#HOW DID THE EDITOR GET WORSE IN MY ABSENCE...

[koinotame]

your (househusband) roommate, ajax

word count: 1.5K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, childe gets called your house husband but you’re not actually married, generally gross stuff (he sniffs your used shirt), it's implied of childe scares away someone else

a/n: this is a repost (slightly edited)! i lost the original post w/ the basic idea but essentially this is a side au of sagau/self aware genshin where the characters (in this case childe) find their way into your world, but in the process you lose all memories about genshin. i'll be reposting all of the series, but it's also on ao3! part two is here!

when you first learned who your roommate would be, you were exasperated. you’d heard about him before, and you were well aware that he's amassed a reputation of being a trouble maker. you had no interest in getting into trouble, especially not during your first year.

...so you were pretty pleasantly surprised when he turned out to be a total sweetheart.

you’re reminded of that when you enter the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes and yawning. the smell of pancakes wafts through the air, and you can’t even get out a small 'good morning' before ajax is grinning at you and sliding you some pancakes. "don’t wait for me and eat up, okay? I put plenty of love into them, so they should taste great."

you ignore his banter (insisting on waiting for him is a lost battle, you’ve learned) and take a bite. you don’t finish chewing before you sleepily nod.

he laughs good-naturedly. "I’m glad, I’m glad. do you want more?" another drowsy nod has him piling most of the remaining pancakes onto your plate.

he continues chatting with you while you eat and he finishes the batch, though he does most of the talking. as usual, he doesn’t seem to mind your silence too much. once he’s done, he turns the fire off and props his elbow on the counter to stare at you. you don't pay him any mind.

he slides the platter to you the second you peek at it. after having eaten well over two servings you’re not really interested in more though, so you shake your head. "I'm full. aren’t you going to eat any?"

he beams. "aww, were you thinking about me? don’t worry, I already ate." you’re almost certain he didn’t. avoiding the judgemental look that crosses your eyes at his response, he laughs in a way that’d be awkward if it was anyone else. "I’ll put the rest in a tupper then, okay? have them whenever."

he’s taking your plate and putting it in the sink before you can even stand to move it to the dishwasher. you sigh and stick out your tongue at him when he turns to you. "you know you really don’t have to go out of your way do all of this."

he smiles at you. "why not? I enjoy cooking, and you can be my taste-tester." the amounts he feeds you go well beyond that, and he's avoiding the rest of your question, but okay. you should've gotten the message—that it's futile to ask him this kind of question—by now.

while you you face plant into the couch to avoid thinking about anything else, ajax stays in the kitchen, cleaning up and humming some lullaby as he washes the pan and plates. it’s too early to think on this saturday morning. the cushion feels nice and soft against your cheek and you can’t help but burrow yourself further into the pillows.

wait.

you lift your head up, peeking your head out behind the back of the couch.

"the apron is cute."

he nearly drops the pan.

it’s not often that you bring over friends, so ajax insists on cleaning beforehand and serving your group snacks much like a mother hen would throughout their stay.

their two, maybe three if you're pushing it, hour stay. all you’re going to is chat, it’s not like they’re going to be staying overnight or anything.

you sigh but let him do what he wants.

some cookies are laid out by the time they arrive, and he’s hovering around pretty much indefinitely to serve tea or juice.

it’s cute, in a way, but your friends’ teasing is not.

"you know, he’s kind of like your house husband, isn’t he?" your friend comments, leaning over and biting into a powdery cookie.

you try to ignore the way ajax beams. you try to ignore the way he cheers to himself even harder.

"not really..." your weak attempts at rebutting their words make your friends laugh.

the rest of the session goes by normally; you talk about the kinds of things you’d regularly talk about with friends. someone in your group recently received a promotion, and somebody else got fired. somebody gained a boyfriend, another realised she didn’t have the time or energy for relationships not too long ago.

the longer the conversation goes on, the more the chatter becomes background noise as the you retreat to your own world. the drink in your hands gets lukewarm long before you finish it despite your frequent sipping.

when they finally leave, you feel more relieved than you should.

you see them off with a smile, but your head is pounding by the time you sit back down and your ears can finally rest. now that you’re (mostly, ajax is always just kind of there) alone, you can finally have some peace and quiet and relax.

or that’s what you think until ajax leans over the couch, head hovering above yours. "now that they’re gone… would you prefer dinner, a bath, or me?"

you stare at him. he doesn’t move, clearly eager for your answer. eventually, you sigh and gently push his face away. "dinner would be nice."

he laughs, something warm and domestic dancing in his cold eyes. "of course! it’ll be ready soon."

he presses a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving.

you whine, but the space he touched feels tingly even against your own hand.

"ajax."

he drops your wallet, not even attempting to take back the couple hundred bills peeking out. his response is nonchalant, even at his supposed surprise at having been caught by you. "ahh, I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon. look at what I found!"

you stare. at him. at what he’s holding. at your wallet on the floor.

you’re certain you did not have that many hundred bills. you’re going to cry if you find him trying to stuff his money into your wallet again.

"you mentioned liking this, right? I was out earlier and I thought I could get it for you. you know, as a sign of goodwill and all, for being such a great roommate."

a couple months ago, you would have been perplexed. he insists on doing all of the chores and most of the cooking, and he pays most of the bills. is the 'great roommate' status because you’re quiet and don’t host loud parties, or…? you don’t question it anymore at this point.

"ajax."

a couple months ago, he might’ve gotten unnerved by your silence. instead, he pushes it into your hands, a wide grin on face, ruffles your hair and saunters out.

you have yet to find his wallet. despite that, all the cash (and then some) that you’d left on his bedside table or bed has always managed to find a way back to your wallet, so there would probably be little point anyway.

"ah, that reminds me!" he peeks back into your room a couple minutes later. "what would you like for dinner?" the nerve of him to ask this right after he calls you a great roommate…

"maybe some soup?" you say instead.

he smiles, bows, and takes his leave. the apron you called cute a few weeks ago is already fixed onto him.

you sigh, sliding the bills in properly.

wait a second. is that a credit card…?

you were expecting many things when you finally caught him, but him sniffing only your shirt—out of all your available laundry—wasn’t one of them.

"…what are you doing?"

you have never seen him jerk his head as quickly, nor have you ever seen him so red. or speechless.

you both stand there in silence for a few seconds before he blinks rapidly and his breathing becomes ragged. "it’s not—I—it’s not what you think, I swear—"

"okay, whatever." you wave him off. somehow, this doesn’t alarm you as much as it should. "I don’t care what you were doing, don’t do it again."

he nods quickly, considerably less composed than he usually is, and shoves your shirt back into the basket briskly. "also… can you stop leaving your stuff in my wardrobe. I know you know the difference."

"ah, that was…" he’s clearly at a loss for words, not sure how to justify himself after having been caught committing not only one transgression, but two.

you set the clothes of his you were bringing to him down, tempted to just throw them at him.

you swallow your nerves, almost nervously meeting his eyes. "look, I don’t really care, but can you at least leave me stuff like your jacket or sweater? your shirts aren’t really my style."

his breathing hitches again but he gives no response otherwise, so you shake your head and turn to leave. the laundromat room is thankfully empty save for the two of you, something you’re glad for.

as you pass through the door, it occurs to you that the guy who’d been smoking in here hasn’t shown up in a while. now that you think about it, that was the reason ajax had offered to take over laundry duty too...

oh well, it’s of no concern to you, you think to yourself as you make the journey back to your room.

[cto10121]

Midnight Sun Part 2!!! Possibly my favorite section; I could not put it down, especially the rescue part. I did have Des Notes, though:

“It wasn’t really a difficult ask.” Nope, no way a vampire from 1901 would say this 2020s slang in 2006. Don’t slip up, Meyer!!! Or get better editors!!!

Alice introducing herself to Edward by hugging him and calling him brother and Edward going like “Yep, legit” will never not be great

Edward lying in bed and nearly giving Bella a heart attack with his sluttishness is almost worse in his POV, omg. How the fuck does that happen

Edward reading Tooth and Claw just because Bella recommended it. Remind me again why some people don’t like Edward?

Wait—Edward describes Bella’s scent as “lavender” or “freesia.” One of Bella’s favorite scents is lavender, as well as clean laundry. And she blushed when she looked at Edward, clearly thinking about his scent. Could Edward’s scent actually…be similar to Bella’s? Is that why her scent affects him so powerfully? Holy shit.

Edward “It was enlightening and alluring to watch her in her element” (Bella *eating Cheerios*) 🤝 Romeo “See how she leans her cheek upon her hand” (Juliet: *leaning her cheek on her hand*)

“Bella had gone to the other room to calm her mother. And then the vision had overtaken Alice.” Nice way to cover up that little plot hole, very enterprising

“The image of myself astride the sleek black motorcycle was so appealing that for a second I ignored her” 🤣🤣🤣🤣 🤣🤣🤣🤣 It’s giving Terminator. Love it. Also, what a great parallel to Bella’s motorcycle adventures

Very ambivalent about the highway scene. Otoh, it’s interesting and clever and detailed how the Cullens worked together. Otoh, it’s over the top at places! Like why did they flip the car into upcoming traffic????? Why did they even have to switch cars to begin with????? Meyer really should avoid full-length action scenes (I did like the Victoria fight in Eclipse, though)

Ngl, the James hunt is probably better than in Twilight, if just because Edward is at the front of the action. Still amazing how James slipped away from them

“Bella’s blood was the opposite of pain. It erased every burn I’d ever suffered. And it was so much more than just the absence of pain. It was satisfaction, it was bliss. I felt suffused with a strange kind of joy—a joy of the body alone. I was healed and alive, every nerve ending thrumming with contentment.” The Metaphor(tm) has now become literal.

Book Edward *drinking Bella’s blood*: ✨Bliss ✨🥰 >>>>>> Movie Edward: *gnaws on Bella’s arm like a chicken wing*

“The chuckle that bubbled up from my chest surprised me. I had her blood on her tongue. It was probably tinting the edges of my irises red even now. It was drying into my clothes and dyeing my skin. But she could still make me laugh”

Jasper looks so dangerous to other vampires that James just…accepts his fate. Like welp, guess I’ll die. Iconic

“Why am I towing that ridiculous truck?” Okay, the Cullens hating Bella’s truck is officially a gag.

“For a moment, I imagined Renée as a vampire. Would her thoughts shout audibly at everyone, inescapable?” Nice foreshadowing/Easter egg for Renesmee. So there is a meaning and rationale behind the name other than Bella’s corniness.

That section where Edward watches James’ video and is so overcome with rage and despair and then starts to pray for the strength to leave Bella…that passage was so well-written I was nearly crying

Re: Edward’s decision to leave Bella, It is genius on Meyer’s part (or, well, just practical) to make the obstacles internal instead of external. Edward needs to deal with the consequences of leaving Bella and learn from his mistakes

Finished and in sum: This was great and only gets better in the re-reading. There is a lot of whinging and whining over certain aspects, mostly by anti fans, but those didn’t really bother me. Most lines were taken out of context, as they always do, and spun into something questionable; in context they were fine. Then there are those who say it is better and better-written than Twilight, but I disagree. Twilight was much better structured and less superfluous in detail than Midnight Sun, which could get bogged down in minute-to-minute summary. That said, Midnight Sun does have the advantage that all the dynamic change and development are on Edward’s side than Bella’s, as in a proper Beauty and the Beast telling. But Bella’s story does have power and is arguably more subversive than Edward’s. I think the two complement ultimately each other—the subtext of Twilight is the text of Midnight Sun, and vice versa. Reading both gets you a more complete picture…which the TV show would undoubtedly fuck up in some way if they decide to use parts of Midnight Sun. Le sigh.

[supercantaloupe]

hello! would you be willing to talk about the flaws in d20? what did you mean by structural/cultural flaws?

sure. disclaimer up front that these are just my own opinions and that i don't want them being taken as fact or being taken up with the creators of d20 directly by anyone on my behalf.

i found that the longer d20 went on/the more seasons they produce that the structure and (some of) the content get less and less appealing to me. content wise this is really very subjective; for example i'm not interested in dating sim-type stories, so Shriek Week was never going to be my thing. but even seasons with premises/gimmicks that i like on paper (like anthro characters in Mice & Murder and space sci fi in Starstruck Odyssey) i found to lose my attention as they went on. love the concepts, but the execution was lacking a little bit for me.

but i think my issues with the show structurally are my larger criticisms, and i don't think my personal taste issues with the content are entirely divorced from the structural elements. anyway, what initially hooked me to d20 with fantasy high is the fact that, unlike any other actual play show i'd come across at that point, it had several structural elements in place that grabbed my attention and held it: 1. the episodes were relatively short (between 1-2 hours); 2. the seasons were relatively short (18 episodes or fewer); and 3. the visual aspects of sets and minis were engaging and helped sort out the action but were not NECESSARY to following along. i don't have the free time or attention span to get invested in an audio-only 100-episode campaign where every episode is like 4 hours long; d20's earliest seasons were very attractive to me for this reason (plus the inventive-for-the-actual-play-genre settings and plots, but this is one thing at least that i do not think d20 has faltered in with its later seasons. the creativity and originality is still great in this regard).

so it became an issue for me, starting around Crown of Candy, when episodes started creeping longer and longer. and then seasons crept longer and longer, like The Seven (sidequests used to be an easily digestible 6 episodes and i liked that). even worse than episodes consistently being over 2.5 hours long i think was that episodes were not a consistent length: the last two episodes of Starstruck Odyssey are under 1.5 and over 3 hours respectively. i understand that a lot of this has to do with the loose and unscripted nature of the storytelling medium, and the cast/editors don't want to break up the flow of the show in inconvenient places. but from my perspective as a viewer, it's kind of exhausting not knowing week to week how much time and energy in advance i'm going to need to dedicate to a new episode of my favorite dnd show to relax and rewind. i'm someone who just does not have the patience to dedicate to anything that long without forewarning, nor do i have the schedule to accommodate that without advanced budgeting of my time and workload. and since one of d20's existing strengths imo is its serialized weekly episode release (increasingly rare in this age of streaming and bingewatching), part of the fun of d20 is watching the brand new episode when it drops every week and reacting to it with everyone else doing the same thing at the same time. when a 3 hour episode drops on a wedesnday night and i have too much shit to do to watch it, and thus i have to wait til the weekend or later to catch up, i can see exactly what i'm missing out on when i watch all my friends on discord or tumblr or whatever watching and reacting to it without me.

i also really miss the structure of the rp-battle-rp-battle episode format, particularly for the mainquest seasons. i think this was an even bigger loss for the show due to covid than the physical minis and sets (which i missed, certainly, during the pandemic seasons, but i think they worked around their absence well enough that it didn't bother me). i'm sure also the more freeform nature of Sophomore Year contributed to this change too but since that was the only full season thus far that was ACTUALLY improvised live to an audience as opposed to being completely shot and edited prior to release, i don't hold it to the same standards of scrutiny as i do the other seasons. anyway, i once again think it comes down largely to a predictability thing for me: you knew, when there was such a pattern to the episodes, exactly what you were getting into in any given week, whether it'd be battle or roleplay. moreover, you knew that each episode was going to wrap itself up in a satisfying way (not necessarily a complete way, but in a satisfying way) that prepped for the next week's episode, which also promised to have a different tone and goal. that variety was important to me, and the predictability. battles and roleplay both get exhausting and difficult to follow (or worse, boring) after too long without the other to break it up. i miss the structure of this pattern (i think started to depart from this format with TUC2 iirc, which is also the first season i watched as it was airing and got the feeling that it was becoming a bit of a slog to watch all the way through).

all of this is criticism, of course, pretty ironic considering that Sophomore Year is still probably my favorite season. but again, livestreamed. they still (mostly) kept their episode length consistent around 2-2.5 hours (finales notwithstanding lol), there was more internal variety within episodes (one 2.5 hour episode wasn't necessarily 2.5 hours straight of just rp or just battle), the gang got split up a lot more which allowed for more variety in storytelling within an episode or an arc, etc. and on top of it, i think that plotwise, they followed up Fantasy High extremely well, introducing/continuing/expanding lore without it feeling out-of-place or retcon-y. i think it having been made still mostly pre-pandemic before a lot of these changes i've been complaining about were fully implemented does link it more closely still with the style of the early seasons i liked so much, but regardless i think Sophomore Year does demonstrate that some of these traits that i don't like about newer seasons, on their own, are not bad. i just don't think they're implemented very well in recent seasons, or at least not well enough to hold my attention and excitement anymore. long episodes aren't inherently bad, but inconsistently long episodes are hard to work around in my life. a lack of a regular rp-battle episode pattern isn't inherently bad, but there needs to be more internal variety to each episode and a satisfying wrap-up to each episode (which may mean simply wrapping up each episode sooner, or it may not).

none of this is even to get into the execution of content in each season. obviously ymmv with personal taste for whether you like any given season's premise or plot beats or whatever, but i remember the many (valid) criticisms emerging surrounding unbalanced character focus and especially racial insensitivity (from the show and from the fans) with certain seasons like TUC2 and Misfits & Magic. not even to mention my own problems with the inclusion of judaism (or lack thereof)/antisemitism in the show, but i have to get to class soon, and don't have time to elaborate on that right now. this post is long enough already, and my issues with the structural elements of the show are just as strong as my criticisms of its representation issues or whatever, plus i think structural elements are easier to understand if you haven't watched every single season because they apply broadly to many seasons, while issues of representation or bad plot/character balance or whatever are only relevant to specific seasons.

