessarily high ceiling; but more than that, everything in it was so impressively detailed and expensive-looking that she was scared to move in case she accidentally displaced swirls of gold paint, or something. 

Kirijo gestured towards a great, oaken armchair. "We were thinking maybe here, if that’s suitable?" 

"Yes, this should work,” she said, forcing herself to look straight at him instead of swivelling her head around and gawping like a tourist. “Though Mitsuru-san will appear rather small in comparison, if that’s all right with you?" 

For a moment, she wondered if he could pull out a phone and have an exact replica in miniature made for the express purposes of the photoshoot. He probably could. Her question wasn’t to be answered though, as he just nodded.  

"That should be fine. Now, I’m afraid I do have a meeting I have to get to - business, you understand. I leave the rest in your hands. If you require anything at all, please, just ask Saikawa-san." 

One of the maids, an older woman, bowed. Kirijo, sending a final smile over to his daughter, left the room. And now she was alone with her subject - or as alone as she could get with a dozen inconspicuous but clearly curious maids lining the walls. 

Still feeling a bit overwhelmed, Yukino set to work trying to find the perfect angle. She walked around the room, examining the way the light and shadows fell. It was morning, and thanks to a set of windows built high into the east-facing wall, she had natural sunlight to work with - and plenty of it too; it poured into the room, making the silver-glazed ornaments and varnished floorboards gleam. Perfect conditions, really. 

Mitsuru was quiet during her examinations, standing like a tiny, painted statue: her back was straight and her hands were clasped loosely in front of her in a pose that would have fit a noblewoman from days long past. Her gaze followed Yukino around the room. In some sudden burst of paranoia, the thought popped into Yukino’s head that she was making sure she wasn’t going to steal anything. She brushed the thought off immediately. She was here on a job. They were hardly looking for a reason to throw her out. 

"Mitsuru-san? Can you come over here?" 

"Of course,” said Mitsuru. Daintily, she settled herself into the chair. What she’d told Kirijo was even more true than she’d been expecting: with her little white dress, porcelain-pale skin and ringlets that gleamed almost red in the sun, she looked like more like an bisque doll than a person, the kind that were never taken out their boxes for fear of breakage or devaluation. 

Yukino directed her to move her head slightly back, so the tresses would fall in a more pleasing way, then to tilt it slightly to the side so so the lighting would fall in a more slanted angle across her cheeks and neck. Mitsuru complied, but there was still something off, something she couldn’t quite get right. 

“Mitsuru-san, do you mind if I-” Mitsuru nodded, allowing Yukino to delicately place a hand on her head and move it slightly to the side. For a moment, she hyper-focused on her own hand. If I was still like how I was back then, they’d not have let me in here at all, let alone near the second-in-line to the company. 

“Is this chair all right, Mayuzumi-san?” Yukino jerked her head up, to see Mitsuru looking at her, her previously poised, almost blank face giving way to something like concern. 

“Huh?" 

"I suggested this room to father, but I don’t know a lot about photography. If it won’t work, I’m quite happy for this to move elsewhere." 

She was good at hiding it - a lot better than many kids her age - but there was something about the way she asked it that made Yukino suspect she really didn’t want to move. And Yukino thought she knew why. She glanced up at the walls once more. This room had been designed around a line of portraits, placed just out of the reach of the sun’s rays so they wouldn’t get damaged. Each pictured a woman sitting in a painted replica of this very room, each capturing a generation with different fashions, hairstyles and even room decor. The newest, one of a stunningly beautiful woman with a coy smile, looked very much like an older version of the girl in front of her. 

She looked back down at Mitsuru, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her the entire time. "It’s my job to make it work,” she told her. 

Mitsuru let out a tiny noise of satisfaction that Yukino suspected she wasn’t supposed to have noticed. She laughed, under her breath - whatever had happened to the kind of upper-class brat she’d always been told about, the ones who used tantrums to get what they wanted? Mitsuru must have heard her, because she went bright red and automatically ducked her head. When she peeked back up again, Yukino smiled at her. Mitsuru responded with her own small, appreciative one. 