[multimilfs]

Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader: A Little Nudge

Summary: Anon requested “Could I request a slightly angsty Miranda Priestly X Reader? Maybe the reader is in the hospital (it's up to you why they're there) and they're panicking because they think they're gonna get fired. Miranda can replace them within the hour, after all.Miranda shows up to the hospital after hearing what happened and reassures Reader that they're fine. She confesses to the Reader because she was so scared something horrible had happened to them and she was gonna lose them. (sorry im just in a sad mood and im weak for hospital scenes)”

A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written for TDWP so be kind to me, please! I really hope you like it!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul​ @multifandomfix​

Warning(s): None

“Why is nobody ready?”

Miranda drawled from behind her desk, glancing at her watch with annoyance. Everyone near her held their breath; nobody having the guts to tell her that it was because you weren’t back yet. 

You were supposed to be back with the accessories from D&G ten minutes ago.

Jocelyn and the run-through team exchanged terrified glances. Someone was going to lose their job today. And knowing Miranda, it was going to be one of them.

They had been relying on the accessories to complete the outfits they’d prepared. An abysmal thing to do, but you’d promised that you would be back early. Now you were nowhere to be found.

Miranda was conveniently unaware of your absence. She was under the impression you weren’t supposed to be back for some time, thanks to a few carefully worded statements from Nigel. If she got wind that you’d gone awol, it’d be hell on earth for everyone in the Runway offices.

Standing beside Miranda’s desk, Nigel saw Serena approach the office. The model stopped when Nigel shook his head. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Talk to Emily.” He mouthed silently.

She did just that, turning elegantly on her heel to see the Brit dialing numbers frantically. Poor Emily hadn’t even noticed that Serena was there.

“Why is Nigel telling me to talk to you?” Serena asked softly.

Emily startled slightly, before looking relieved to have some type of help. She put the phone down on the hook quickly.

“Y/N has vanished,” Emily whispered, “I can’t get her to answer her bloody cell phone and she was supposed to be here ages ago!”

“What do you mean she vanished? She doesn’t vanish.” Serena asked.

“You’re telling me. Jocelyn needed the accessories from the winter collection for the run-through and she promised to have them here. Miranda is two minutes from firing them all if we don’t come up with an excuse.”

Emily let her head fall into her hands, repeating her low mantra that she loved her job. Today was not going to be an easy one, it seemed.

A moment before Serena could suggest anything, Miranda’s cold voice echoed from her office.

“So what I’m hearing is that you failed to prepare? After I gave you countless days to finish a simple task.” Miranda asked.

Everyone winced at the chill in her voice. La Priestly wasn’t known for being warm, but this felt like frost-bite.

“We’re just missing the accessories for a few of the outfits.” Jocelyn offered.

Miranda’s hard gaze settled on the girl, making her regret speaking. Drawing attention to herself was the last thing she should have done.

“‘Just’ the accessories,” The editor said dryly, “If you were to go skydiving, I’m sure you’d be fine without a parachute then?”

Jocelyn shook her head quickly. The only way out of this would be for a miracle to strike. She was mentally kissing her job goodbye.

Then Emily’s cell phone rang.

Scrambling for the device, she could have jumped for joy to see your name on the caller ID. She was furious, mind you, but glad to see you were okay.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Emily hissed in lieu of a greeting.

“Em, I can explain-“

“I’m sure you can, but it better be good or I’m throwing you La Priestly.”

“I’m in the hospital.” You said.

Emily inhaled sharply. She didn’t miss the way your voice cracked over those few words. It may mean more work for her, but an injury like that could cost you your job.

“What did you get yourself into?” Emily asked.

“The heat today exascerbated something and I collapsed, the doctors are running tests now.” You explained softly, lacking the energy you normally had.

Serena watched worriedly as Emily put her forehead down on the desk, letting out a defeated sigh. This felt like the icing on the cake of an already terrible day. She had no idea how to break it to Miranda. The woman was practically reliant on you and your abilities.

“Em?” You whispered over the line brokenly, “Tell Miranda I can have my desk cleared once I’m d-discharged, okay? I understand-“

“No. You-You don’t get to abandon me so close to Paris. I’ll find a way to fix this…”

“It’s okay. I understand what it takes to be one of Miranda’s girls. Collapsing on the job isn’t part of the description.”

“She can make an exception.” Emily snapped.

You sighed on the other end. It broke your heart that you’d probably lose everything now, but you understood that Miranda was far too busy to accept an injured assistant. Even if you did hope that she cared enough to keep you on.

“Do what you can, okay? Just don’t get yourself sacked. I’m at Presbeterian, room 311.”

There were a few more words exchanged before Emily hung up the phone, looking hard at Serena, who stared back with concern.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” She said quietly.

Serena stood with a look of shock on her face. What could have happened to put you in the hospital?

“How are you going to tell Miranda?” She asked instead.

“Beats me, but someone has to.” Emily laughed bitterly.

She stood and walked to the doorway of Miranda’s office, where the woman was regaling Nigel with the incompetence of her staff, who were standing in the room. Nigel noticed Emily and raised an eyebrow in question, to which she shook her head. His face seemed to pale.

Unsure of what to do or say, Emily remained standing in the doorway. She kept her hands clasped in front of her to keep from ringing them.

“Is there a reason for your hovering, Emily?” Miranda asked, her icy gaze resting on her poor assistant.

“Um, well.” She tried, but nothing came out. She froze.

“Do take your time. None of us have jobs to do.”

The editor rolled her eyes, a devious smirk resting on her face. She drew a sort of horrible glee from seeing her employees squirm.

“Y/N is in the hospital.” Serena said.

Any movement in the room stopped immediately. The run-through team held their breath, looking to Miranda.

Upon hearing the words, Miranda felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk hard. Besides something happening to her daughters, something happening to you had become her worst nightmare.

“Excuse me?” She asked, tone just above a whisper.

“She’s conscious, she called to let me know herself where she was,” Emily rushed out, before anyone could make the situation worse, “Something occurred that caused her to collapse, but-“

“I’ve heard enough.”

Miranda was out of her seat the second Emily mentioned that you were awake. That you weren’t gravely injured or in a coma. Her fear eased slightly, but it wouldn’t vanish until she saw you. She was barreling through the office without a care for what was on her agenda.

“Cancel any meetings for the rest of the day and get Roy here immediately. I want access to her room upon my arrival; I don’t care what favors you have to promise or whose egos you have to stroke, get me into that room.”

She snatched her coat and purse from Serena’s hands, rattling off the demands without slowing her pace. Then she was ensconced in the elevator while everyone looked at one another in shock.

“Do you think she’s going to fire her?” Emily asked Nigel, who laughed.

“I think that is the last thing she plans on doing. Now I’d get on the phone with Roy…”

Eyes widening, Emily let out a yelp, rushing towards her desk. Nigel just shook his head; of course Miranda would hold out on her feelings until you fell injured. She apparently just needed that final nudge. 

———

In your hospital room, you were trying valiantly to hold back tears. Your head was leant back against the pillows, eyes closed. All you could see was Miranda’s face in your mind.

You weren’t sure what happened; one second you were walking down 35th, the next a paramedic was standing over you hounding you for information. If you hadn’t been in an ambulance racing through traffic, you would have demanded they let you out. You had a job to do.

Now, you couldn’t. You had let down the editorial team and Miranda by proxy. It hurt you in a million different ways, but you accepted that you were out of a job. That you would no longer spend the days around the woman you secretly loved.

It sent a pang of pain through your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut against it. Remaining strong, even now, was important to you. It wouldn’t do to let your resolve crumble.

Absentmindedly, you heard someone walk into your room. You let out a loud sigh.

“Look, doc, I told you I’m fine. My head may be throbbing, but I’m not going to die on you. Though I may if I don’t get something other than hospital food.” You laughed.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

You snapped your eyes open at the voice that was clearly not your doctor’s. Standing there, looking divine as ever, was Miranda Priestly. The woman you were hopelessly in love with.

“Miranda?”

“No, Donald Trump.” She deadpanned, a smirk pulling at her mouth.

Did Miranda Priestly just make a joke? Your mind asked, though you couldn’t stop the grin that spread on your face. She looked pleased at your reaction.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, you know,” You said softly, reality creeping back in, “I told Emily that I could have my desk cleared as soon as they discharged me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Miranda said, feeling as if the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

“I know how busy your schedule is- Hell, I arranged it. You didn’t have to come all the way here to let me go.”

“Is that why you think I’m here? To fire you?”

“...Isn’t it?”

Miranda let out a hollow sounding laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. You watched her with thinly veiled confusion. Then she walked to your bedside, hesitantly placing her hand on top of yours. Your heart stopped.

“Silly girl,” Miranda said softly, “Do you think I would come here for something as menial as that? Do you think I’d race here, heart pounding with fear, to fire you?”

You felt like you were in a dream. Given that you were in a hospital, it didn’t seem too outlandish that you were imagining it. But when Miranda leant in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, you knew this was reality. This was no mere dream.

She made to pull away from you, offended at your lack of response, but you wouldn’t let her. Grabbing the lapels of her blazer, you dragged her lips back to yours for a long kiss.

When you finally separated, you felt like you were riding a cloud. This was never what you expected to happen. It was wilder than your wildest dreams.

“So… I take it I’m not fired?” You asked with a cheeky smile.

And so overcome with happiness, Miranda let her normal mask drop, throwing her head back and letting out a joyful laugh.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.9)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Nine) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,991 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Author’s Note: I apologize if the tags haven’t been working. I was using the new beta editor but I’ve switched back to traditional! BTW, I think I am coming up to the close on the fic soon! Just a head’s up.

Part Eight || Part Ten || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~A month ago…

You heard someone walk into the living room and you peeked out from your cocoon of blankets you had set up for yourself, curled up on the couch, watching tv. Happy cocked an eyebrow seeing you, his eyes running over the seltzer water and all the blankets.

“Are you okay?” he questioned.

“I don’t feel great,” you said, taking another sip of your water. You wished Tony was home, but he had gone on a business trip. Happy had stayed behind to keep an eye on you. Tony trusted him more than any of his other men to make sure you were kept safe in his absence.

“Do you need to go to the doctor?” Happy asked concerned.

You shrugged, “I’m just nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything serious. I might have eaten something bad.”

Happy did not look convinced. “Tell me if it gets worse. And I’ll get you an appointment.”

Nodding, you picked your water back up and took another drink, hoping the carbonation would help settle your stomach. You did not even bother to tell Tony later around dinner time when he called to check in, brushing it off.

It subsided later in the day and you thought you were in the clear until the next morning – very early, 4:00am – it hit again. Groaning, you could not ignore the swirling and you got out of bed, rubbing at your eyes.

FRIDAY set on the baseboard lights as you walked downstairs to guide your way.

You opened the bag of bread and took a slice out, stuffing it into your mouth as you closed the bag back up. Taking a large bite, you chewed slowly. Maybe you were having acid reflux and the bread would help soak it up.

You meandered, swallowing the first bite, as you approached the door to the patio. You laid your hand on it and it unlocked for you. Stepping outside, you inhaled the fresh air deeply. That made you feel slightly better.

<><><>

In Berlin, Tony’s watch beeped. He looked away from the table where he was having a late lunch with a fellow boss and their crew that was helping him secure capital in the city. FRIDAY was alerting him that Y/N had activated the system to go outside. His face screwed up in confusion, calculating quickly what time it was back home in Malibu. It would be a little after 4:25am.

“Excuse me, would you?” Tony asked and the other boss nodded, taking a drink of their beer. Tony slipped his tablet out of his bag as he left the table.

Walking away from the table, he moved towards the balcony overlooking the city. Holding the tablet up, he accessed the cameras at home, pulling up the outside cameras since she had left to the patio. He was on edge, wondering what the hell she was doing outside so early.

She was just sitting in one of the chairs, eating a piece of bread, which only served to confuse him more. But at least she was there; she had not run off.

He watched her for a few moments before movement by the door caught his eye and he saw Happy step outside.

“Good man,” Tony said under his breath, knowing FRIDAY would have alerted Happy too in the guest room he was in per Tony’s programming. He would have been severely disappointed if Happy had not come outside to check on her.

The two of them were speaking and Tony did not miss the concerned look on Happy’s face.

Suddenly, Y/N jerked forward, vomiting all over the cement, barely missing Happy’s slippers much to Tony’s shock. Was she hung over? That would explain the bread.

Happy came closer and his hand came to her back, steadying her as she leaned over the side of the chair. He was speaking quickly to her and she shook her head, and he shook his right back at her. Tony watched Happy settle her back and hold up a hand to her, before he went back towards the door, leaving her out there.

When he came back out, he had some napkins and some water. She shook her head at the water and he forced it towards her.

“Looks like someone had a little too much fun last night,” Tony said to himself before closing the camera. He had no further reason to be concerned about it; it looked like Happy had it perfectly under control.

Which is why when he had just got sat back down at the table, his cell phone started to ring. The other boss laughed at his expense, making a comment about him being a busy man. Tony apologized and checked his watch, seeing it was Happy. He excused himself again quickly and got up.

“What?” Tony asked. “I just got sat down at the table.”

“I’m gonna make an appointment for Y/N. Where do you want her to go?” Happy cut in immediately.

“What? What for?”

“She doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, I saw. Got a good view of that vomit. How much did she have to drink last night?”

“Nothing. She didn’t drink anything,” Happy told him, surprising Tony. “She didn’t feel well yesterday either and I told her to tell me if it got worse. Did she tell you when she spoke to you on the phone last night?”

“No. What do you mean she’s not feeling well?”

“Nausea she said. Maybe she has a stomach bug, I don’t know. But food poisoning doesn’t generally last two days.”

Tony rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Um, just take her to my guy. She’s on my insurance plan. She’s been to him before.”

“Not the ER?”

“You think it’s an ER type of situation?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, throwing up usually isn’t an ER thing but I don’t know.”

“Did she throw up yesterday?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“No other symptoms?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Tony said to himself more than anything. He pondered on it and tapped the railing as he weighed the options. Something came to him then and he straightened up. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought more about it.

“Boss?”

Shaking his head, Tony cleared his throat, “You know, no. On second thought, no. No doctor or ER.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m heading back tonight. You know, if she starts showing other symptoms, take her to the doctor. My guy. But I think she’ll be fine.”

Happy said slowly, “Um, alright…”

“Morning sickness, Hap. Not to get too excited about it yet but… fits the bill.”

“Oh,” Happy said and Tony could hear the realization peaking in his voice. “Right.”

“So, just keep an eye on her. I’ll be on the plane soon and then I’ll just stop on the way home at the pharmacy. Get a test,” Tony said, feeling lighter about the situation. “Order her some 7-Up or something, soups. Just keep her comfortable for me, yeah?”

“You got it,” Happy confirmed.

<><><>

“We have lunch plans, but Tony is taking forever,” you told Steve as the two of you boarded the elevator to go down further into the building.

Anticipation was nipping at your heels; you had not explored this part of the building yet. Steve had come to speak to Tony but when he was told by Angelica that Tony was busy, he was quick to brush off needing to see him. He just needed to go downstairs to pick something up. You had practically thrown down the magazine you were pretending to read, asking if you could come with. He had been polite and courteous, telling you he would love the company. Angelica looked like she wanted to say something, but you purposely ignored her, walking by and following Steve.

“Oh? Where are you going for lunch?” Steve asked interested.

“This place Pepper suggested. Mario’s. Up in the Bronx.”

“Never been.”

“I trust her opinion. She seems to know what she’s talking about.”

“That she does,” Steve smiled back.

“What are you doing here though?” you inquired, switching gears.

“I need another set of batteries for one of my weapons.”

“You couldn’t go to the store?” you asked confused.

Steve chuckled, throwing you an amused look. “No, they’re special batteries.”

“Oh…”

Steve immediately noticed your embarrassment and he quickly said, “Not like you would know that. That’s something I would think too. But the batteries are special. What you said was logical.”

Logical. Not an adjective you heard attributed to you often. Maybe never.

The elevator door opened, and you hesitated seeing the men standing guard outside it but Steve strode out, unperturbed by them. You followed him, catching up to his long strides.

“Why did you want to come down here though besides Tony taking too long?” Steve asked, eyeing you curiously as the pair of you walked.

“One, I was bored as you can imagine, waiting for him to finish whatever he was doing. And two, Tony didn’t let me see anything except his office or the boardroom since I’ve been here. Said it wasn’t important for me to see it. But I want to.”

“Hmm,” Steve said shooting you a look. “You think you should be down here then?”

“I don’t see why not. I can keep secrets well enough if that’s what everyone is worried about.”

Steve’s lips curled into a soft smile at that, his eyes running over you.

You were taking in all the people working, the technology they were using. It was like the garage back home where Tony worked but far, far more busy. It was a little overwhelming.

Steve was nodding at random people who greeted him in awe. He came to a stop in front of someone though standing behind a desk.

She looked up and smiled, recognizing him on sight. “That was quick, Cap.” He eyes turned to you and she faltered, “And…”

“Y/N. Tony’s wife,” Steve introduced you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you,” she apologized immediately. You took note that her bade said her name was Eva.

“How could you have? I’ve never been down here before,” you said, giving her a small reassuring smile.

She relaxed at your calm demeanor and turned to grab something off the desk behind her. Handing it to Steve, she told him, “So, there’s backups in there too so you don’t need to make another trip so soon.”

“Nice, that’s thoughtful. Thank you,” Steve commented.

“You’re going to want to update your system though. I’ll send you a link to do so on the secure network,” Eva went on explaining.

“Alright, I’ll figure it out.” Steve looked at you and said sheepishly, “Tech isn’t my strong point. I have gotten better though, so there’s hope.”