Well, if her wish was Yukino’s command, she had to see about fulfilling it. Yukino closed her eyes, and took a few moments to re-visualise the room and the way the light streamed into it. She considered her options. It would mean sacrificing the deeper shadows she’d been planning on having around the girl’s face, but she could try to put the subject’s entire body at a slight angle towards the sunlight. It was worth a shot, if nothing else. She told Mitsuru what to do, and when she shifted, Yukino all but snapped her fingers in triumph. There it was. 

After that, it was a simple matter of snapping the photos. The little Kirijo made for a fine subject, at once elegant and capable of following Yukino’s instructions to the letter. 

“That should do it,” she said, after taking pretty much every shot she could. “Well done, Mitsuru-san." 

"No. Thank you, Mayuzumi-san,” she responded, with a little bob of a bow. Rising from the chair, she glanced over to the portraits on the wall and then turned her attention back to Yukino, coming closer to her. “Truly,” she said in a low, hesitant voice, “I have no brothers, and Father has told me he never wants to get married again, no matter what Grandfather says, so it looks like my official portrait is going to be with father’s and grandfather’s, not with mother’s. So, thank you accommodating my request." 

Yukino felt the strongest urge to ruffle the kid’s hair, but she fought the urge. Instead, she lightly touched her shoulder and, as quietly as she had, murmured: "Like I said, Mitsuru-san. It was no problem.” Mitsuru nodded, minutely, and returned to a normal volume. “Father ought to be back shortly. I shall wait with you until he arrives. Shall we have some tea together?” 

Right. The middle Kirijo. The reason Kei had brought up this in the first place. Yukino gritted her teeth in determination and smiled widely.

"Lead the way, Mitsuru-san.”

[immija]

MY STORY: GOODBYE 2018

Dear 2018,

It has been another hella rollercoaster and definitely one of the most eventful years of my life. It gave me meaningful experiences and realizations that led me to where I am right now.

Last year, I prayed for a lot of things. I prayed for the things I aimed to finish, start and acquire. I’ve also used a word instrument (that resonated me) to help me obtain my goals. “Make Things Happen,” says me in my little space condo in Makati.

I’ve had memorable activities in the first quarters of 2018. A reunion with my like-minded friends, a 3-day celebration of my 25th birthday, a corporate executive ball, an engagement party, an adventurous hike to Mount Pinatubo, an e-commerce launch, a merchandising photoshoot, and those random out and about. After having a taste of the many sides of work demands, social obligations, love, relationships, there came a point where I had to make a decision. Let alone remembering to pay my rent, house bills and ensuring my toiletries in-stocked.

The responsibilities of the adult life and the constant tension I navigate to cope up with this harsh reality had left me with depression and anxiety. It’s like looking at a puzzle and finding where that missing piece could be. It’s like which path is going to be more valuable for me to follow? From where I am, should I stay or should I go?

I have to admit though, that I had spent much time worrying, praying and weighing things around me. Anxious about what life awaits me, I’d finally convinced myself to go in exchange for a proposal made by my parents. For the second time around, I left my managerial job in the corporate world, vacated my things at the condo, and bid my farewell with my friends. My desires in life brought me the courage to pursue the path I was making.

As I enter the mid-quarter of 2018, I must say that I’m sailing at full throttle. It was crazy, really. The usual 5-day work week became 6 days, then it became 7 days until relaxation for me was no longer essential. In spite of that, starting my own business was a spiritual awakening. It gave me that spiritual power for greater knowledge and faith. I was confined by a faculty of imagination and that my mind was stimulated only by the purely mental processes of enthusiasm and desire. Despite my absence in fun activities and fancy events, I found out what was more important to me. That's being able to follow my own interests, write my own corporate mission statement,  exhibit my talent as a fashion designer and render my skills as an entrepreneur.

But life has a funny way of testing you. Sometimes, no matter how you plan, things will not go the way you want it to. The more I want to sail, the more I am forced to re-route in another direction.  