“I can’t keep up with Tony sometimes and I’ve been around technology my whole life. I mean, my whole house is a giant computer essentially,” you responded. “Could not even begin to explain to you how it works.”

“It’s complicated but it’s helpful right?” Eva asked lightheartedly. You nodded and she said, “I’ll be the first to admit I wouldn’t be able to keep up with how Mr. Stark talks about tech either. Could not even begin to fathom how his brain works. I swear he’s not speaking English sometimes when he’s giving presentations.”

You snorted, as did Steve. “I can attest to that,” Steve agreed. “I just let him lead when it comes to this type of stuff.”

You could relate to that. You let Tony lead in pretty much every facet.

“Same. It’s just easier to stand behind him,” you said. Steve’s brow creased at your comment and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. Trying to draw attention away from it, you gestured at the box. “May I?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, handing it over to you.

You opened the box and touched the odd shaped metal. “Definitely doesn’t look like normal batteries.”

“Nope,” Eva agreed.

Steve was looking at you with purpose when you handed the box back to him. His gaze slid to Eva and he asked, “Do you have some time?”

“For what, Mr. Rogers?”

“A small tour. Mrs. Stark hasn’t been able to see around the building because Tony has been busy, and a little explanation of some things down here might scratch her itch?” Steve looked at you for approval. “I mean, if you want that, of course.”

Excitement flared up and you nodded, “Yeah. I probably have time. Especially if there’s things to look at that won’t put me in a ‘we can show you but then we will have to kill you’ type of spot.”

Eva laughed at that. “There’s some of that available, yes.” She gestured past the desk behind her. “Shall we?”

Steve held out his arm to you and you took it appreciatively.

Eva started at a microchip, explaining it had the startings of being able to upload a personality to a robot to mimic a sentient being.

“So, like Vision?” you asked.

“Yes. Like Vision. But definitely nowhere near as advanced or powerful as he is. This is… it would be like a bodyguard for example?”

“A nanny for the baby when you need a break?” Steve joked quietly into your ear. You looked at him perplexed at the admission he knew and his smile fell. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—Tony told the team. I’m sorry if it was still supposed to be a secret?”

You waved it off quickly. “It’s fine. It’s you guys he told. You’re not nobodies.”

Though you did dislike that Tony was being so free with the information. You were only about two months along. He was getting too excited about it too soon whereas you were worried, your pessimism getting the better of you.

“And I’m sure I’ll need a break,” you joked back to Steve and he relaxed as the two of you followed Eva, her pointing things out that she could share.

You were so engrossed in what she was saying you only saw Tony’s reflection in the glass wall behind her at the last second.

You turned your head quickly and said innocently, “You’re done upstairs, then?”

“Rogers,” Tony said tightly, his eyes shooting to your arms intertwined before snapping back to Steve’s face. He looked very suspicious; you knew that look. Jealousy.

“Tony,” Steve returned, and he gracefully let your arm fall. He held up the box, “Thanks for the battery replacement. And the reminder to come grab it. I definitely would have forgotten without it.”

Tony by stepped his last comments. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” Steve said, tossing Eva a look. He held up the box to her now and said, “Thanks for being so prompt with this. It was helpful. And thanks for the walk.”

<><><>

When they were out of earshot, Tony told him firmly in hushed tones, “I’m not sure why you thought it was appropriate but don’t bring Y/N down here in the future.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know she wasn’t allowed until we were already down here,” Steve said and he saw Tony frown deeply. “She did say you didn’t wanna show her around the building after we came down here and I did ask if she thought she should be down here at all. Figured to just keep her close until we went back upstairs.”

“No, she shouldn’t be down here. I don’t want her knowing anything. Puts her at risk, knowledge. Kidnappings and whatnot.”

“I think being married to you, Tony, is what puts her at risk for that.”

Tony’s closed lipped smile did not reach his eyes; he was not amused with Steve’s quip.

“Regardless, for the future, don’t let the curiosity kill the cat. She’s better off naïve about it. Even if she’s learning on the arm of America’s golden boy.”

Silence ate away at the two of them for a few moments before Steve shrugged, relenting. He said stoically, “Understood.”

“Good,” Tony clipped. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I have lunch plans and I fear I’ve kept her waiting for far too long.”

Steve shook his head as soon as Tony brushed past him, leaving him by the elevator.

<><><>

You had thanked Eva before telling her she should probably go back to work now that the boss was in the room. She picked up on your joke but did it all the same. You paced slowly, watching carefully as Tony spoke with Steve. They were both tense and you sighed, knowing he was likely cursing Steve for assisting you down here. He really did not want you to know anything about most of his work whether it be here or out on the streets or in the political arena.

He came back to you and you gave him a smile, that he did not return.

“What were you doing down here?” he asked tightly, his hand coming to the small of your back and directing you back towards the elevator where he had left Steve who had already gone back up.

“Looking around,” you told him. “I was bored.”

“Do you not remember me telling you to not go poking around?”

“Yes, but I was curious.”

“It would make me happy if you would listen to me,” Tony said, nodding at one of his workers as he passed. “Don’t you wanna make me happy, kitten?”

“85 percent of the time,” you quipped, trying to get him to smile. But he still did not and your own slowly melted away as he responded.

“I think that sounds about right.”

There was something off about him, but you could not figure out what. You elected to stay quiet the rest of the stride to the elevator. He pressed the button to the elevator to come back down, his fingers on his other hand drawing lazy circles on the small of your back. Every so often though, his fingers dug in slightly and you did your best to not flinch away.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[0risha]

THE FIRST MONTH

» CHAPTER SUMMARY : As an aspiring author in New York, life hasn’t been the easiest. To your surprise, things start to look brighter when you're met with an unexpected offer.

» TAGS : a few curse words, mentions of insecurity

⤻ series m.list  | series playlist | ⤻ the next month

“Take as much time as you need,” Draena drawls. Your brows furrow as you note that she was, indeed, being sarcastic. 

“A-are you gaslighting me,” you scoff over the line. You wait to hear a bubble of laughter from your editor/best friend but it never comes.

“Shut it.” You gulp as her tone turns hard. “What you turned in last night.” You shut your eyes in hopes of drowning out her next line. 

“Was complete shit.” 

“Gosh, you’re so rude.” You turn in your seat, propping up your glasses as your attention moves from your computer screen to your slumbering cat. “What happened to my happy, enthusiastic Rae rae?” you boast, clutching the phone closer to your ear. 

“Well, this so-called final draft made my mood go sour.” 

“Fuck, Rae- I’m trying here.” You coax, internally wincing when you catch the crawling desperation in your voice. Draena must’ve heard it too.

“I know you are babe but when you send me videos of you dancing with Yuka while Erykah Badu’s singing her heart out in the background—” her voice cuts off when you let out a snicker. 

“It’s not funny Y/N!” Draena proclaims but you hear the low laugh she lets out. “Okay, but when you send me videos of that it makes me think otherwise.” 

You hum in feigned contemplation. “But you know…. those are like my interim periods.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

“Wait, no! Rae rae please- I was kidding,” you plead, frantically.

“Give me a better draft by the 12th an—"

“Rae rae!” Your cat turns to you, telepathically telling you to shut up with her green, narrowed eyes.

“And have a goodnight Y/N, I love you.” 

Beep.

You heave out a sigh. “She definitely doesn’t love me,” you confess to the air. “Yuka baby,” you sing, patting your lap; a signal for her to jump on.

“But you do…. I just know you do.” You coo, rubbing the scruff of Yuka’s white-haired neck as she curls into you.

“Yuka…. why does the world hate me so much?” You take your pair of glasses from your face and throw them on your desk. 

“And my head hurts…..” you whine. “And m’ so hungry.” 

You hear Yuka purr in agreement.

“Ugh, Yuka, back home they had such good ramen.” You sigh wistfully, turning to glare at the microwaveable ramen cup that sat in your trash.

“I miss it.” You divert your gaze from the trash to your office window to watch a trail of rain pellets zig-zag across the glass. Dark, heavy clouds farther up in the background. 

New York’s current weather didn’t help with your somber mood. 

“M’ gonna take you there one day, I promise.” You sniffle, unwanted emotions welling up in your chest. 

“You know who I want you to meet!” You raise an index finger idly in the air. “Want you to meet my brother, he loves cats. Have I told you that, Yuka?” Your mood instantly flips as you remember your older sibling. Though, it drops just the same when you get no response. It wasn’t like you were gonna get one anyway. 

With the piercing silence in your apartment, your mind starts to wander to forbidden thoughts. To straggly blonde hair, dark amber e—

“No!” Yuka jerks up when you do. “I’m not doing this tonight.” You push up from your chair, Yuka mewling in rejection. “Sorry, baby, come cuddle with me in bed.” You take one last guilty glance at your computer before walking to your bedroom. Groaning when your body hits your not so soft mattress. You pat the sheets for signs of Yuka’s body but to no avail. With a roll to the side of your bed, you see her glued to the floor. “You’re so spoiled,” you grunt, taking her in your arms and plopping her next to you. 

“Goodnight Yuka.” You get a nuzzle in response. 

When your eyes close and the rest of the world fades, you end up dreaming of him.

Well, it’s not just him. It’s more of an uncatchable blur of moments together. 

Your entry at the local girl’s volleyball workshop that you had eventually begged your mother to quit because you were terrible at it. 

The teasing words he would throw at you because of your non-ability to even set a ball. How his brother would force him to apologize after seeing the tears that stained your brown, pudgy cheeks.

Unsurprisingly, Aran was too caught up in his little world to even care but they were glee-full memories, nonetheless. 

Although, as if your subconscious was in tune with your wants, your dreams didn’t stray too far, cutting right off before that summer. 

The next morning, you’re pulled out of your sleep by Yuka’s insistent scratching against your chest.

“Damn it, Yuka, don’t scratch my nipple off,” you grunt. When you open your eyes, you’re forced to squint due to the harshness of the sun that filters through your bedroom blinds. 

With a sigh, you roll over to grab your phone, groaning when the bright light hits your sensitive eyes. You didn’t have any texts from Draena, which made you happy and sad at the same time. Usually, if Draena sent texts, they were pleas for a new draft or implied words of motivation that were sometimes laced with venom; the absence of emoticons always a telltale sign. 

However, Draena was the only person that bothered to text you, so it did brighten your day a teensy bit when she did. Aran didn’t text, at all, and if you didn’t know better you would think that he physically couldn’t, but he just took joy in speaking on the phone.

“She’s really mad at me huh, Yuka.” You throw your phone on the pile of sheets when you rise from your bed. Body craning to relieve itself when you elongate it to an upwards stretch. Yuka does the same, her white tail thumping on the wood-like tile floor. 

“Don’t have anything to do today,” you whisper, rubbing your eyes as you drag your body to your cramped bathroom. 

When you reach for your toothbrush, you glance at your reflection in the mirror. A simple glance turns into a long, attentive stare as you try to mentally pick and prod at your appearance. You blink, silently shocked that you weren’t falling into an ether of insecurities. 

While furiously brushing your teeth, careful to avoid harsh circles on your sensitive gums, you stare vacantly at your mirrored face. As if observing for long enough would finally uprise the emotions you had grown accustomed to. 

Droopy eyes, too full lips, not the prettiest nose. 

But they never came.

And as uncanny as it sounded, you didn’t like it. You didn’t like the unfamiliarity of losing such a dear friend. One, that you had carried by your side for years on end.

After placing your toothbrush back in its rightful place, you swished a small amount of evergreen mouthwash in your mouth, letting out a wince after following it down with a swish of cold water. 

You turn to leave, but not before glancing once more at your mirror.

It’d be back soon, it had to.

After feeding Yuka a reasonable amount of catnip and changing her litter box, you plop down on your couch (which was to your dismay, missing a few springs), grab your remote, and flip to a random channel. 

After a couple of minutes into a series about fire emergencies, you found it hard to concentrate, the colors that were supposed to solidify into suitable entertainment only blurred by. You squint, but the effect only works for a second. 

Things were so bad that you couldn’t even watch television?

Though, you weren’t sure what exactly these things were. Yeah, living in this place wasn’t exactly ideal but you were gonna make it big in due time. The heavy-paged outline you’d sent in last month had been placed on the top of the Greatest Upcoming list by your publishing company. 

Perhaps, that was the case; the heavy expectations that had been placed on your already frail shoulders, albeit, you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you’d hit the submit button. You couldn’t help but think that your conflicted emotions were for an entirely different reason. 

It was frustrating not knowing what was going on with yourself. The little things that were supposed to make you happy; eating snacks, listening to your mother’s voicemails, playing with Yuka, all felt like a toll. 

However, this train of thought introduced a new one. 

A rush of impelling air flits through your apartment, before it could find the means to disappear you clamber up to your office. Well, it was more a corner of your apartment that could fit a desk than an office, but it was enough. 

Grabbing your glasses from the desk drawer and placing them right on the bridge of your nose, your fingers fly. They’re set in rhythm, thoughts that fly to your fingertips and transfer. It goes on like this for nearly two hours, your eyes burn and your joints ache but something tells you that if you were to stop now, a feeling like this wouldn’t be so easy to attain again. Rare moments like these felt like euphoria. But it always came with a price; a hook of fear that settled in your skin. The fear of writing something that wasn’t up to par. 

To your utmost dismay, your writing is interrupted by the ringing of your phone, and just like that your impel disappears. With an annoyance-filled groan, you grab the source of the noise. 

Draena.

“What! Rae rae... I can’t believe you, I had the best feeling of motivation, and my fucking fingers wer—”

“Come. Now.” Your eyebrows shoot up as Draena cuts off your impending rant, her voice low and demanding.

“Huh- to NPC, why?” Going to your publishing company was a rare occurrence, you basically worked from home. 

“Urgent news.” Draena clips.

“Why the short answers? Just tell me…” your voice trails off. As much as you hated to admit, you were terrified. What if they booted up your deadline? Or worse… 

“No, they’re not kicking you off the list because of your terrible drafts.” You release a long breath in relief. 

“So what is it?” You gnawed the bottom of your lip in trepidation. 

“You’ll see.” The line cuts.

You roll your eyes. Draena hanging up on you was starting to become an annoying habit.

With a glance at your computer screen, your eyes widen in shock. 

68,000 words.

A new record.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone knew about New York, the melting pot of all types of people, food, festivities, and yadda yadda. 

But no one seemed to know how dampening it was. To you at least. 

The difference between being in one of the most active places in the states and having nothing going for you was very...depressing. Though the thoughts of impending success snuck into your gloomy thoughts, it was driven away by impatience. 

When? When were you going to finally catch a break? When were you going to be shrouded by contentment and feel as though moving to the states was the right choice? 

These thoughts compiled onto your mind as you stared at the back of a stranger’s brown and very ugly loafers.

The metro was loud and bustling with life. Though, it didn’t hold much surprise. 

You made sure to keep your head downcast and avoid eye contact with anybody. You were lucky enough to get a seat on the train, but the regret finally started to set in when you felt another person pushing against the left of you. 

With an inaudible sigh, you close your eyes in hopes of getting a few moments of peace before you had to go to your publishing company. Draena did tell you that it wasn’t a serious matter but a gut feeling told you that it was. 

When your stop comes, you squeeze through a plethora of bodies to get out of the doors. 

The walk to your publishing company is short, your gray sweatpants and sweatshirt made it an easier trek. With your heart in your throat, you elongate your neck to stare at the company. It was nothing special, a five-storied building that looked slightly crappy on the inside. However, it was seemingly special to you. It’d housed dozens of authors esteemed with the title of best-seller and you’d be damned if you weren’t one. 

After giving yourself a speech of confidence, you enter the building. The first thing that hits you is the overbearing stench of coffee. The sweet smell of donuts, next. Which leaves you to salivate due to the absence of breakfast. 

“You can have mine if you want to.” A figure towers over yours. Michael. Your eyes flit to his face, then to the donut, he offers on a folded napkin. Your nose scrunches up in distaste. A cruller.

When you see the way his face slightly falls, you smile at him. “Thank you, Michael. I’ll make sure to eat this since I didn’t have any breakfast this morning.” As you grab the donut from his hand and your fingers brush ever so slightly, you catch the way his cheeks flush red. 

Now, you weren’t an egotistical fool but there was no way that Michael didn’t have a thing for you. But there was no way you were going to entertain him. Yeah, he was cute; short-cropped black hair, sharp cheekbones, and nice jade eyes to go with it, he wasn’t your type. It didn’t help that he was only eighteen, four years your junior. The gap wasn’t huge but it just… wasn’t your thing. 

“H-have a nice day.” He chokes out, a nervous smile adorning his pasty cheeks. 

“I will, thanks again.” With a small smile, you turn away to trudge up the stairwell. 

The stairs are rickety and downright scary. Every step you take causes a flash of childish vision in which you end up falling through. The quality of the rails didn’t help either. Renovations, maybe?

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you finally make your way through to the fifth floor. Surprisingly, this floor was tidier than the rest. More expensive printers, offices, and equipment in general. 

“Finally.” Draena cruises towards you, her expression is neutral, conveying no signs of what’s about to come. 

“Hi Rae rae,” you smile, handing her your cruller. “You look nice.” You observe her pencil skirt that fits just right on her curves, and her white button-up that makes her chest look really, really nice.

“Stop ogling my tits, you perv.” You roll your eyes at her crude language as she stuffs her face with the donut. “You look….” She ducks her head to study your attire. “Comfortable.” 

“Putting your rudeness aside.” You wave your arms. “Uh… what am I here for?” You scratch the back of your neck as a source of relief. 

Sensing your nervousness, Draena places her hands on your shoulders. “Everything’s fine, I promise. Just follow me.” She turns.