There's no such thing as perfect parents nor perfect children because if there is, I wouldn't be where I am right now. Although, I believe that in a family, there are formations where the feelings and needs of all family members must be taken into consideration. Unfortunately, it didn't apply in the household. You either do their way and the "wrong way". They will jab you with their narcissistic and controlling nature and for this matter, I was forced to leave before a toxic home environment could severely destroy my whole being. I left home feeling unworthy and obligated. I left home wondering if my departure would bring them tranquility. I left home bombarded with all sorts of stress. But when I also left, I carried out my utmost goal. All I know is I just can't stop.

I prepared myself and began sailing again. However, the storm didn't stop till the last quarter. Around 3 am on October 3, Mark and I rushed our little Ravi at a 24/7 vet shop in Taguig. Our hearts were shattered when she passed away with a parvovirus at 7 am.

On that same week, my lessor was also evicting me due to her troubled marriage with her husband.

It's like I'm feeling all feelings at once. The amount of responsibility, the pressure of being independent, the weight of a faulty relationship, the stress at work, the paranoia of being alone at night, the lack of rest, and my sudden loss for Ravi had made me completely devastated. I tried to compare my situation with others just to measure my level of behavior yet if you have bigger things ahead of you like a business, you have no choice but to deal with the situation.

Despite a series of unfortunate events that occurred to me, I'm glad I was able to accomplish a lot of things- the business was legally put up, clients came in, I live in a nicer 2-story apartment, got an SUV car, bought my own home appliances, opened a passbook, relived my blog, you know I didn't get sick, didn't get pregnant and what not.

The moral lesson is everyone has their own version of high points and low points and who is going through better or worse is not really the point. It's choosing not to quit and be your best self tomorrow. As for me, I try to learn from my mistakes, recognize my failures as medals and see the silver lining amid the chaos. I learned to draw a clearer line for some and realized that we can hardly ever be all things for all people.

For 2019, I wired to thrive. Everything has just begun. 

I pray for those people who helped me obtain my goals and remained to be my solid support. I pray for my business to prosper. I pray for the strength and wisdom to surpass every challenge. 

Graham Bell once said, "When one door closes, another opens". Thank you, 2018! Thank for making me as stronger as steel! This is me, Mija Maravilla. Wired to thrive!

[sentrava]

Ladies Who Launch: Miruna, Ana, Monique & Kotryna of Sindroms Magazine

Sindroms Magazine launched in 2017 with their first issue, “Red Sindrom.” The magazine won immediate acclaim for its high quality photo spreads, creative styling and unique editorials (Editor’s disclosure: I wrote an article for the first issue). But what goes on behind the scenes of an independent magazine is just as interesting as what ends up in the pages.

We spoke with founder and Creative Director Miruna Sorescu, founder and Business Development Manager Teodorel, Editor-in-Chief Monique Schröder and Communications Manger Kotryna Abaraviciute to find out about the whole process.

Here’s what the Sindroms team has to say about publishing an independent magazine and what it’s like to work on a passion project:

When did you launch Sindroms? Tell us about the inspiration and to lead-up to that.

Miruna: We launched our first issue in the summer of 2017. It was a long process leading up to our launch. Not necessarily in terms of actually making the magazine, but putting together the team and finding all the contributors, as well as figuring out all the technicalities of starting a business.

The idea came up in 2016, when Kotryna and I were just graduating, and decided to make the dream of having our own magazine come true. It was something that just seemed very exciting to us because we could combine our backgrounds and work in more than one field. We didn’t know much about what it would take, but since there is so much competition, we knew we needed a unique idea.

We were working a lot with color in our recent projects, plus we are color enthusiasts still adjusting to the Scandi colour palette (uhm, black and white much?). The idea just struck me: what if we made a magazine that obsesses over a single color in each issue? We loved the idea, we pitched it around to friends and acquaintances and got a great reaction. Plus the occasional: “So you’re making a magazine about color in Scandinavia?”

    Monique and I met during my internship at Kinfolk. Ana and I were already close friends as well as working together. When we joined up, things started getting a bit more real; we defined our vision, found contributors, and the magazine started to take shape.

We were also joined by Ausra Babiedaite, who was one of the first contributors to submit an editorial. She was a perfect match for Sindroms in terms of aesthetics. She became our Art Director for the first issue. It was very much our own vision, with us doing the editorials in-house as well as Monique writing a lot of the content herself.

    Why color? What is it about color that inspires you? What do you think it is about color that inspires others?

Miruna: Color plays a huge role in our lives because everyone is affected by it. That’s why we decided to structure Sindroms on feelings and moods evoked by each color. It’s so inspiring to see how a certain color can influence your mood. You can then use that knowledge to spark different reactions in your audience.

Monique: Exactly! We really wanted to create a place where we touch upon the not-so-pretty sides of a color as well as what’s beautiful. With the red issue, we could have easily just talked about love and passion but we also wanted to showcase that anger is also part of the red journey. The same goes for yellow: anxiety or cowardice are equally important as happiness or optimism.

      How do you want a reader to feel when they have an unread copy of Sindroms in front of him/her? How do you want him/her to feel after reading it?

Monique: I secretly wish I could be there every time someone opens a new issue of Sindroms. Colors are so personal, there are always aspects that I re-discover or hadn’t thought of before when I talk to someone new about colors. I hope the reader is surprised by how one color has so much to offer, whether positive or negative. Hopefully that will make the reader pick up the magazine over and over again.

Miruna: I’d like people to feel what I feel when discovering a beautiful new publication or just finding a brand new issue from my favourite ones: excited to touch it and to discover what’s inside. Maybe even smell it (or is that just me?). After reading it, I hope that they can’t “unsee” that color, and it follows them everywhere for a while.

    Does Sindroms fit within the Scandinavian aesthetic? Why or why not?

Miruna: It does and it doesn’t. You could say it doesn’t because it’s so obsessively colorful, and that’s not something Scandinavia is particularly famous for. The Scandi color palette is definitely more focused on grey, black and white. You instantly notice this when moving here from a country where color is more easily found and more abundantly used; I personally did, and while I adapted to it so much and changed my style because of it, I did feel this need to bring color in my life here. This played a big part in the inspiration of creating Sindroms, I think.

And it goes beyond the print publication. We try to bring color and this element of monochrome states of mind also through our events in Copenhagen. On the other hand, it does fit within the Scandi aesthetic in terms of visual style. While we are very colorful, we also try to cultivate a quite conceptual and minimalist aesthetic, which has definitely been very influenced by Scandinavia’s design scene.

Monique: Funny that you’re asking! We actually receive this question a lot and it’s so difficult to answer. Before we started, I only noticed all the muted colors; whereas now I’ve started noticing so much color around us. I don’t know if that’s because there has been an increasing color splash recently or if my mind is wired for colors now.

    Given that print is known to be having a tough time on the market right now, what was the initial reaction from people when you told them you were printing a magazine?

Miruna:  It’s true, we had to brush off a few “but everyone knows print is dying” reactions, but we weren’t discouraged by those because we realized they came from people that were not that familiar with the independent publishing market. We believe the statement is partially true: some print may be dying, but other print is thriving. Of course some print publications are suffering – newspapers, mainstream magazines that simply aggregate news or trends – we already have all this content conveniently available online, for free. But indie publishing tells a different story. This market is filled with creative people that are reinventing print, producing beautifully-designed, exciting publications.

Monique: It’s clear that people still love print but they also laugh it off very quickly when I tell them that I have one foot in the printing biz now. I think this two-faced reaction is very interesting and it could go either way. I’m excited to see how the generation that has always been immersed in the digital sphere feels about print. Like Miruna mentioned, print objects have so much more to offer and can even become design objects.

Kotryna: I would say people that were fans of indie publications or were familiar with this industry were really supportive and encouraged us to follow our dream of having a print magazine. But as mentioned, we had a couple of those “print is dying” moments. I think that diving deeper, seeing all the amazing indie mags that are making it and of course having our strong vision made us stick to our goal and finally helped us make it happen.

Ana: In order to approach the print mag industry you strongly need to believe in what it offers compared to digital. All four of us see a higher value in having a print issue rather than creating a digital version. When you also consider the concept of colors and sensuality, print was natural. 


    Explain the production process for Sindroms – where is the paper sourced, where is it printed, bound, etc? Were these vendors hard to find?