You blink out of your stupor to follow behind. Your eyes stay downcast. “Stop looking at my ass—”

Your eyes widen in shock as everyone turns to give you a perturbed stare. “W-what! Draena— I was not.” You scramble up to stand side by side with your friend, sending her an icy glare.

She gives you a low chuckle in response. “I know, I know. Just tryna get you to lighten up.” She pats your mass of curls. “Well, I hope ya did, cause we’re here.” She stops in front of the main conference room. 

She pulls your sweaty hands into her own. “You got this! Just don’t say too much because you don’t nee—”

“Huh- you’re not coming with me!” you whisper-yell, eyes moving sporadically in disbelief.

“Nope!” She springs, letting go of your hand and turning you towards the door. “Good luck, babes, call me when you’re done, I can’t wait to see your reaction.” And with that, Draena pushes a very terrified you into the conference room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh, Miya!” Atsumu turns to the loud reporter. “Any ladies in your life?” 

“Nah and yer crazy if you think there’s gonna be.” He gives an upturning grin as the conference room bursts into a muttering mess.

Next to him, Sakusa grunts, “you’re so damn arrogant.” Atsumu gives him a shrug in return.

“So, any past ladies you’re still willing to pine over?” Atsumu blinks once, twice. The room falls into an eerie silence as his teammates turn to peer at him. 

“Nah,” he clips. “Let’s talk about the game now.” Atsumu coughs. “We should be talking about Mr. Shoyo here, no?” The orange-haired boy flushes in embarrassment as the attention of the room shifts to him. 

When the team heads back to the locker room, the air is filled with exhaustion. The adrenaline finally slithering away as they grab their belongings. 

Meian, their team captain clambers up to Atsumu’s figure and clasps him on the shoulder. “What was that about, Miya?” 

Slowly, Atsumu turns to give him a confused look. “What was what about?” He lies, slinging his bag on his other shoulder. His eyes flicker across the locker room as everyone tries, but fails miserably, to hide their interest in the conversation. 

“Whatever, I know you’re not gonna tell me,” Meian sighs, already used to the boy's nonchalant façade.

With a huff and a series of goodbyes, Atsumu slides out of the locker room and pulls the hood of his jacket on his head. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, thumbs ready to send a pleading text to his Osamu. 

When he does, he sighs wistfully. Silently hoping that his brother would give him at least a dozen of onigiris of his choice, for free. When his phone ringer goes off, he immediately slides accept. A wide smile on his face as he speaks to what he thinks is his brother.

“Sumu! If you’re calling to ask, I’d really like some with grilled salm-”

“Nah, It’s not Osamu.” Atsumu comes to a stop in the MSBY parking lot. 

“A-aran?” His dark amber eyes go wide. It’d been so long, but there was no he’d forget his best friend’s voice. 

“Yeah.” Though his voice is much deeper and gruff, a sense of nostalgia washes over Atsumu.

“What’d you call for? We haven’t talk-”

As Aran’s next words filter through Atsumu's right ear, the setter’s spine grows rigid. A plethora of thoughts enter his mind to merge into a red, blaring question mark. 

“Y/N’s coming back to Japan.”

a/n: yayy, i know this is kinda short and should probably be a prologue instead of chapter one but.... idk. also, i’m really excited to dive more into atsumu’s character. okay, okay other than that. I hope you enjoyed this! I feel as though the header is downright ugly but whatevs ┐( ˘_˘)┌

[djrelentless]

When I say "It Gets Better", I mean it! (October 3rd, 2011)

I just finished watching Anderson Cooper's show on "bullying in schools". Sparked by the death of Jamey Rodemeyer, it started an interesting conversation between my husband and myself. Anderson had several stories of kids. Some who committed suicide and a few that are still here dealing with the problem. All sad stories that brought up memories of my teen years.

Jamey Rodemeyer

As I remember, the kids who were picked on were the outcasts. The "not-so-attractive", the "feminine boys", the kids  who were different in appearance and attitude were all fair game. Given the fact that my grandmother kept my hair in cornrow braids when I was in elementary school, I was most definitely considered to be a "sissy". I was constantly being told "Oh...what a cute little girl". Of course while all the other boys were interested in sports and outdoor activities, I was only interested in music and art. Both of my uncles played football. It never struck a chord with me. I would rather be in the backyard playing wit my grandmother's old pots and pans.

By the time I reached Junior High School, the bullying had escalated into pushing and tripping in the halls. Although I am very tall today, I was quite the skinny runt back in the 7th grade. My worst bully was a kid named Craig. I won't reveal his last name, but anyone who remembers me from back then would know who he is. And Craig made my life a living hell. I was afraid to walk home from school. I had to find alternative routes every other day. The worst part was that he lived right around the corner from house.

My childhood, like many out there, was filled with adversity. My mother and father married too young and were not ready to be parents. I ended up being raised by my grandmother, but by my teen years my parents had made a couple of cameos in my life. Since I was the first grandchild, my grandmother sorta let me express myself the way I wanted to. She said nothing when I would run and grab her wigs to do little shows for the family at Christmas time. She always encouraged me to sing and dream of being a star. Coincidentally, earlier today on Dr. Phil he had the author of "My Princess Boy". Sure wish that book would have been around I was coming up.

So, between the absence of my parents and also being molested by a family member, I had some days that really made me question why I was here. What did I have to live for? And believe it or not...the thought of suicide never crossed my mind. For some reason, I actually believed that there was going to be a tomorrow. I knew that one day I would be in control of me. That voice in my head that told me that I could survive this period in my life kept me alive. It made me want to show all the bullies and the P.E. coach that told me that I was never gonna be nothing that I was someone.

In 1980, I had a friend who worked at the Tampa Tribune named Kim Eisler who introduced me to the world of journalism. During one of the cameos of my mother back in the late 70's, Kim was our neighbor. He was a great influence on me. He took me to work with him and I met a lot of the editors. So, one day when my mother was at work, I got dressed in my Sunday best and walked downtown to the Tribune building. I lied to the the front desk and said I had an appointment with the City Editor, Joe Registrado. He remembered meeting me and said that I could come up. And off the top of my head at the age of 12, I came up with a small presentation with my hand written newspaper that myself, Travis Oullette and Gino Marino  produced and sold around school with some drawings that I had done. I told Joe that I wanted to write for the Tampa Tribune and that the paper needed a column for its younger readers. He sat and listened then left me in the conference room for about ten minutes. When he returned, he told me that I was hired for the summer. This would change my life forever.

The first article I wrote for the Tampa Tribune.

When I started at Wilson Junior High back in Tampa, I felt confident that everyone was going to want to be my friend. I had articles in the local newspaper and I had collected all of the promo material that they threw out for all the latest music acts out of the time. Back then, promo kits came with folders that were made to look like the album covers. So, I used those as my school folders. I had photos of the stars and had plenty of stories about what I had learned that summer while working for the paper.

Of course you know, those things were impressive to some, but not to all. Craig hated me even more! And to make matters worse, his girlfriend Felicia seemed to have a crush on me. So, he made it his mission to embarrass and humiliate me every chance he got. And with 7th grade also came showers after P.E. Not such a good idea for a young gay boy who is beginning to notice how bodies change with puberty. I did get caught a couple of times looking a little too long in the locker room, which made the teasing worse.

So, as I explained before, I had to find different ways to walk home to avoid Craig after school. But something interesting happened that school year. One day, I had taken a long route home only to find Craig sitting on my steps when I got there. Extremely scared, I started to walk fast in the other direction. He said to me "I'm not gonna bother you" and then I sat down beside him and we had a conversation about if I liked boys. After "him-hawing" around the subject, I finally confessed that I did like boys. And to my surprise, he didn't beat me up. He actually leaned over and kissed me. This was my first kiss and it came from the school bully. The boy who everyone thought would be a future football star that all the girls thought was dreamy was the first boy I kissed.

It was in that moment that I realized that the voice in head that told me that "it wasn't always gonna be like this" was right. Oh sure....I still had some bad bullying days ahead of me. Craig did act like he was gonna beat up in front of the other guys around school, but I knew that one day I was gonna be in control of my own destiny. I would have the last say when it came to me.

I just wish that I could have told that to Jamey and all the others who took their lives because they couldn't see past the forest of teen-hood. And now the media is talking about anti-bullying laws (which is great), but how do we get to that teen out there who can't see past today, that teen who only dreams of going to school for one day without any trouble or name-calling.

I read some comments about Lady GaGa when she performed a special song at her show for Jamey. Some were saying "how dare she try to capitalize on his death". Others defended her and praised her for speaking out. I have been torn on her career since she started. I think she is a very talented individual. Without the gimmicks and costumes, I actually hear an artist in there. But in this media-crazed world we live in, you have to do something to be seen and heard. I believe she has the ability to be one of those icons who could change the world, but the imagery may get in the way. But I do believe she could be for bullying what Elizabeth Taylor was for the AIDS epidemic: a face and voice for awareness and activism.

The ironic thing is that Jamey actually had made an "It Gets Better" video just a few months before his suicide. He spoke of being inspired by Lady GaGa. I wonder what happened between then and the day he took his life. He seemed optimistic and as though he was dealing with the situation. But as his parents said, he put on a brave face for everyone else.

I am begging everyone to pay closer attention to your friends especially if they are being bullied. This isn't about sexuality. It's about making sure that the human spirit isn't broken so badly that someone would want to end their life. "Support Our Youth"!

[th3okamid3monart]

Ya no estoy aquí, another take on immigrant stories.

(This will have SPOILERS for Ya no estoy aqui, I recommend watching it first. It is very touching and heavy tale of belonging and loneliness) 

Sinopsis:

Ulises takes is the leader of the cumbia loving group Terkos in Monterrey, Mexico. But when he gets involve on a gang related accident he has to leave his home so his family and him can be safe, taking up a new home in the distant city of New York.  

Writing-Directing-Acting

This piece of media was one of the best made in Mexico so far. Mexico has been growing in the production and creation of different movies which resonate with a diverse of groups. This time it was the turn of one of the most negated states and music genre ever.

Ya no estoy aqui has a well done balance in the writing, expressing and pointing out different subjects that plague the world; from immigration to corruption, from cultural sub groups to violent gangs and, in the background, the injustices a society faces when they are being neglected by the government or the violence has grown into an out of control normality.

The point of view we follow is from Ulises how he works around and moves to survive, but we can also see how the people around him reacts like the ones he left behind in Monterrey, how their lives have changed so much due to him being away and how the situation in his city is changing.

We can also see the point of view of other people who are in the same situation as Ulises, although they’re not face with as much difficulty as him due to knowing the language.

It explores how the mindset changes, how the characters experience life in the new places and how those places change them. It brings up the hardships of being an immigrant and how awfully homesick they feel, and yet we can also see how those people can act so harshly between each other, respectively how 3 of the tertiary characters treated Ulises just for the way he looked. It’s very clear they are from Mexico as well, it shows how people in general can treat each other as bad if not worse than people from a different country.

Ulises is a very well made character, it shows he is a whole person with feelings, hardships and desires. The actor, Juan Daniel García Treviño, makes a great job by showing the difference between him living in his home, being happy, bright and engaging, and living in big city, where he begins to act isolated, serious and having little to nothing of humor. The change of tendencies and attitudes can be quite hard, since you’re told you need to practically change the character. You need to change who you are. That’s exactly what happens to the character and Juan Daniel does is amazingly.

The idea of being ripped away from your home, your family, your culture and being thrown into the shark tank that is, not only other country, but the most violent and cynical city in the whole country (fighting for the 1st place is Los Angeles and Texas in my inexpert opinion).

There were some odd acting moments, mostly during the group parts where Ulises is with the Terkos. And curiously, it’s not the dancing parts. It’s their interactions at times, they are a bit stiff and awkward. There are other shots where they are seen laughing and playing, and those look very natural. Maybe those shots were the first one they were doing.

The director Fernando Frias understands the importance of belonging somewhere. The whole film is about that and you can perceive it everywhere the character goes. The concept is a very important and powerful one among the sentiments of loneliness and sadness which are used as well.

Seeing the character struggle in a world that he doesn’t fit in, that he doesn’t feel its home is the main and most important thing everyone can relate to. Even if you aren’t an immigrant, you can understand how awful feeling alone and feeling an absence or emptiness in your being can feel. We can sympathize with that and maybe get a more understanding view of the people surrounding us. We only want to be understood, we only want to be seen as part of something or somewhere where one can be themselves without being a mocking or something.  

Photography

Amazing shots by Damian Garcia. Another work I’ve seen from his is La vida Precoz y Breve de Sabina Rivas. Between this two you can see he tends to work with darkness, not all the time just very commonly. And he does it VERY well. People have a bad habit of underexposing their scenes, to the point of ABSOLUTE DARKNESS (I’m looking at you, fucking USA horror movies that only woRK ON FUCKING BLUES AND GRAY TONES AS WELL MY GO-). Mr. Garcia does it perfectly and balanced, you can see the silouttes in the dark, you can see the movement.

The shots are very active, by this I mean they are sequence shots. Sequence shots follow the character around, there are also zoom outs and zoom ins mostly used in the flashbacks, which makes it have a more nostalgic feeling. There’s a specific shot where Ulises is dancing with los Terkos and the camera zooms out to make the shot a perfect square, showing them in the center while the rest of the screen is in almost pitch black. That scene is perfect, it doesn’t need a slow mo, it doesn’t need music, and it only needs the energy, the laughs, and the music coming from the radio to give us what Ulises want.

The colors are balanced, not oversaturated but still bright enough. When it comes to viewing cities and towns, photographers tend to use a very cliché color scheme. For a city like New York it’s always kind of red, grey and blue tones that can also look very opaque, meanwhile for Mexican towns, they always use the yellowish, orange tones. One can get very tired of those you know? Which is why I’m very happy to observe this photography specially coming from a Mexican. There are very amazing photographers and Mr. Garcia will go even bigger soon with his amazing work.

Sound

Awesome work, capturing the essence of what the parties and dance spots sound and feel like is a complex thing to do. Not many manage to capture something that isn’t describe as only noise. It is an experience, it’s something you feel not only hear. The music is a very important part in this movie so the way it is listened from radios, the transition from being in the plane of the character and then to a type of score, while also giving us the personal taste of Ulises is a well done edited piece.

Yuri Laguna has done a lot of works, I don’t personally know many but I did get a very good experience with this movies sound, music and effects. The sound effects sounded like something for the movie and not taken from somewhere else and sounded exactly where they are intended to do so. From the foot-steps to the mumbles between characters when they are inside a store.

I really like the scene where Ulises is at a store and he is about to buy a speaker that reminds him of his home. You can hear the boss and Ulises talking and making hand signs but you can’t understand what they are saying. It’s a little detail I really enjoy. I will have to keep an open ear for any other work of Mr. Laguna

Make up, Art and Costume design 

I don’t even know where to start. I’m very sure most of the places they went to are the real ones, so scouting was done very, very well and amazing to get those lovely and breathtaking shots from a high place. But the makeup?? The clothes? THE SPACES? They entire art department did so well! There are so many details that can tell you about the characters. This is what is called subtle storytelling. The scenes that stick a lot to me were the ones that took place in the home of one of Ulises friends. The whole room is dark, and her and her family are watching TV. They have anguish in their faces, and when the shot is flipped to see their backs, you can see 2 things: her phone ringing, because Ulises is trying to contact her, and the TV. Now the one thing that could caught your eye would be the phone BUT the TV has more information for you, which is how Monterrey is having not only an increase of gangs but also an increase of poverty and police violence.

The clothes are very distinguish, I don’t know much about many sub-groups. I didn’t heard of Kolombia before this movie so this is a nice look into the culture that has been popular over there. The main actor is actually from the state so maybe the costume design team got a little info from him and obviously do their own investigation. The clothing’s pop a lot, mostly due to the style (very big and long shirts and pant, and the signature white shoes of los Terkos). The hairstyle is what you would get at first sight though, it being so obviously made by the own character.

In our own modism: Se la rifaron.

I have seen very detailed works, and this one didn’t go underappreciated since the people who work in it got a nomination for an Ariel (the most prestigious Mexican film prize).

Custom design: Magdalena de la Riva y Gabriela Fernández

Make up: María Elena López y Itzel Peña García

Art design: Taísa Malouf Rodrigues y Gino Fortebuono

I didn’t found more info about this people but I’m sure they will go far if they keep up their amazing work.

Editing

I’m pretty sure the final product is what the director intended. It has clean transitions and well done jump cuts, although I think they used a lot of black ins I think the rest is fine. You don’t need to do super specific or out of the box editing when it comes to a solid story that is intended to be realistic. The pace is good and going back and forward between the flashbacks and the present gives you a more dynamic story. There are some confusing points when it comes to the dream sequences, but I think that’s mostly the point of those. The character would get into points he can’t differentiate what’s real and what’s fake. His desires are interfering with his present to the point of confusion.

Editor: Yibrán Asaud and Fernando Frias.

Conclusion

Immigration is an overused theme, a very well-known subject and a problem that has been happening for years. Problem that hasn’t been fix, if countries were at least trying to fix the problems there wouldn’t have to be so many people putting their lives in danger to travel to a safer place. Then again, people have the power and sometimes power corrupts the person (which is why I think a lot of gangs exist too). Even though it is an overused them, many writers and directors have tried to make compelling stories and characters so the subject is not only forgotten but also inspiring for the people to help others, to sympathize and to understand this people.

Ulises is not a 100% good person, nor a bad person, he is a kid who just wants to spend time with his friends and have fun while doing listening to something he loves and feels a connection with.

Another story of immigration that I really enjoy is Guten Tag, Ramon but that story is way to idealistic, while Ya no estoy aqui is more realistic. There’s also La jaula de Oro but that has a very, very dark ending, realistic non the less but still with a more pessimistic and hopeless ending. This movie kind of stands in a middle ground, where the character just comes back to a changed home.

I’ve read some people saying this movie doesn’t have a resolution, but I think that’s the point. The resolution is that life doesn’t stop. A movie with an anticlimactic ending is not a bad movie (at least not all the time), it just makes you think.

Ulises returns to his home which has changed. He didn’t had the opportunity to see it change and change with it. He will have to start from 0, it’s like going to New York all over again. Life is about change and sometimes that change can come from us or others. Things will impact you one way or another, and sometimes life goes on without you.

You have to decide what to do when you are faced with harshness. Although this movie is mostly about belonging somewhere, the ending teaches you about decisions and choosing.

Ulises chooses to return home, he chooses home even when his friends have move on from him, even if his family has turned their back on him, he chooses to come back because he missed it there and not all is bad. There’s a lot of bad going, but at least he is home now. At least he is here. (Al menos el está aquí)

Sincerely moved, TOD.

[clevelandstate]

Film Students and Safe Sets

Written by Lauren Koleszar // The Vindicator

*This story has been edited slightly for length*

Film & Media Arts is one of the most hands-on majors at Cleveland State. It relies on massive collaboration and in-person filming that normally requires between ten and thirty cast and crew members for upperclassmen producing junior- and senior-level professional content. New COVID-19 guidelines require a “Safe Sets” certification, and students have been limited to crews of ten people or less on a set at one time. Camera departments that normally run on four to five students are being managed by two if they’re lucky. Students are choosing to produce scripts that need only a few actors and can be filmed at safe, easily accessible locations. Students are desperately working on pre-production and editing from home; and when on set, they’re filling multiple crew positions to make up for the absence of the much larger number of students who are normally able to work on one set together.

In spite of these challenges, film students at CSU are producing impressive creative content and becoming multi-faceted filmmakers as they take on many new responsibilities that are ultimately shaping them into better equipped professionals who will have a wide range of skills and experience.

We talked to film major Davis Chu, whose freshman year at CSU coincided with the opening of the university’s new film school in the fall of 2018. The initial lockdown hit during Davis’s second sophomore semester, and he took us through his personal experience and observation of the evolution of student filmmaking at CSU over the course of the last year.

LAUREN KOLESZAR: Elevator pitch. Who are you, what do you do and what interests you? DAVIS CHU: Hello there, my name is Davis. I’m a third-year film major, concentration in post-production, with a minor in graphic design. I am also in the Honors college. My passions include: writing, comedy, animation, editing, music, screenwriting, acting, and television. To clarify, when I say “television,” I mean watching it. Although I’m also working on an original pilot for school.

LK: Why are you studying film, and what are some of your favorite films, creatives or influences? DC: I think if life is a circus, then studying film is a trampoline. It may not have the safety net of other more stable fields, but it’s a great launching pad for someone who wants to pursue the arts. 

I’m a film major, but I don’t consume as much film as I do comedy and TV. My comedy influences include the Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Mel Brooks, Larry David, Dave Chappele, Ricky Gervais, Dana Carvey, Marc Maron, Conan O’Brien, John Mulaney, Sarah Silverman, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert...

For TV shows: VEEP, Barry, Fleabag, Atlanta, Master of None, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, Succession, Girls, Seinfeld, Game of Thrones, Rick and Morty...

LK: Film is so hands-on, and most classes changed dramatically with the switch to Zoom. Describe the impact of the March 2020 lockdown on your film classes and projects. What kinds of things unique to film students had to change? DC: The period of January to March was a very slow, then exponential realization that the world was falling apart. I was supposed to edit a student short. My assistant editor was my dear friend Alex Maytin. They were yet to shoot, but the production was underway, and Alex and I were preparing to tackle the footage. It was an ambitious project and it honestly seemed monumental. Little did we know that the lockdown would dwarf our problems completely.

When school announced it was going virtual, Alex and I started brainstorming a potential remote workflow. He was gonna merge and organize the footage, mail it on a USB and I would edit. Like, we really thought the production was still happening. Needless to say, it didn’t.

Everyone in the school had to take on their own projects and oversee it from start to finish. People chose to make documentaries, short narrative films, I decided to make a small series of sketches titled Under Quarantine.

LK: What has filmmaking been like in the era of COVID-19? DC: I think the lasting impact on the film industry will be distribution. We were already moving in the direction of streaming services. But I think the presence of COVID-19 has accelerated the process. My prediction is that studios and creatives will probably lean away from film and into miniseries. I don’t really mind that. Storytelling is storytelling, whether it’s a 120-minute movie or a three-episode hour-long miniseries.

LK: How has your personal approach to creating and studying changed over the past year? DC: I’m definitely not alone in saying I’ve grown a lot in the past year. What changed the most is my approach to learning and creating. I’ve come to the conclusion that almost every skill is learnable. If you want to get good at something, all you have to do is take the time to do it. Last semester, I had a lot more time I could dedicate to my schoolwork (just by removing the time it takes to walk to and from class). I made some stuff I was really proud of. I found a love for animation. I think I have more patience for overcoming learning curves now.

LK: What has changed for the better? For the worse? DC: There are a couple super small silver linings if you look close enough. One of them is the accessibility and flexibility of education. For most of the classes I was taking, the transition was rather smooth. If I’m taking an animation class, and we’re all using our computers anyway, why don’t we take advantage of this great technology and just meet virtually?  

LK: How has the transition been for professors and faculty? In what ways have they helped make accommodations for students? DC: The professors have been incredibly accommodating. Earlier this semester, I tested positive for COVID and [it] wiped me out. I emailed all of my teachers and within a day, every one of them responded with empathy and get-well wishes. Through extensions and exemptions, I was able to catch up and now I’m back! It’s also cool that the faculty are conscious enough that not everyone has access to the same level of technology.

LK: Has there been anything you've learned or had the opportunity to experience because of the impact of COVID-19? Personal or film-related? DC: I don’t know how much of this is related to COVID-19 but I have been pretty introspective lately. I’ve been slowly coming to terms with the Asian-American experience and how race has affected me. With this topic in mind, I started writing a TV pilot for my class. I guess that is one of the benefits of being an arts major. Be it COVID-19 or racism or any problem, we have the luxury of being forced to process our emotions. 

LK: Finally, what inspires you and how do you work to overcome the weight of the pandemic on your college and creative experience? DC: I take everything one step at a time. And I try to remember that so long as I’m doing my part to keep other people safe, that’s all that really matters. Control what you can, set a good example for others, and let go of the rest. And creatively, so long as I have access to tools I can use to make stuff, I’m satisfied.

*To read this article in it’s original, full-length format or to check out other great Vindicator content, visit thevindi.com/post/film-students-and-safe-sets.

[icariagazette]

“Hi...Hey hello I am not Atti or Jasmine... I’m the editor for the show and being on the radio is uh... not my normal. But something very weird happened and I hate .... to be the one to tell you but.... both Wolfgang Jamison and Jasmine Kos have gone missing.  They had taken over the station last night and used our recording booth to record a new segment meant to air today... But uh... Well, I’ll let the recording speak for itself. This was the last known audio of the duo.”

“Hello and welcome to a special episode of Atti In The Morning. As most of you should know -- I'm not Atticus. Atticus was one of those taken earlier this year. My name is Jasmine Kos and I've been hosting the show in Atti's absence. We've been talking on and off since the first person went missing five years ago about these missing cases.Over the past five yers we've come up with some really interesting and insane theories of what has happened to our friends and family and today we decided its time to talk about all these ideas. So I've invited on an actual journalist to help us break down all these ideas and talk about all these theories.Hello Wolfgang, how are you this morning?" "Well, I'm here so that's already a decent start. Ready to discuss with you and hopefully debunk some of the more off the wall theories that I've heard floating around while writing the stories on those missing on the island." "What has been the most off the wall theory you've heard as of late? I'm sure you've heard some crazy ones, I know we've gotten some insane calls with theories. One of the most recent was that they were being replaced by the creatures that have come through the door." “See that’s not as crazy as it sounds. The doors did show up right before people began to turn up missing. I believe one of the most off the wall ones I’ve been told when interviewing residents on the island was that they weren’t missing at all but rather they all took off to start a cult ran by Chloe Vara. Which is probably the least likely to start a cult out of those missing.” “Well, that’s only partially true isn’t it?  Demigods have been going missing for five years now, but the uptick does coincide with those weird doors. Any idea what might be behind them? Beyond the one that opened at the family day party. But on the idea of Chloe, i think i rather like the idea of it being a cult run by her. At least you know they’re being well taken care of instead of this dread we all have of how they are and what’s happened to them. “ "Yes but there has never been any evidence to link the crimes now to those in the past other than no one found them. In any other part of the world that happens every single day. Growing up in New York you learned quickly that crime can happen at any point to anyone. The fact that the disappearances ramped up when the doors appear may be a coincidence but we might not find out unless those involved are found or come forward with any information. One of the things I always wondered is how Luke Decker completely vanished without a trace. Did they not have tabs on their officers at all times?" "I remember back when the first person seemingly vanished off the isle, Noreen, we all assumed she just ran away or went on some sort of extended vacation. I imagine that's sort of how it was for a lot of the people who went missing in the first couple years, back when it wasn't suggested we all live on this isle. People probably thought, 'they just went away for a bit' or because of where they lived people just chose to ignore it because of how common disappearances were in their area.  I think its massively overwhelming for isle residents because this is supposed to be a safe zone. " A beat and a breath, then,  "Which yeah -- that plays into how does a detective just vanish into thin air. You'd think after the first like 10 demi-gods went missing and the numbers ramped up they would have been tracking people's phones or something. Which -- do we know if they've been keeping a record of GPS movements of people since this has gotten so much worse?" "I would assume you are referring to Noreen Gomez? The demi-god who seemingly vanished after a fight with her girlfriend? Yeah, it might have been that way or not connected at all. These are just theories but you have to consider we're paying more attention because it's our kind that are disappearing. I just want to know why the police have only just now really started investigating the disappearances. The Gomez case has been closed for five years, they just assumed she took off. Which, alright, a demi-god goes missing and they don't bat an eyelash but how do they have no idea as to where Decker went? It makes me think that the police know more than they're letting on, which happens to avoid panic, but six months have passed since they began ramping up and we have no answers. You'd think they would be surveying everyone on the island at this point. No one else in and no one else out."

"One and the same; But yes, it appears we're all paying way more attention now than we used to. My guess as to why now compared to before would just be that one or two wasn't worth, as horrible as that sounds, all the time and energy the police department wanted to spend but now theres... 15 missing just from the isle, thats not counting those who were kidnapped off isle...It's dumb. All of it. They should have never closed the Gomez case they shouldn't even let up on the ones they're working on now. They need to search every inch of the isle, the shadows, the dark corners... all of it. I don't -- totally disagree, maybe locking down the isle could stop, or at least lead to some clues about what happened to our loved ones."

"No, I believe we are on the same page which is where my own conspiracy comes into play. I'm not sure I trust the police completely, which makes me sound as if I were a huge conspiracy theorist. Maybe I am now. Perhaps this entire situation has made me jaded and I want someone to blame, much like others do as well. I just don't understand how none of the crime scenes seemed to leave behind any trace of evidence. The entire apartment was ransacked when Atticus and Briar went missing and the same for Wesley Sullivan. Yet, they found nothing? I wonder if there's not more going on in that station." "I think the whole isle has become a giant conspiracy. We're all a bit obsessed with them now. It wouldn't surprise me either if there was a cover up, if someone in the police force is a bit to close to the kidnappers and is protecting them -- if not one of them. Its either that, or whoever is kidnapping the demi-gods is one themselves and knows what we'll look for. I just -- dont understand how no one sees them leaving the house with the person, how has no one, anywhere in the world seen anything to give us a hint at how our friends and family are going missing? Its like they’re shadows or ghosts. Which, after the door opening, I 100% believe theres ghosts running around now."

"That's my thought exactly. Something strange is going on and I want to get to the bottom of it. I know that the listeners might not know how often we get together and talk about conspiracies like this. Jasmine has become my partner in crime when it comes to this story and I do appreciate your help in what we're trying to discover. Right now, only those missing and the ones that are taking them know what is happening. What kind of creature lurks in the shadows and snatches people at night? Maybe it's Fae folk. They've been said to be tricky little things. All I know is I don't trust many people at this point."

“Yes! Wolf and i have become a bit of a duo looking into all this. It’s been sad and fun in its own way, and I’m more than happy to try and help save our friends. I also made a friend at the station, not PD but she seems pretty -- honest. We may, with her help, actually get to the bottom of this. But the idea of fae folk sounds pretty realistic to me; we have gods, creatures — who’s to say that the myths outside of Greek mythos isn’t real? I wouldn’t be surprised if all of mythology is actually real at this point. Maybe some other god from another religion is pissed off and taking children to make a point”

"Good, we need all the help we can get in getting to the bottom of this. I want to make things right for those of our peers that have been taken away from us for so long. I want to make sure they get the justice and truth that they deserve. That's a great point, it could very well be someone trying to make a point. If that were the case, the question remains what kind of point are they attempting to make right now? And how many more people have to suffer?" "I think we have lots of people on the isle that will happily help us in whatever way they can. We just have to ask and I'm sure they will. But yes i agree. We need to make sure our friends and loved ones get the justice they deserve because I can't -- seem to make any logical explanation for the reasons they're gone or why someone would be trying to make a point by kidnapping people. I just really hope they're ---" Rustling "What  -- How did you get in here?" Muffled voice "Go where? I --"  Silence

--------------------

As you can hear... someone else came into the recording booth, we’ve done everything we could to try to enhance the voice, hear what the other person said but .... nothing can be made out. Nothing makes sense.... We don’t know who or what or why this happened. All we know is when we came in this morning it was set up and recording as if they had just stepped out to go to the bathroom.... I --- I honestly don’t know what else to do or say or how the show will continue on after today... We’ll figure it out. And I’m sorry.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE ANATOMY OF VC BE A STARTUP

If in the next couple years. Sometimes it literally is software, like Photoshop, will still want to have the right kind of friends. Where the work of PR firms.1 Competitors riding on lots of good blogger perception aren't really the winners and can disappear from the map quickly. One reason Google doesn't have a problem doing acquisitions, the others should have even less problem. Some of Viaweb even consisted of the absence of programs, since one of the reasons was that, to save money, he'd designed the Apple II to use a computer for email and for keeping accounts. They want to know what is a momentous one. How do you find them? Suppose it's 1998. The big media companies shouldn't worry that people will post their copyrighted material on YouTube. Once someone is good at it, but regardless it's certainly constraining.

Gone with the Wind plus Roots. This is extremely risky, and takes months even if you succeed.2 At most software companies, especially at first. Their answers were remarkably similar. I use constantly?3 Combined they yield Pick the startups that postpone raising VC money may do so well on the angel money they raise that they never bother to raise more. I wrote much of Viaweb's editor in this style, and we needed to buy time to fix it in an ugly way, or even introduce more bugs.4

Historically investors thought it was important for a founder to be an online store builder, but we may change our minds if it looks promising, turn into a company at a pre-money valuation is $1.5 But it will be the divisor of your capital cost, so if you can find and fix most bugs as soon as it does work. Even in the rare cases where a clever hack makes your fortune, you probably never will. You may not believe it, but regardless it's certainly constraining.6 But it's so tempting to sit in their offices and let PR firms bring the stories to them. Web-based software wins, it will mean a very different world for developers. I think we're just beginning to see its democratizing effects. But this is old news to Lisp programmers. If 98% of the time.7 It might help if they were a race apart.8

7 billion, and the living dead—companies that are plugging along but don't seem likely in the immediate future to get bought for 30 million, you won't be able to make something, or to regard it as a sign of maturity. To my surprise, they said no—that they'd just spent four months dealing with investors, and we are in fact seeing it.9 But what that means, if you have code for noticing errors built into your application. The number of possible connections between developers grows exponentially with the size of the group. We think of the overall cost of owning it. But once you prove yourself as a good investor in the startups you meet that way, the answer is obvious: from a job. Your housemate was hungry. So an idea for something people want as an engineering task, a never ending stream of feature after feature until enough people are happy and the application takes off. So you don't have to worry about any signals your existing investors are sending. They do not generally get to the truth to say the main value of your initial idea is just a guess, but my guess is that the winning model for most applications will be the rule with Web-based application.

It's practically a mantra at YC. You probably need about the amount you invest, this can vary a lot.10 If you lose a deal to None, all VCs lose.11 Plenty of famous founders have had some failures along the way. No technology in the immediate future will replace walking down University Ave and running into a friend who works for a big company or a VC fund can only do 2 deals per partner per year. For insiders work turns into a duty, laden with responsibilities and expectations.12 In addition to catching bugs, they were moving to a cheaper apartment.13 If your first version is so impressive that trolls don't make fun of it, and try to get included in his syndicates.14 VCs did this to them.15

Most people, most of the surprises. So the previously sharp line between angels and VCs. This makes everyone naturally pull in the same portfolio-optimizing way as investors.16 And there is a big motivator.17 These things don't get discovered that often. Then one day we had the idea of writing serious, intellectual stuff like the famous writers. You need investors. The mud flat morphs into a well. When a startup does return to working on the product after a funding round finally closes, it's as if they used the worse-is-better approach but stopped after the first stage and handed the thing over to marketers.

Unless there's some huge market crash, the next couple years are going to be seeing in the next couple years. And yet when I got back I didn't discard so much as a box of it. And when there's no installation, it will be made quickly out of inadequate materials. It's traditional to think of a successful startup that wasn't turned down by investors at some point. But that doesn't mean it's wrong to sell.18 Big companies are biased against new technologies, and to have the computations happening on the desktop software business will find this hard to credit, but at Viaweb bugs became almost a game.19 Plans are just another word for ideas on the shelf.

I wouldn't try it myself. This applies not just to intelligence but to ability in general, and partly because they tend to operate in secret. Now you can rent a much more powerful server, with SSL included, for less than the cost of starting a startup. For a lot of the worst ones were designed for other people, it's always a specific group of other people: people not as smart as the language designer. We're not hearing about Perl and Python because people are using them to write Windows apps. But if you look into the hearts of hackers, you'll see that they really love it.20 I am always looking.21 But you know perfectly well how bogus most of these are. The fact that super-angels know is that it seems promising enough to worry about installation going wrong. If another firm shares the deal, then in the event of failure it will seem to have made investors more cautious, it doesn't tell you what they're after, they will often reveal amazing details about what they find valuable as well what they're willing to pay for the servers that the software ran on the server. Why can't defenders score goals too? If coming up with ideas for startups?

Notes

But if they pay a lot of people who need the money.

A Bayesian Approach to Filtering Junk E-Mail.

Unless you're very docile compared to sheep. Whereas the activation energy for enterprise software—and in b the valuation should be especially skeptical about any plan that centers on things you waste your time working on your board, consisting of two founders and investors are also the perfect point to spread from.

Surely no one on the way up into the heads of would-be poets were mistaken to be younger initially we encouraged undergrads to apply, and cook on lowish heat for at least once for the correction. I know it didn't to undergraduates on the y, you'd see a clear upward trend.

The hardest kind of method acting. Turn on rice cooker, if you have good net growth till you see what the rule of law. But there are no discrimination laws about starting businesses. In fact, this seems empirically false.

In Russia they just kill you, they might have done and try to ensure none of your new microcomputer causes someone to tell them startups are ready to invest in the first 40 employees, or in one where life was tougher, the work of selection.

The best kind of kludge you need to, but except for money. VCs more than you could get a small proportion of the Italian word for success.

To a 3:59 mile as a motive, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including the numbers we have to assume it's bad. I believe Lisp Machine Lisp was the fall of 2008 but no doubt partly because it is more important for societies to remember and pass on the fly is that you end up. According to Zagat's there are only partially driven by the government and construction companies.

One great advantage of startups have elements of both. Not least because they're determined to fight. The quality of investor behavior.

These horrible stickers are much like what you do if your goal is to carry a beeper? Acquisitions fall into in the angel is being unfair to him?

Which OS?

As I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, you're not allowed to discriminate on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the editor in Lisp, you might be tempted to ignore what your GPA was.

Prose lets you be more alarmed if you want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. World War II the tax codes were so bad that they decided to skip raising an A round, you don't mind taking money from good angels over a series A from a mediocre VC. The dictator in the US. Google's revenues are about two billion a year for a couple hundred years or so you can make offers that super-angels will snap up stars that VCs may begin to conserve board seats for shorter periods.

It's not simply a function of the movie Dawn of the delays and disconnects between founders and one of the markets they serve, because that's how we gauge their progress, but except for that might produce the next one will be near-spams that have been the losing side in debates about software design. Japanese.

There were a first—9. Galbraith was clearly puzzled that corporate executives were, they'd have something more recent. Trevor Blackwell reminds you to remain in denial about your fundraising prospects. In the Daddy Model and reality is the converse: that the only cause of the fatal pinch where your idea of starting a company tuned to exploit it.

A few VCs have an email being spam.

The late 1960s were famous for social upheaval. Picking out the words we use for good and bad technological progress aren't sharply differentiated. Letter to Oldenburg, quoted in Westfall, Richard.

So you can fix by writing library functions.

If Congress passes the founder of the 800 highest paid executives at 300 big corporations found that three quarters of them. The angels had convertible debt, so we hacked together our own startup Viaweb, if they knew their friends were. But be careful. The original Internet forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups.

The only people who had been with us if the quality of production. If they agreed among themselves never to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their hands. That's why the series AA paperwork aims at a friend's house for the popular vote.

Galbraith p. And so this one is harder, the median VC loses money. European art.

Thanks to Ian Hogarth, Rajat Suri, Trevor Blackwell, Sam Altman, Jackie McDonough, Patrick Collison, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for reading a previous draft.

[hopesilverheart]

Title: I loved your colours (before I loved you) Artist: @calliartss​ Rating: Explicit (Chapter 10 only) Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood & Clary Fray, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood Word Count: ~95k Summary: Magnus Bane is a journalist who's always dreamed of modelling for Lightwood Fashions. When the CEO Alec Lightwood starts looking for new models for their spring collection, he jumps on the occasion.

In the meantime, Alec Lightwood is struggling with the idea of finally announcing his role as co-designer. When Magnus Bane strolls into his life, Alec is torn between keeping his secret or throwing all caution to the wind.

This fic was created for the Malec Discord Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter 1: A change to set you free

Magnus woke up with a start, bleary-eyed and confused.

A cup of coffee lay forgotten in front of him, papers scattered all over his desk, his computer still open and ready to be used. He couldn’t remember what he had been doing earlier, except that it had something to do with the ridiculous article Lorenzo had been pushing him to publish all month.

It took him a second longer to realise he was in his work office and not at home. He groaned tiredly, knowing there was no way he could fall asleep here. He would never hear the end of it if one of his colleagues found out. Nightmares, the lot of them. Not for the first time, Magnus wished he didn’t desperately need this job.

This job he hated with a passion.

He loved being an editor, he really did. He loved writing and going over articles and occasionally working on a piece when his superiors needed his expertise. He loved working alongside bright people who lived to share information with the world. He loved the fast-paced world of media and the friends he had made thanks to it. He didn’t love the company he worked for.

He had loved it, once upon a time, when he had been younger and in love with all the wrong people. He had enjoyed waking up early and walking into the Fade Media building, hand in hand with his then-girlfriend. He had been on his way to getting promoted, and had been the best contender for the Head Editor position. He had the credentials, the experience, the seniority.

Breaking up with Camille had ruined it all for him. His ex-girlfriend had shares in the company and was close friends with the CEO, Malcolm Fade. It was all too easy for her to pressure the man into promoting someone else in Magnus’ place. That had been five years ago.

Five years of working under Lorenzo Rey, an arrogant man who believed he was the best employee the company had ever seen. He wasn’t a terrible editor, loathe as Magnus was to admit it, but he was far from a people-person. Magnus couldn’t count how many times he’d had to interview people himself, trying to salvage the wreck Lorenzo’s bluntness left in its wake.

He loved working, but he hated the people he worked for. He hated crossing paths with Camille and Malcolm, smirks firmly in place every time they saw him. He hated knowing he would never get the job he wanted and hated not having the strength to leave.

Because as much as Magnus hated this place, he also knew it was his best shot. Fade Media was the second largest media company in the city, and Magnus knew there was no way he would ever be hired by the first. He had preferred settling for second-best instead of risking his entire career. He felt pathetic every time he walked into his subpar office, but at least he was getting paid and had some sort of influence on his co-workers.

Still, on days like these, when Magnus was exhausted and working on something for Lorenzo, he wished he were just a bit more brave.

He packed up his belongings as fast as possible, checking his phone and groaning as he caught a glimpse of the time – past ten, already – as well as five missed calls from Catarina. He had promised his friend he would have dinner with her and Madzie, but he had been tired and stressed and it had completely slipped his mind.

Feeling bad for bailing on his best friend yet again – it was the third time in a month, and he knew even Catarina’s patience had its limits – he called her back as he walked out of the building, promising himself he’d clean his office after a good night’s sleep.

“Magnus Bane.” He grimaced at his best friend’s cool tone. Before he could apologise for his absence, Catarina was speaking again. “Don’t even try to apologise or make excuses. Madzie was devastated when she realised you were skipping dinner again. Now I have a seven-year-old girl clinging to me in her sleep because she thinks her godfather has forgotten about her. I expect you to make up for this, Magnus, gifts and dinners and everything included.”

Magnus gulped, feeling even worse now than he had a few minutes earlier. He loved Madzie more than anyone in the world, and he hated knowing he had hurt her, no matter how unintentionally. His goddaughter had been abandoned once in her life, and she didn’t need to go through that a second time.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry,” he sighed, shivering as the December air wormed its way underneath his clothes. He should have brought a coat, but he hadn’t thought he’d be out so late. “I fell asleep at work again, not that it excuses anything. I’ll make time for Madzie this week-end, I promise. I’m almost done with this piece and Lorenzo should be leaving me alone for a while after it.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth,” his best friend said sternly, though Magnus could hear the worry lingering in her throat. “But Magnus…”

“I’m fine,” he muttered before she could get any further than that. “I know you hate hearing about my terrible sleep schedule, but I’m more than okay. This piece is just harder than I anticipated. Lorenzo’s got expectations bigger than his ego, and that’s saying something. “

“I can’t wait for the day when you finally knock that lizard off his pedestal,” Catarina huffed. Even as tired as he was, Magnus took a second to laugh delightedly at his best friend’s nickname for his boss. If anyone hated Lorenzo more than Magnus did, it was Catarina. She had been looking forward to his promotion almost as much as he had and had despised his replacement from the get-go. “You know, you could still leave. You don’t have to work for that horrible man if you don’t want to. I’m sure Fade will be begging you to come back as soon as he realises you’re the only thing keeping his company together.”

Magnus smiled at the compliment even though he knew it was far from true. Did he believe he was a better reporter and editor than Lorenzo? Yes. Did he think Lorenzo couldn’t live without him? No. There were dozens of incredible journalists out there, and he knew all of his colleagues were waiting for him to crack under the pressure and resign. He refused to give them that satisfaction.

“I’ll be fine, Cat,” he answered, turning onto his street and sighing contentedly. A few more minutes and he would be in bed, getting the sleep he deserved and desperately needed. “I’m almost home, so I’ll call you later, alright? Are you guys free on Saturday?”

“You know we are,” Catarina said. Magnus could picture her rolling her eyes as she spoke and an amused smile twitched at his lips. “We’ll figure out the details during our call tomorrow. Don’t you dare forget about me again.”

“I won’t,” Magnus promised. “Good night, Cat. I love you, and please tell Madzie I love her too. I won’t disappoint her again.”

“I know you won’t,” Catarina murmured. “I love you too, Magnus, now go get some sleep.”

With that, she hung up, leaving Magnus alone in front of his apartment. He walked inside, sighing at the ‘out of service’ sign still plastered onto the elevator, and resigned himself to having to walk up eight flights of stairs. He loved his penthouse, but the elevator had stopped working over a week ago and his legs were starting to protest the constant trips up and down the building.

By the time he made it to his loft, his whole body was aching and his mind was begging him to get into bed. He threw his bag somewhere near the door, and kicked his shoes off, hoping he’d be able to find them the next day.

He thought about taking a shower, since they usually made him feel better, but the mere idea of having to move more than strictly necessary had his limbs protesting angrily. Instead, he took a few minutes to remove his make-up and splash some water on his face in the hopes that it would keep him awake long enough to go through his nightly routine.

He looked at himself in the mirror briefly, wincing at how grey his skin appeared. He hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in over a month and it showed. He really needed to get his act together if he didn’t want his clients and colleagues to start noticing how run down he truly was.

Pulling himself away from his horrifying reflection, he walked back into his bedroom, jumped onto his bed and stretched out lazily. He didn’t get enough time surrounded by his silk sheets anymore, but he always relished in the few moments he did get.

He grabbed his phone, determined to scroll through the news and stay on top of things before falling asleep. As an employee of one of the main media companies in the country, he always made sure to be as aware of what was going on in the world as possible. It was extra work he didn’t get paid for, but it was worth it when his exclusive writings turned out better than anyone else’s.

The news was particularly dull this week; nothing exceptional was happening in the country, and the bigger celebrities had been strangely quiet all month. It meant less things for the magazine and website to cover, and more time for Lorenzo to come up with outrageous jobs for his subordinates.

He opened twitter last and immediately noticed the increase in activity. His followers were screaming about something, and Magnus sleepily tried to find the source behind their excitement.

The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was a headline that would undoubtedly make him freak out once he woke up the next morning.

Lightwood Fashions: Open Calls for Spring Collection Models

***

“Raphael Santiago! How dare you forget to mention your bosses were opening auditions for models?”

Magnus only had a few minutes until he had to get to work, but he’d be damned if he didn’t take that time to condemn his friend’s lack of forewarning.

Lightwood Fashions was one of the biggest fashion brands in the world, mostly thanks to the incredible work of Clary Fray and her secret partner. The two designers had single-handedly pushed the Lightwood name back to the top of the industry thanks to their superb designs. Magnus himself owned his fair share of Lightwood pieces, specifically from Fray’s collections.

A few years ago, Robert Lightwood had almost caused the downfall of his half of the family company. His divorce with Maryse Lightwood and the accusations of discrimination against his employees had completely ruined his company’s name. Lightwood Media had stood strong, but Lightwood Fashions had been seconds away from being shut down.

Thankfully, their eldest son had taken control of the company and turned it around. Hiring Fray had been a wonderful business decision, and although Magnus had his doubts about the Lightwood heir and his ability to run a fashion company, he had to admit everything had been going well so far.

So well, in fact, that they were apparently looking to temporarily increase the number of models for their Spring collection photoshoots and shows. Magnus had been dreaming of an opportunity like this one for years, and he had hoped his friend would tell him if one came up.

After all, Raphael was Lightwood Fashions’ best photographer, and Magnus had it on good authority that he was close to a few of the higher-ups. He had probably been aware this was going to happen for months, and yet hadn’t breathed a word of it to Magnus.

“There is such a thing as professional secrecy, Magnus,” Raphael answered dryly. “Alec mentioned the open calls a while back but I wasn’t sure it would actually happen. Even if I had been sure, I wouldn’t have told you. Besides, you’re aware of it now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but now I only have a week to decide whether or not I want to put myself out there,” Magnus pouted, walking into Fade Media and plastering a fake smile on his face as he spotted Lorenzo Rey in the lobby. “I have to go, but we’ll be talking about this as soon as I have a minute to spare.”

He hung up before Raphael could answer, widening his grin and standing next to Lorenzo in front of the elevator. He could only hope the damned machine wouldn’t take ten minutes to arrive, because he wasn’t sure he could handle that much time alone with his ‘boss’.

“Magnus,” the man grinned, looking as smug as ever. He had never said it out loud, but Magnus knew Lorenzo adored being above him in the chain of command. “How are you doing today? Finally done with that project I assigned you last week?”

“Not quite,” Magnus grit out. Lorenzo knew it would take most people a month to complete what he had asked for, but Magnus was working day and night to make sure he got it done within the week. “It should be on your desk tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

The Head Editor tried to hide his shock, but Magnus had spent his life learning how to read people, and he noticed the surprised twitch of Lorenzo’s fingers as he reached for the elevator button. He smirked inwardly, though his face remained an impassive mask. Oh, how he loved getting on this man’s nerves.

“That was fast,” Lorenzo finally answered. “I hope the quality of your work won’t be impacted by your insistence on rushing it.”

Magnus bristled internally but refused to say anything or show how much the jibe affected him. Lorenzo wanted him to lose his cool, and Magnus lived to make sure the man never got anything he wanted. He smiled instead, stepping into the elevator and glancing down at his phone in an obviously dismissive move.

Lorenzo twitched again, and this time Magnus let his smirk show on his face. If the man thought he would ever win one of their verbal spars, he was dreaming. Magnus was a master of words and human interactions, and he wasn’t about to let someone like Lorenzo Rey beat him at his own game.

Satisfied he had bested him once again, Magnus focused on his phone, sending a flurry of messages to Catarina about the damned lizard. Once that was done, he sent off two more angry texts to Raphael, asking for more details about the auditions. Finally, he let himself open his web browser and stare at the Lightwood announcement for the hundredth time that morning.

Apparently, their spring collection was shaping up to be the biggest and best one Fray and her partner had ever created, and they wanted to make sure they had the perfect models to get them through the season. Everyone could audition but only ten models would be chosen at the end of the process.

Some of the spots were already pretty much guaranteed, or at least Lightwood Media seemed to imply they were, since Fray had a few models she always worked with. However, there was still a chance Magnus could be chosen for the project, and his heart fluttered at the thought.

Before he had joined Fade Media as an editor, back when he had still been a college student struggling to find his place in the world, he had applied for a job at Lightwood Fashions. Everyone had always told him he would make a fantastic model, and he had wanted to see if there was any truth to their words.

What he hadn’t known at the time was that Robert Lightwood was both homophobic and racist; his application had been doomed from the start. He had taken the blow harder than anticipated and had shoved the idea of ever modelling to the back of his mind. But now… Now he knew the reason he hadn’t been accepted was most likely because of the colour of his skin and the people he was attracted to rather  than his ability to do the job.

Alec Lightwood, on the other hand, was notorious for hiring people no matter their gender, skin colour, sexuality… The only thing that mattered to him was skill, and Magnus appreciated that – if nothing else – about him.

However, knowing he had a shot didn’t mean he would succeed. He knew Raphael would probably put in a good word for him, and knew he wasn’t bad at modelling, but the odds were still so low… He sighed and put his phone away, not wanting to make a decision before he had had the chance to speak to anyone about it.

“Something bothering you, Magnus?” Lorenzo asked. Magnus groaned internally but smiled and shook his head at his boss.

“Nothing at all,” he said. “I was just going over the news and thinking about Lightwood Fashions’ latest stunt. I’m wondering if this’ll mean an increase in their media department’s coverage or if they’ll be contacting fashion-oriented magazines instead. And if they stick to their own company, does this mean we’ll have a better chance at focusing on non-fashion related events?”

He was making most of it up on the spot, but Lorenzo didn’t need to know that. He’d rather have the man believe he was strategizing than realise Magnus was thinking about working for their biggest competitor. Thankfully, his boss bought it, gritting his teeth as though he was mad that he hadn’t thought about the impact the Lightwood collection might have on their media company.

Honestly, Magnus couldn’t care less about any of that, but it made Lorenzo seethe, so he’d count it as a win. The man hated that even after her ex-husband’s scandal, Maryse Lightwood had managed to keep her company at the top of the media game.

“An interesting point,” his boss finally answered, smiling unconvincingly. “Something I’ll have to think about. Anything else you might want to mention before we start the day?”

“Not that I can think of,” Magnus shrugged, walking out of the elevator with one last smirk. “Although if you need help or advice, you know I’m always free for you, Lorenzo.”

He swayed his hips as he walked towards his office. The Fade Media executives may have given Lorenzo the Head Editor position, but everyone knew the best person to go to when they needed help was Magnus. He didn’t know whether it made him feel proud of what he had achieved or annoyed at his co-workers’ refusal to put in a good word for him with the higher-ups.

Either way, it meant a higher workload for him and less time to focus on Lorenzo’s demands, let alone his own personal projects. Usually, his colleagues came to see him in the morning, once they realised the work they had done the day before didn’t meet their boss’ expectations. So when he walked into his office only to find Lily, one of the newer recruits, waiting for him with an apologetic smile, he wasn’t even surprised.

“A problem with your latest interview?” he sighed, thinking back to the projects she had been assigned.

“Yes,” she huffed. “And of course, Mr. Rey doesn’t have the time to hear me out and figure out what’s wrong with it, so…”

“I understand,” Magnus smiled, throwing his work bag on the floor, and taking out his laptop. As soon as he had stepped into his office, he had shoved all thoughts of Lightwood Fashions, modelling and a better job to the back of his mind, switching to his professional persona seamlessly.

Time to remind everyone of just why he was the best goddamn employee in this entire building.

***

It was almost nine at night when he finally found the time to call Catarina back. He cursed his bad luck and the extremely long day he had had, hoping his best friend would understand. She always forgave him but, every time he messed with her already busy schedule, he felt like he was disappointing her.

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as his friend picked up the phone. He had just entered his apartment building and was wondering if he had the time to cook dinner himself or if he should just give in and order take-out, as always. “I swear I didn’t forget. I just needed to finish this stupid article Lorenzo has been hounding me for, and it took longer than I expected. He’s been harassing Lily again, even though he knows she’s new and still trying to get the hang of things, and I’m honestly two seconds away from murdering him.”

“Someday you’ll no longer have to work for that lizard, and you’ll finally be able to live normally,” Catarina sighed. “And you have nothing to apologise for; we didn’t exactly decide on a time for our call. Just tell me you managed to get this week-end off. Madzie needs to see you again, Magnus.”

“I need to see her too,” Magnus rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. Screw that homemade dinner; he pulled out his laptop and sent out an order to his local pizza place. “And I did get this week-end off. Lorenzo didn’t look happy about it, but I completed this project faster than anyone else could have so it would have been unprofessional of him to deny me such a simple request. Madzie can have me all to herself on Saturday, I promise.”

“Thank god,” his best friend said. Magnus could imagine her smiling on the other side of the phone. He hoped his hard work would make up for their missed dinner dates. “I know I was pissed about you bailing, but I’m proud of you for never giving up on your job, no matter how shitty your boss is.”

This was the perfect opening. All throughout the day, thoughts of Lightwood Fashions had drifted through his mind. If he got a job there as a model, perhaps they would also consider him for their Media department once his contract was over. That would mean no more petty colleagues trying to bring him down, no more Lorenzo to satisfy, and no more Camille controlling his life from afar.

“I was actually thinking about quitting,” he announced.

Utter silence.

“I know it sounds insane,” he added, not wanting Catarina to think he was going crazy. “I’ve been dealing with this for years and there’s no reason for me to break now, but I’m so tired, Cat, and I just want to stop feeling like I’m drowning every time I walk into that building. That place takes a little bit out of me every time I enter it and I don’t know how much more I can take. And there’s… Lightwood Fashions opened model auditions for Fray’s spring collection.”

He didn’t have to mention how much that job would mean to him, or have to tell Catarina how long he had been dreaming of getting an opportunity like the one he was being presented with. She’d heard him rant about Fray’s work ever since the redhead had stepped into the spotlight, and she knew about the heartbreak Robert Lightwood’s rejection had brought upon him all those years ago.

She knew everything about him, and he didn’t think he could go through with this if she thought it was a bad idea. If she told him to stay at his current job and suffer for a while longer, he knew he would do it.

He would do it even if it dragged him down and made his body itch and left him tired and listless and impassive. Catarina was like an older sister to him, and he trusted her implicitly. If she thought modelling for Lightwood Fashions wasn’t worth the possible loss of his job, he would forget all about it and shove his dream to the back of his mind.

“Oh my god, Magnus! That’s amazing!” his best friend exclaimed. “Wait a second, doesn’t Raphael work for Lightwood? Why didn’t he tell us about this? Magnus, this is incredible! With Lightwood Sr. out of the picture, you definitely have a shot! They’re going to love you, and you’re finally going to get out of that crappy company.”

Relief flooded his veins. A part of his mind was still screaming at him, telling him this was a terrible idea, that he was too old for this sort of thing, but he didn’t care. If Catarina thought this was what he should do, then he wouldn’t deny himself the one thing he’d always wanted.

“You don’t think this is a terrible idea?” he asked, just to make sure.

“Magnus, you’ve always loved fashion,” Catarina answered patiently. “And you’ve always wanted to model, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. I know you had a bad experience a long time ago, but there’s no reason for you to be rejected this time. You could finally get to leave the company and people you hate. You’ll have the chance to be truly happy again. Whether or not it works out in the end, I think you should take the risk. I know you, Magnus, and you’ll end up regretting it if you don’t even try to get this contract.”

Magnus smiled wryly. There was a reason Catarina was his best friend. She knew exactly how his mind worked, even better than he did. She could read him like an open book and never hesitated to tell him when he was acting stupidly. She was smart and compassionate and empathetic, and Magnus trusted her with his life.

And as always, she was right. If he didn’t audition for this job, he would spend his whole life wondering if he had missed out on something extraordinary. He was almost 30, and for all his creativity and tendency to act on impulse, he had never really taken a professional risk.

Leaving Fade Media and becoming a model for Lightwood Fashions was exactly what he needed to regain the joy and excitement he had lost after Camille. He would rather have a few months there and get fired once his contract was over than another ten years at Fade Media, stuck with a boss he couldn’t stand and a position way below his skill level.

“Thank you,” he told his best friend, already switching to the Lightwood Fashions website on his computer.

The page was bright and welcoming, done in tasteful colours that reflected Fray’s latest works. Rumour had it her secret partner was a colour theory genius, and Magnus had to admit their palettes were always impeccable. He couldn’t help but wonder if they had had a hand in the creation of the website or if Lightwood preferred keeping everything separate.

“Their website is fancy,” Catarina said over the phone, startling Magnus. He should have known his best friend would look up the company and the job offer as soon as he mentioned it.

“The colour scheme matches Fray’s fall collection,” Magnus hummed. The collection had been released a few months ago and Magnus was just as in love with it as he was everything else Fray designed. “Everyone thought they were crazy for choosing purple as the dominant colour, but it worked out wonderfully. The public went absolutely crazy over the line.”

“Don’t they always?” Catarina chuckled. She wasn’t far from the truth. Although Lightwood had started as a luxury brand few could afford, the company had slowly started integrating cheaper – but no less stunning – options on top of their high-couture pieces. It was another reason why Magnus had gone back to supporting them after Lightwood Senior’s resignation. “You do realise this means you’ll be meeting your idols, right? After years of telling Raphael you didn’t care about getting to know Fray, you’re finally going to work with her.”

Magnus’ heart stopped. He hadn’t even considered that; hadn’t even thought about coming face to face with one of his idols, the talented woman who created the clothes he adored. He could have easily met her if he had wanted to, but something had always held him back. This time, there would be no avoiding it.

“Stop freaking out,” Catarina scoffed. Magnus knew she was rolling her eyes at him fondly in the safety of her apartment. “She’s going to love you. She’ll be so thankful to have a model as amazing as you, and then she’ll realise you’re a wonderful human being on top of that. There’s nothing to worry about, Magnus. Besides, you’ll have Raphael with you the whole time. Our dear friend may like to pretend he doesn’t care about us, but you know he’ll protect you against anyone who doesn’t treat you right.”

Magnus exhaled, trying to let his best friend’s words soothe him. He knew he was being ridiculous. He had met countless celebrities, had interviewed them, had worked with them, but Clary Fray had always been the one person he kept at a distance. He didn’t think he could stand it if he found out she wasn’t as kind as everyone made her out to be.

Before he could let himself fall back into his old insecurities again, another thought popped into his mind uninvited. Magnus perked up, a sly smirk appearing on his lips.

“Do you think I’ll finally find out who her secret partner is?” he wondered out loud. “Hell, Raphael might tell me himself once I’m his colleague. Surely, this is common knowledge within the team, right?”

“I don’t know, Magnus,” Catarina hummed thoughtfully. “Whoever this mysterious partner is, they clearly want to keep their identity hidden for the time being. Maybe you’ll find out once you work there, but maybe you won’t. Don’t get your hopes up and please, for the love of god, don’t push anyone into giving you an answer that might get you into trouble.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. His best friend was so dramatic sometimes. He understood why someone might want to keep their involvement hidden in order to avoid the spotlight, but surely Lightwood employees knew about the secret partner.

“Magnus,” Catarina repeated, a hint of warning in her voice. “If they tell you, that’s great. But if they don’t, leave it alone. You want this job more than you want to know this person’ secret. Please don’t ruin this for yourself.”

Immediately, Magnus deflated. His best friend was – once again – right. He couldn’t let his curiosity get in the way of what might be the job of his lifetime. No matter how much he wanted to know about Fray’s partner, no matter how enthralled he was by this person’s ability to choose the perfect colours and tell a story with their palette, it wasn’t why he was thinking of joining Lightwood Fashions.

He had managed to live five years without knowing who Fray worked with. He could live without it for as long as it took this person to step out of the shadows. Sighing heavily, he clicked on the ‘open auditions’ tab and tried to push the mystery to the back of his mind.

“I won’t ruin anything,” he promised Catarina, hoping he would be able to stay true to his word. “Now, want to help me with this application process or should I call our traitor of a friend?”

Catarina’s laughter echoed in his empty loft and Magnus felt a smile tug at his lips. Finally, after years of trudging through a job he hated, he was going to start anew.

A change was long overdue; it was time for him to be free.

[worldsendroleplay]

Friday, January 1st, 2021

Greetings, dear reader. 

Some of you may have noticed my absence, but I have been hard at work. Either way, my comings and goings are none of your business. If you were to make a report of my work this past month, it would be longer than every past one of yours combined. I hope you all enjoy your holiday gifts. They were all chosen with great care and it took great effort to acquire some of them. 

It seems your present to me was enough material for a longer report. I commend you for not being boring in my absence and while I know I should not criticize a gift, it would have been far better if you’d gifted me content for the entire year. Whatever; there’s always my birthday.

Many people have come and gone since we last spoke, too many for me to keep track of, but I regret to inform you that among the people that have left the world was Alastor, the Radio Demon. Where am I supposed to get my entertainment from now that all the world’s resident killers are gone? Unless Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or James Potter make good on their threats to kill Peter Pettigrew, I suppose that I will have to watch and listen to your silly conversations and arguments instead. 

There were a few Thanksgiving get-togethers, though not as many as for the next big holiday that we will cover. Bucky Barnes invited his sister Rebecca Barnes and her boyfriend, Hugo Granger-Weasley, to spend Thanksgiving with himself, his son Leonard “Leo” Barnes, and his girlfriend Angie Martinelli. They had to explain the holiday to Madge Undersee, who grew up in a world where there was no Thanksgiving and for whom a cornucopia was used for more than just food. 

Christmas has arrived for the inhabitants of Worlds’ End, and many people have celebrated it in their own ways. I’d tell you about my holiday plans, but I doubt you would approve. Merlin and Morgana, on the other hand, hosted a lunch and dinner for their friends and family and spent the next day sleeping it off. Malachai Atherton explained Christmas to his girlfriend Ty Lee, who had never heard of the holiday but received a present from her boyfriend; she gave him one in return despite not knowing of the holiday, as she was aware this time of year was special somehow.

But not everyone has had a happy holiday. Regulus Black discovered that his daughter, Lyra, had joined one of the many happy ghost-like people living in the portal version of his beloved Hogwarts. I must say, that is a terrible idea of a Christmas gift on someone’s part. I do happily encourage murder, but even I must draw the line somewhere. Sirius Black, after being told by his brother that Lyra had left the world, assumed that either Peter Pettigrew or Narcissa Malfoy were involved as they were aligned with a certain Dark Lord back home. Sirius then grew infuriated at the idea of Narcissa being Lyra’s godmother, and things blew up between the two brothers when he accused Regulus of never changing his ways. Pardon my language, but what an asshole. 

For un-holiday-related conversations, look no further than Aviana Pendragon. We have watched her grow up, but it wasn’t that long ago when her younger brother Gaven Pendragon was born. Avi has since felt like her family wants her to be just like her brother, though hopefully a few conversations with her parents and uncle would have made her feel better. If she is reading this, or if anyone needs to hear this—it is always okay to be yourself, whether you are rash and arrogant, quiet and sweet, or just a plain murderer. For example, I know I can be bold and that it can be intimidating to speak with me. I still do not shy away from this. 

Meanwhile, there have been quite a few confessions made since people have only been able to speak the truth, both for the better and for the worse. For example, Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste had a fight over a certain little secret (that I know and you don’t), but things have been cleared up between the two now and they are still happily in love. Sir Leon learned a little something about his good friend Sir Gwaine, but they did not fight at all and instead laughed it off. Compared to Marinette and Adrien, it was a rather boring conversation, but it was a conversation a long time coming. Then there was a conversation between Mordred and Merlin about a certain destiny and a certain set of fake memories, but that is all in the past. Now it is time to look to the future, and I can’t wait to see what will happen next. Even if the past did bring along enough drama to warrant several stab wounds. 

And where there are confessions, there are also actions. Gorlois has been training the Druid Kara in how to fight and then extended his offer to Callan. After a few days of consideration, she decided to take the former knight up on his offer, and she joined the two in the gym. An anger-prone Druid, a feisty orphan, and a Knight who has renounced his knighthood… What can go wrong? For my sake, I hope several things do.

It has been weeks since his birth, but it is my honor and my duty to announce the arrival of young Micah Aspen Fisher Odair on Finnick Odair’s doorstep. While the victor was talking with his roommate, Rue Gardner, in the kitchen, they heard the soft cries of a baby outside. They brought the young boy inside, and Finnick has been raising him as his son since then. I cannot wait to write his mouthful of a name in future reports.

Finally, let’s move onto the exciting topic of relationships, whether they are familial, romantic, or platonic. Mariah Hunter and Daniel Jackson have been increasingly spending time together, be it watching movies, nursing small cuts on fingers, or preparing for dinners for the two of them to share. For now the two are just friends, but they are a pair to watch for anyone that knows them. 

There is a new relationship in town for anyone who cares to read about it. Lu Ten may have been thinking about his feelings for Reagan Reyes for a while now, but staying silent about them was no longer possible. With the truth now being his only option, Lu Ten had no other choice but to say something, which may have been prompted by her painting of him. Thankfully, she reciprocated his feelings, and the two lovebirds kissed and decided to begin a relationship with each other. Now, let us just hope that their families approve. Since Lu Ten’s current family in the world consists of a single firebending cousin who is never happy, they should be fine. 

On the topic of budding relationships, young Gaven Pendragon extended the hand of friendship to Kara, someone who has in the past tried to kill his father Arthur Pendragon as well as all the knights that he calls uncles. Of course, Gaven doesn’t know about that, and he likes seeing the best in everyone. I will address Gaven now as I did Aviana earlier—if you are reading this, perhaps it may be best to ask your parents about it. Or better yet, send in a question to me! 

Gaven may not be the only tether between the two sides, though. Mordred and Kara, since their (seemingly inevitable) break up, have discussed the possibility of getting back together. As of the writing of this report, nothing has happened yet. 

What is more certain is that Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala have gotten back together. Things had grown complicated between them both since she knew what her secret husband had done and what he would come to do, but they’d never stopped loving each other. It was—is—Padmé’s hope that they can find a way to move past whatever he will do in the future and perhaps stop it from ever happening at all. In a heartfelt moment, she exchanged wedding rings with him after not being able to wear them at home. It’s unlikely that change in course of action will happen, but it’s fun to watch everyone try to stop the inevitable, especially in a world like this where you already know what will happen. 

Something else we already know for sure is that Jet has moved on from only telling lies to only telling the truth, which made Katara feel uncertain now that she knows that the lying buffer is gone. However, she has still chosen to be with him, and has expressed her happiness to Zuko, who is still happily in love with his girlfriend from the Earth Kingdom, Jin. What made the firebender less happy was the constant ice and snow outside, but maybe he’ll cheer up in the future. Hopefully, he got a winter coat for Christmas.

If you are Mercury Black and Emerald Sustrai, it may be a bit hard to be cheery right now. They had to deal with a question of trust once again when Mercury went to wish his Semblance back from the genies of the Genies’ Cave. Back home, this had been stolen by his father to ‘make him stronger’. Emerald insisted on joining him in the caves so that he didn’t get himself killed, and the wish was made. If he had gotten killed, it would have made for such an interesting story. I do love a good death. There was no death, though, leaving us to see what happens in the aftermath of this wish. I hope it’s something exciting. 

For the sake of my future reports, I hope the coming year is full of excitement for you.

That is all for my report this week.

Go on, dear reader, and do not forget to share this with your friends!

Your Editor thanks you.

[edwardiansuggestions]

dearest editor, I've been rather in love with one of my friends and I genuinely just cant get my mind off him. I have known him for around 3 years now, we met through theatre, and I moved a year into knowing him. we still talk rather frequently but im having quite a time trying to see if he returns my feelings! according to many friends who know both of us and have seen us together he looks at me differently but I'm not quite certain of it. any advice for me, a poor helpless romantic soul? belle

My Dear Belle,

How often do I find myself in a similar position to yourself. I have long fancied myself with a friend of mine, who I, too, have known for three years, and who I met through the theatre, and who moved a year into my knowing him. It is a troublesome thing, in such cases, and, as we are so oft told by those with beaus out at sea, or on their tours in Europe, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’. It is confounded, too, to read over and over a letter written in what could be a loving hand, attempting to find meaning in the written word, or, worse, to read typeface and attempt to find warmth.

Prolonged contact, in any case, with a person who no longer lives in the same society as another, is a good indication of a friendship strong and true. I would not dismiss the idea of maintaining friendship, even if you should discover that this gentleman does not feel for you as you do for him. However, that is still to be seen:–in the light of discovering his affection, what better time to have honesty than this? Christmastime is for candidness, be that with family or with friends, and it proffers a chance to write heartfelt little messages, so often tawdry and empty as anything. Write such a message, perhaps, but all the while do not let it be empty; let it bring forth your love, and witness the response. It may bear fruits you did not expect to see in a winter garden.

Good luck, and Merry Christmas,

The Editor

[lavieenprose]

on being ill

“On Being Ill” isn’t just making a case for illness as a literary subject, but for the brute, bare fact of the body itself. By insisting we acknowledge that we sweat and crave and itch all day (“all day, all night”), Woolf reminds us we have the right to speak about these things—to make them lyric and epic—and that we should seek a language that honors them. The man who suffers a migraine, she writes, is “forced to coin words himself, taking his pain in one hand and a lump of pure sound in the other.” What does it sound like, this strange, unholy language of nerves and excretions? How do we articulate the kind of pain that refuses language? We throw up our hands, or we hurl our charts: one through ten, bad to worse, from the smiley face to its wretched, frowning cousin.

Woolf’s argument may have been more urgent in her time than in ours—we have more records of the “daily drama of the body” now than we did then—but when I first read her battle cry, her call to arms (not just arms but legs and teeth and bones), it felt like encountering a long-lost relative: the banner I’d never known I’d always been fighting under: Bodies matter—we can’t escape them—they’re full of stories—how do we tell them? Her argument might have the urgency of a battle cry but it’s also vulnerable; it’s posing questions; it’s got mess and nerve—it’s leaking some strange fluid from beneath its garments, hard to tell in the twilight, maybe pus or tears or blood. Even her syntax feels bodily—full of curves and joints and twists, shifting and stretching the skin of her sentences.

People have often told me my own writing seems to be all about bodies. A woman from a writing workshop once suggested I call my collection of stories Body Issues. (I didn’t have a collection of stories: If I did, I wouldn’t have called it that.) But I’ve never wanted to write about “the body,” by which I mean I’ve never set out with that explicit intention; I’ve only ever wanted to write about what it feels like to be alive, and it turns out being alive is always about being in a body. We’re never not in bodies: that’s just our fate and our assignment. (In her beautiful memoir The Two Kinds of Decay, Sarah Manguso writes that she despises “the body” whenever it describes anything but a corpse, and I love that, though I use the phrase constantly anyway.) To my mind, the more aggressive choice is writing that isn’t physical; this insistence carries the burden of intentional absence.

All that said, I’ve always felt a certain shame about the ways my writing keeps coming back to bodies, which is why I loved finding Woolf. My shame felt such relief at the prospect of her company. My first novel was all about addiction and eating disorders and sex, and there was food everywhere, some of it gone rotten. I used the word “sweat” too many times (my editor told me); there were too many fluids (my editor told me) and far too many bruises (my editor told me) and even worse, too many of these bruises were “plum-colored”—for this last one (my editor told me), we would both get mocked, if we didn’t get rid of some of these plum-colored bruises right away. A certain shame hung over the whole narrative, like a faint body odor I couldn’t smell because it was mine: There was too much body, and this too-much-body risked banality and melodrama at once. I’ve always wondered if this shame about writing about the body is connected to the shame of quasi-autobiographical writing, that sense of failing to imagine beyond one’s own experience. Is writing about bodily experience somehow the extreme form of this failure, the ultimate solipsism? You haven’t even gotten beyond your own nerve endings; it’s no accident they call it navel gazing.

I often think of an old painting I once saw that shows an injured body pointing at its own open wounds. The most graceful victim, of course, is the one who doesn’t need to point at his holes or ask for sympathy—who doesn’t take up the lump of pure sound, who just keeps quiet. The way I imagine being scolded goes something like this: There’s something selfish about talking about bodies too much if the bodily experience fueling everything is your own.

I often think, also, of a cross-country race I ran in 10th grade: I tripped on a slab of concrete sticking up from the dirt, about a hundred meters after the start, when the pack was still dense; and I was trampled by the horde of 15-year-old girls running behind me. It was pretty minor, as tramplings go. But still, it was a trampling. I got up to run the next three miles of the race but I was shaken up and bleeding. I wasn’t running well at all—nothing close to what I’d need to do to place well for our team.

When I reached my coach, who was calling out our one-mile splits, she said something to the effect of “Why are you running so slow?”—only perhaps not so delicately phrased. I remember the awkward way I tried to point at my own wounds without slowing my (turtle) pace; and I remember how badly I wanted her to see the streaks of dirt-clotted blood; I almost stumbled again in my urgent need to show her the proof of my stumbling.

That memory has become the vessel for a certain kind of shame—the shame of pointing too overtly at what hurts, jamming the laser-pointer of language at some wound and then expecting it to yield wisdom or explanation. My coach didn’t want the epic or lyric account of my damaged body, she just wanted me to keep running, and hopefully pick up the pace.

I’m still haunted by the specter of myself in this moment—a mute form pointing, bleeding. A few years after that race I spent a couple months actually mute: I’d gotten jaw surgery and they’d wired my jaw shut to help it heal. During those months I wrote quite frequently but it was mainly practical, because I couldn’t talk. I requested things by scribbling them in a little notebook: vicodin, please; okay ensure (my mom was always foisting Ensure on me), but are there any cans of dark chocolate left? HATE butter pecan. I asked for sheets draped over the mirrors, so I wouldn’t see my swollen face; I asked for the pair of scissors that I was supposed to keep on-hand in case I vomited and needed to cut the wires between my teeth.

Eventually I started writing poems about those quiet weeks, and the surgery before them, the days in the hospital. The poems were full of IV lines and numbness and feeling returning after numbness like water oozing back into crab holes in damp sand (“crackling lines of hurt,” I wrote). I imagined myself the bard of swelling; I wanted to write toothache lyrics for swelling—to evoke the chronic panic of its deforming sculptural practice: it shapes you into something like you, but not you. I wanted to bring that aching knowledge to my nonexistent reading public.

I turned the poems into a series and then I turned them in to my undergraduate writing workshop. The series was called “Waiting Room,” meaning the waiting room before surgery but also the injury afterward as a waiting room—get it?—the aftermath as the cramped little chamber where you wait to get better; where you have to keep waiting even once it seems like you should already be there.

I wasn’t satisfied with the poems. Pain was hard to describe. I encountered Elaine Scarry’s famous formulation—“pain does not simply resist language but actively destroys it”—which recognized but did not solve the problem. My workshop wasn’t satisfied with the poems either. Everyone wanted to know: What were they about? I thought it was pretty fucking self-evident, but no, it was a different problem: My classmates got that these poems were about pain and injury—maybe in a dental office?—but what were they really about? My workshop was thinking everything must be a metaphor for something else: the cut lines on raw gums, the self-quieting sparkle of anesthesia. But in truth, nothing was a metaphor for anything. It was more or less this happened, and it hurt. There was nothing below the surface.

At the time I took this as a verdict of poverty and lack—which is why I loved finding Woolf, so many years later, who seemed to be saying, the surface of the body isn’t poverty; it isn’t lack. She rose from the dead for the express purpose of silencing that workshop, or at least arguing against the notion that there had to be something besides bodies for these poems to matter. She was saying the surface is poetry; bodies are poetry; or poetry can be made of what these bodies need and crave and bleed and feel.

I felt her summoning an army, everyone I’d ever read whose language does some justice to the way our bodies are, the ways they betray us or bind us together: Walt Whitman’s greed to catalogue the physical forms of his countrymen, William Faulkner’s fixation on muddy drawers and the waft of honeysuckle; Marcel Merleau-Ponty’s insistence on the body as an “eloquent relic of existence.”

Woolf writes: “It is not only a new language that we need, more primitive, more sensual, more obscene, but a new hierarchy of the passions; love must be deposed in favour of a temperature of 104; jealousy give place to the pangs of sciatica.” I can see the way these marching orders have infected my own prose—even this piece, with its twisting, bodily contortions—and the way they’ve helped me claim a dialect I’d been afraid was junk, a ledger of the body’s travails, not the “Waiting Room” poems (which weren’t really that great) but the notebooks I kept when my jaw was wired silent, full of their banal complaints and requests: Vicodin, please. Where are the vomit scissors? These are daily dramas of the body, charged with force and longing; the record Woolf never found, the words that pain and pure sound made.

[casscutting]

Cass’s Cover Do Over: Round One

Welcome to Cass's Cover Do Over, the new monthly series where I take books who’s covers I feel could better represent the story and give them a fitting makeover. Originally I wanted to call this series Extreme Makeover: Book Cover Edition, HOWEVER, Disney owns the trademark rights to “Extreme Makeover” and I REALLY don’t want to get sued by Disney.  

Now before I get into the meat of today’s post I want to give a disclaimer. I am in no way shape or form mocking or making fun of any cover designers and or authors who put their own time into making the original covers. If the authors do happen to see these posts and like what I have done I will give them the high quality images free of charge. This series is to help authors both established and aspiring better understand the do's and don’ts of Cover Design from the perspective of an aspiring author and established graphic designer.

Let’s start at the beginning WHY should you hire a designer to design your cover? Whether we admit it or not the first thing that draws your eye to a book, be it online or in a store, is the cover. I, like many others, have bought or borrowed a book because I liked the cover. I also, like many others, have kept a book because of the cover to spite the contents of the book.

The book cover is your first line of attack when trying to obtain a new reader. If the cover is eye-catching it brings that person one step closer to picking up your book. A cover should envoke the overall feeling or theme of your book and a designer will (SHOULD) be able to do that.

I see so many authors, I’m speaking about the Indie Authors though there are some questionable covers that have come from the traditional world, however, traditional authors have a minuscule amount of design input if any at all. Indie Authors are the sole decision makers when it comes to their books.

An author has put in months if not years to writing this book then if they go about things the RIGHT way they put in hundreds if not thousands of dollars (insert applicable currency here lol) into editing and formatting. Then comes time to hit the publish button and send your book baby out into the world but wait you need a book cover.

I’ve seen authors talk about this on their blogs or their youtube channels they’ve put little to no thought into the book’s cover with their first book or first few books. I’ve seen people say they just grabbed a Royalty Free Stock Photo or used Kindle Drect’s or LuLu’s cover editor to make their covers. Or even worse I’ve seen authors say they just googled pictures and find one they like and slap it up there vualá they’re done.

I am going to say this loud DON’T USE PICTURES FROM GOOGLE AS YOUR BOOK COVERS!

A: those pictures could be too small making your book cover blurry and bad. Most importantly B: You don’t know the legal ownership of that photo. Best case scenario you, by some miraculous chance, get a Royalty Free Stock Photo but most likely you will choose someone else's design or photograph and that person will be entitled to sue your ass off.

When I was still in school for graphic design we were given articles to read, wish I still had them, where authors were sued because they used someone else’s photo. Not only did that author need to pay out a percentage of back earnings the rightful owner of that photo was entitled to a percentage of that author’s royalties for the lifetime of that book or until such time as the author changed the cover image.

So I reiterate DON’T USE A RANDOM GOOGLE PICTURE.

Now on to the Cover Do Over’s

I want to note that I have NOT read these books the designs I came up with are based on a few criteria. 1: Title, 2: synopsis, 3: Genre and Age Groupe, and if I needed more to go off of 4: Reviews

White Rabbit by John Stanley

Synopsis:

All his life Gabriel has struggled with childhood memories. Or better said; the absence of them. Now a young man and married to the beautiful Alaina, the memories begin to surface in wild and terrifying nightmares. Tormented by the dark images of a faceless man, he discovers an inner strength found only in the delicate fibers that connect what is real and what is not.

A thousand miles away Professor O'Bannon, Homicide Detective with the Los Angeles Police Department, is hunting a sadistic and cunning killer who preys on the city's most innocent. He too, tormented by a faceless man who displays his victims with devastating affect. Soon fate intervenes, and worlds of the Professor and Gabriel collide in a jarring, mind-bending thrill ride that will change both their lives forever.

I believe I saw where the author/designer was going with this cover but I feel it came across more cartoonish which made it feel less thriller to me.

So I created a stylized rabbit head on a dark cracked textured background with a deliberate light source and jittered text to envoke the ominous and unsettling feeling that John Stanley alluded too with their synopsis.

The Culling by Anthony Hulse

Synopsis:

A series of child abductions are linked to Jules Devlin’s touring circus. A team of CID detectives are deployed and attempt to unravel the mystery. The performers, including a clown, a lion-tamer, a fire-eater, a dwarf, and conjoined twins harbour a terrifying secret. Jimmy Crawford, an ex-CID detective turned private investigator is hired by the parents of a teenage girl, who believe her disappearance is linked to the circus. Crawford is aided in his task by a child psychologist and a priest. Through a handicapped boy, they discover that the circus is not what it seems. DS Jenny Stiles, believing Devlin is the head of a paedophile ring, soon discovers something more sinister. Could the evil carnival be responsible for the burning of churches and their priests? The Culling is a supernatural thriller set in Whitby and Dartmoor. From Edinburgh, Cleveland and Lourdes in France, strange and unexplainable episodes occur, which leads Jenny to believe that Devlin is indeed evil.

In my eyes they only thing that tells me this book is a Mystery/Thriller is the foggy road and no I did not use a low-quality image here every image of this book I’ve found has the same low-quality image. From Google to Amazon to Goodreads it’s the same.

Aside from the SLIGHT reference to the Mystery/Thriller, I would have no idea what this book was about without reading the synopsis and there is nothing about this cover that made me as a reader want to learn more about it.

So after reading the synopsis, I saw the Mystery/Thriller aspect of this story revolves around a creepy traveling circus and missing children but like I said I didn’t get that from the original cover. So I created the circus tent and found several royalty-free stock images that would work as a background when stitched together.

I chose to go with a more circus-themed font that I created for this project to tie in the title and author name to the theme because the juxtaposition between the creepy circus background and any flat color for the typeface would have thrown off the whole feeling.

Now I have almost 20 variants of each design and the ones I’ve chosen I feel best to represent the themes as stated in the synopsis. And so you know for when you’re choosing a cover designer they, after the consultation, will go and design, depending on the designer, 3-5 or 3-7 different designs with a handful of variants for each design. I personally offer in the 3-5 design range. What I mean by variant is the designer will move around the typeface or other elements of the design and or give you different typefaces as options as well to give you more to choose from.

Also of note and again every designer is different, but every designer will offer a set amount of Revisions where they will change something you, the client, have changed your mind on. This is usually anywhere from 1 - 5 revisions before charging extra with most I’ve seen offering 3, I personally offer 5. There are also Fixes if there is something the designer fucked up they SHOULD redo it and it SHOULDN’T count towards any of the revisions. During the consultation, a designer worth their weight will take extensive and detailed notes on what you want in order to prevent having to make to many fixes or to prevent a shady client from getting more revisions than they deserve.

How do you get your designs? Throughout the process, the designer is sending you a lower quality watermarked image so they can show you the design and get your feedback. Once the designs are done and payments are paid IN FULL the designer will send you the full HD images and they are yours to do with as you see fit, unless otherwise stated.

Now let's talk about price, again here is where every designer differs but I have seen designers offer flat rate payments and usually, that is paid upfront before the designer starts working. There is a second version of a flat rate payment where there is one flat rate but you pay 50% upfront and the other 50% when the designs are signed off on which is the payment method I use. There are hourly billed payments, where you as the client are to pay for a set number of hours upfront and the rest of the payment is to be paid in full before you’re given the final product. 

I’ve wanted to do this for a while now and I am glad I finally did it. One of my goals this year is to start designing book covers and I thought this would be a fun way to get my name out there.

Question of the day: Do you sometimes buy a book just because you liked the cover?