Miruna: We work with a printer based in Romania. That’s where Ana and I are from, so it is quite easy for us to visit them when needed and be closely involved in the process. They have a wide variety of paper and materials, and have the patience to do a lot of testing with us prior to printing. This is very important for us – especially since Sindroms is about color – so we are over-the-top picky about the way the colors come out on paper.

    How did it feel to launch your first issue?

Monique: This sounds so cliché but we felt ALL the feelings.The entire rainbow back and forth and back again. It’s really difficult to describe but there was definitely anxiety, overwhelming joy and pride in the mix. I remember seeing Sindroms for the first time so clearly. It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

Miruna: It felt chaotic and overwhelming, but exciting at the same time. Kind of like a positive panic attack, if that makes any sense. It was definitely weird to finally have this magazine in our hands and share it with other people as well, putting it out there in the world and seeing that people liked it and were actually buying it, and not just our friends.

Kotryna: I agree. I felt all the feelings we talk about in our publication. Passion while creating it, love at first sight when I first opened Red Sindrom, anger when something didn’t work out.

Ana: We worked in house on the first issue because we were really picky but also because we wanted to make sure our breakthrough issue was transmitting the exact message we planned for. Looking at the intense working rhythm from the few weeks before the event, the launch itself came as a tornado of happiness.

    Tell us about your upcoming issue! What was the most difficult, and what was the most fun about producing it?

Ana: The most fun was every photoshoot we had for this issue! We worked with so many talented artists for this issue that seeing their creativity into action and working together not only inspired us further, but brought a lot of fun on set as well.

Monique: Because Sindroms is our creative venture after business hours, finding the right balance of a productive but also fun process will always be challenging.

Kotryna: I agree with Monique, finding the balance and making that hard work enjoyable can be tricky sometimes. We are still in the process of learning it, but it is getting better and better. When I think about the most fun times, I firstly remember our “pre-printing” meetings, where we overview all the content, do the final touches and make it ready for print. Of course, the minute when I have it in my hands, that “we did it” moment is something wonderful. As for challenges, it was so hard for me to come up with emotions associated with yellow. I had no idea how yellow feels. After the research and our brainstorm sessions, I was surprised at how many angles on yellow we came up with.

Miruna: This issue is special to me because we managed to go a level up from the red issue. I personally can’t wait to see if our readers will recognize the progress in the same way we do. The yellow issue is thicker, has a reinterpreted cover, and has many more contributors making it more complex.

      Why did you choose to do a Kickstarter? Tell us what that process has been like so far

Ana: Kickstarter for us was a way to start including our community while also expanding it. We saw it as a new challenge in order to be able to take Sindroms to the next level in terms of quantity, as well as in terms of finding new creatives to work with.

Miruna: Exactly, and it was also a great way to get support from our readers and get pre-orders for the yellow issue so that we can make it happen. Printing the magazine is a big financial effort, one that we took upon ourselves for the first issue. While the magazine is out there in stores around the world, the process of getting paid for sales can be very lengthy, and usually doesn’t happen until a new issue is out. So it was really wonderful to be able to gather the support we needed in order to cover our printing costs upfront.

    What advice would you give others wanting to start out in the publishing industry?

Ana: Come from an authentic place, translate your passion into your project, find your own space, build a concept around it, and communicate the initial steps meant to guide your audience.

Monique: Don’t expect to be rich [laughs]! No, but it’s true. If you go into this industry, be passionate about it and have a clear purpose in mind.

Kotryna: Always remember your primary vision and mission. It is very easy to lose it while you are trying to figure out the ways to stay on the market and make some money.

Miruna: Make sure you have an idea that they are passionate about, and be ready to dedicate your life to it. The competition is high, there are dozens of new magazines coming out every month. Ask for advice from others that are doing similar things.

    Want to get the next issue of Sindroms for yourself? Pre-order by donating to their Kickstarter.There are great rewards, such as their Monochrome Dinner (an entirely yellow dining experience!), a curated weekend of color, and the chance to help them decide on next issue’s color!

Ladies Who Launch: Miruna, Ana, Monique & Kotryna of Sindroms Magazine published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS