Post-Processingby Bookish DelightChaptersScene 1: #SelfCareScene 2: #SelfieScienceScene 3: #SelfDisillusionmentScene 4: #NoLongerMyselfScene 5: #SelfEmploymentScene 6: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 1)Scene 7: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 2)Scene 8: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 3)Scene 9: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 4)Scene 10: #BestReunionEverScene 11: #ThingsChangeScene 1: #SelfCareVignette Valencia savored the blending scents of espresso and tea leaves, while sitting at her usual booth in her usual Starcolts—of which there were twelve in this part of town alone, and which she made sure to rotate between with every visit. Why wouldn't she? Starcolts coffeeshops were practically on every street corner these days—or at least, if they weren't now, they threatened to be quite soon. They'd already taken over every inch of nearby Manehattan, not to mention what she saw on her most recent trips to Applewood and Seaddle... oh, forget about it. It was only a matter of time before Canterlot City was swept under completely. Or, as Vignette always put it: #CantStopTheUnstoppable. Not that it was a bad thing as far as she was concerned. It was nice to know that she could always have the same, reliable, consistent drinking experience without having a crazy fan being able to deduce her regular hangouts and thus stalk her. One could never be too careful—online, or offline, for that matter. Her booth was in the back corner, as far away as possible from all of the schlubby, wrinkled-shirt-and-blouse-wearing unsuccessful freelancers with their overpriced laptops that they were surely still making payments on. Vignette knew better. All she'd ever needed was her smartphone. She stared out the window, musing over the rainy weather as she sipped her grande chai latte with vanilla, cinnamon and the slightest hint of extra foam but not too much foam if there was even a chance of overflow she made sure to always file a complaint with that specific barista by name. In Vignette's experience, it was the only way they ever learned. Perfect poise, legs crossed, pinky outstretched, two cup sleeves to make sure her skin was protected from the elements as she drank her ambrosia. She took an extra-long sugary sip, closed her eyes, and loosed a high-pitched sigh, charitably allowing all present the privilege of basking in the mere language of her unique brand of Valencian ecstasy. Life. Truly. Was. Bliss. Once. More. Which was more than she could say for the week she'd just been through. Against her better judgment, Vignette unlocked her phone, looking over Canterlot City's local entertainment news and social media feeds, searching for a particular hashtag. Too soon for her tastes, she found it: #EquestriaLand. Which had been a success... technically? The rides had worked out fine, the fashions and costumes she'd picked out—yes, the designers once under her temporary employ counted, as they'd all been her delegates, so didn't that mean she was ultimately responsible for the fruit of their efforts?—had also worked out fine. The park had all worked out fine. The opening festivities that she'd headlined herself, only partly of her own volition... less so. Which was just as well, seeing as she was no longer affiliated with Equestria Land, as public relations manager or otherwise. It was a mutual decision she and her corporate superiors had come to, after recorded footage of the parade had been analyzed, on-stage dialogue included, and she'd been questioned about it. It turned out that they didn't like her constant shrugs over what happened, even if they were all she'd had to give. Every time she tried to remember what she'd done and said back then, the memories were only of someone she... didn't quite like. Yet she could never come up with a reason as to actually why she'd acted the way she had, or how her phone had suddenly turned into seriously a sci-fi teleportation device what Wait, not sci-fi Something about magic Seriously That was what they were going with sure okay Vignette sighed, resting her cheek on her palm. 'Magic' was indeed what Rarity and those other girls said had infected Vignette's device, requiring her to buy a new one because of course warranty wasn't going to cover it. Thank heavens for cloud saving so far as her contacts list was concerned. That said, she hadn't tried contacting those girls back yet. She'd still been too angry at the time. Angry enough to maybe throw a glass of water in one of her questioning superior's faces a day later. Yes. Mutual decision. Still very much their loss. Still, she'd come out... not badly, all things considered. She'd have to find new work, which wouldn't be too hard given her contact and follower count. The latter had taken a hit, but not by all that much. Also, something something extending the hand of true #IRLFriendship being worth more than a thousand followers a pop whatevs— Vignette shook her head to shake out the cynicism. That was unfair of her. Rarity and 'Applejack' (only now did the name click for her; the latter certainly had some halfway decent fruit fashion theming going on) had been genuine in their sentiments, from what she could tell. They had to have been, to do what they'd done, to forgive her even in the wake of how Vignette had treated them while she was still Rarity's boss. But Rarity... that was one. One in a literal million. One to watch. And watch she would. Eventually. Once she got herself back in order. Vignette Valencia's life was one where millions of people watched her every move—or at least, every move she deemed shareable. She'd bounced back from worse. Now, as then, all she needed to do was rebuild. And to do that, she first needed to get home dry. As if hearing her thoughts, she heard—then watched—the rain fall harder. Vignette groaned, first grousing at the lousy weather... ...then brightening with an idea. Scene 2: #SelfieScienceVignette puffed herself up as the rain continued. Fine, then. She was a master of getting her way, but if one couldn't get what she wanted by direct request, then turning lemons into lemonade was always the next best thing. #MakeTheWorldWorkForYou. All right, Valencia: power selfie time. She fluffed her vest, straightened her hair, used her infinite supply of moist towelettes and several nearby napkins to make sure the table was 101% sanitary, opened the blinds of the window near her, and sat on the booth table. She reached into her purse again, digging out her extendable selfie stick, and mounted her phone upon it with one hand. This was a delicate operation already, but it would be so worth it for the perfect shot, the perfect mood piece! A few reinforcing swishes of eyeshadow, some restorative blush on her cheeks to bring herself back to pristine appearance... oh, did she want lipstick? She decided that she did. Peach gloss: on. Check self in pocket mirror, check self in camera, blink, blink, kiss kiss. Just about there. Applicators and brushes, back in the purse. It was finally time for the true Facemask: metaphorical in comparison to what she'd just been doing, but a practiced art form, a Vignette Valencia original, all the same. One perfect smile, with perfectly slanted, seductive eyebrows, and perfectly lidded eyes just to drive the message home for the slower folks. Cross legs once more, pick up selfie stick, tilt phone just so to make sure as much of herself plus the weather was in view, then raise cup to lips. She looked at herself in the phone's screen. Perfection. As always. She may not have been "perfect" as a person—who was?—but she could pull off the perfect look 120% of the time. Fall in love with me, world. She snapped the picture, suppressing a giggle. I mean, I would. After several more snaps encompassing several of the tiniest body language tweaks, she checked her photos until she found one she was satisfied with showing the world at large—after some selective cropping, of course. She got off of the table, cleaned it yet again, and sat back at her booth, just in time to see the rain tapering off, back into a drizzle. She rolled her eyes, huffing through pursed lips. Of course. No matter, she'd already taken advantage of the opportunity while it'd been present, and made it work for her. All that was left was to open Snapgab, upload picture, add her flavor text: "Rainy day relax-caffeine. Ironic, or avant-garde? #StillMe #StillGlorious #BangsForever" ...and, finally, Send. Done. Off to two and a half million followers still willing to hang on her every word, even after last week's fiasco. For a second, she felt like her old self. Like she could do anything. Then, just as quickly, a cavern opened in her chest, and those comfortable feelings disappeared into a black hole. Oh, no. Not again. Scene 3: #SelfDisillusionmentThe cavern expanded as she watched people open her post: an action signified by view count—an eyeball icon next to a number—and nothing else. And yet, a hollowness, a yearning dissatisfaction she hadn't felt in months, threatened to overtake her completely as the number of views went up... slowly. Far more slowly than normal. Far too slowly for her tastes. A little thumb icon counted up as well, her post being "liked" by likes by hundreds of nicknames she'd never known as people, but had never felt the need to. Until recently. Trouble was, the more she encountered this feeling, the more she hated it. Now, anyways. Not before. But now... Vignette held in a sigh. It used to be so... validating. At least, that's what she always told herself as she forced herself to push down the doubt, the questioning, the trepidation and apprehension that came with every post, that gnawing that she'd become a pro at defeating without a second thought every time she pressed the Send button. But now, as she sat watching arbitrary numbers go up, all she could think of was the revelation she'd come to after Rarity had admonished her: "I have three million followers, but no real friends. How pathetic is that?" What even is a friend? Vignette thought to herself, resting her chin on a closed hand as she idly scrolled through her feeds. Have I ever... actually had any? Would I even know if I had? She thought back years, back over her life, a life that was marked mostly by her entrepreneurial endeavors—selling makeshift lipstick as a girl (melted crayon wax was still technically wax!), selling old garage-sale vinyl records during the digital music boom as a teenager (they'd become mass-market collector's items, right?), handling PR for Applewood movies (which had gone great until she'd run into that one movie with the talking fruits that everyone had said would be a shoo-in; it turned out that no amount of marketing or PR could have saved that trainwreck) and doing the same for amusement parks around the country. Vignette Valencia had been everywhere, seen everyone, and all of those people had myriad titles in relation to herself: Customers. Clients. Enemies. Bosses. Employees. Fans. Oh, so many fans. And yet, so many of her travels were punctuated by... exactly what she was doing now. Sitting in a Starcolts in any town, any city, that anyone could name... alone. It had always been a constant. But it was one she'd assured herself just came with the territory. #FirstSuccessThenTheWorld. But what if she'd been wrong? How many years of her life, of her beauty, would she have wasted? She'd be hitting the big three-oh sooner than later, and she refused to take it lying down when it happened. Vignette's phone vibrated, knocking her out of her reverie. Oh! There were comments already. Odd, given how soon her picture had been posted. Usually, everyone took some time to gape in awe before telling her how much they wanted to be her and how impeccable her fashion sense was. But given how she was feeling, she could use the pick-me-ups. She opened the comments. And spit out her chai in horror. Very few of them were flattering. The largest, loudest responses, instead, consisted of pictures of her from the Equestria Land parade. Pictures of her wielding her old phone, waving it like some crazed maniac (because, let's face it, she sort of had been). Pictures of her being blasted by what looked like a magical light show by those teenage girls (oh, if they'd only known). Comparison memes involving her previously-posted pictures and the above footage shots, with awful captions like "#BANGS/#FANGS"—and "WITH OUTFITS LIKE THOSE/I'D FIRE HER TOO" pasted over screencaps of her Rainbooms outfit choices (which she'd admittedly been regretting more and more every day #MistakesWereMade). All annoying, all insensitive, and, as usual, all in huge capitalized Impact font. She'd grown to despise Impact. Who didn't, though? It was a boorish font used by uncivilized savages! Helvetica, Arial, Times, even Courier for that old-school feel—those were what you used if you wanted anyone to consider you someone worth conversing with! Ugh, even Comic Sans would have served them better. How dare they? Against every bone in her body that knew better, every instinct that knew how to stay calm under pressure and accusations and cameras and flashing lights, Vignette felt herself getting incensed. This was her space! It'd taken her forever to carve a space where could be truly appreciated, where she could control that appreciation, and here it was being... grrr... Invaded! She slammed her phone onto the table, rolling her eyes in a huff. Still a week and people haven't forgotten? I made one little mistake! Okay, one big mistake. But still! Just one! On camera. In public. With the world watching. Ugh. Vignette crossed her arms on the table, dropping her head into them. There has to be something I can do, isn't there? Scene 4: #NoLongerMyselfAt a loss for the moment, Vignette decided the best thing to do was look back on happier times. She closed her current timeline, and went into her archives. Going back to her older posts, looking at these older pictures, even from merely two weeks ago, felt... odd and off. She'd listened to many a creative media client talk about going back to their old work with disdain, but she'd put their rants out of mind back then, because #BeautyIsForever. Or perhaps not, she surmised. Not the way she shot things. Honestly, some of these poses—sloppy and shameless. Some of these angles... oh, this one of her last year, at the Riviera Hotel's pool! What was she thinking? You could barely see anything for all of the water that got onto the camera's field of view. A total waste of... however much it had cost her then-employer to put her up in the swankiest hotel in Vanhoover. She hadn't bothered looking at the bill. And yet. And yet this awful picture still got half a million likes anyway, and dozens of happy comments. Which, she reminded herself, was what she was here for right now. At least, the supportive responses could take her mind off of the riffraff currently invading her— Vignette nearly choked. The memes were on her older posts now, too. Hardly as numerous as her few most recent posts, but some terrible, terrible subhumans were truly dedicated. Vignette considered herself a benevolent soul, but enough was enough! Blocked, reported, would delete in 24 hours once community management got a look at the evidence. She knew people at Snapgab, damn it. Her phone buzzed again. She clicked the notification, which took her this time to news clips and real footage of the parade itself. Her brow furrowed. Even though most outlets had chalked the parade up to a light show... some online outlets had started digging. And it appeared articles with headlines like "Vignette Valencia: Malevolent Magician?" and "Behind The #EquestriaLand Parade: Anonymous Accounts" were gaining just enough traction to make her uncomfortable. Vignette had weathered scandals before. (She'd engineered a few, even, but that was beside the point right now.) They'd burn out in a few days, to be sure—they always did—or even weeks, so long as she continued living, and didn't give the slanderers any ammunition. But, she had to admit as she felt a swelling in her eyes she hadn't been acquainted with in quite some time, she did not need this right now! She wiped her eyes with a spare tissue. "Rainbooms: trending, my public: condescending. So this is what the people truly think," she whispered, even as she was hit with even more notifications of ever-rising likes from the masses. "Perfect image officially failed, I suppose." Vignette could see the falling dominoes for what they were, and they didn't look pretty. First this, then, surely, her entire career. Why had she ever signed up for these stupid social media things in the first place? Ugh. Honestly, she had contacts in film and TV once upon a time, but no, Vignette Valencia just always had to be on the cutting edge! Her phone sounded once more. She almost reflexively threw it across the shop, but the back of her mind realized upon viewing her screen that it was a notification for... a direct Snapgab message? People rarely sent her those, now that she thought about it. When they originally had, they tended to be stalkers, but that was before she changed her settings to only receive from followers she mutually followed in turn, which trimmed the list of potential senders considerably. Not to mention, this message had an actual user pic attached, whereas most stalkers tended not to. It was a user picture that she almost recognized, but not exactly—a cute green-haired chibi girl's head flashing a V-sign with a wink. With a shrug, Vignette clicked it open and read. "OMG Val!! I totally love how this is shot! Great use of weather and pose to make a mood piece! Applewood much? lol! Hope you're good!" Multiple heart emoji punctuated the proceedings. Mere moments after she'd read those sentence fragments, Vignette already felt... different. As if all of humanity weren't the worst thing ever after all. (Just 99 percent of it.) Who was this angel, come to deliver her from #SocialMediaBlues? She clicked the sender's user picture, and read their profile. My first follower. The one person she ever allowed to call her "Val", now that she thought about it. The one person on her followers list she actually knew outside of her online space that wasn't a Customer, Client, Enemy, Boss, Employee, Ex-Employee, or Fan (oh, there were so many fans). She... would she listen to me? Vignette pressed "Reply," ready to write out a letter, thank her for the compliments, pour out her heart. Then she realized the platform she was on. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many questions she wanted to ask, to someone who would really listen... and someone to who she wouldn't need to make a million tiny apologies to beforehand for being the world's worst boss first. Rarity was back in her head once more, her words from the Equestria Land opening parade suddenly hitting home. Her words about having a real friend. I've had one of you the entire time, haven't I? The entrepreneurial and public relations spotlight life, as compelling and full of perks as it was... Vignette sometimes had to admit, was also lonely. As lonely as a vision of perfection had to be. Listening to others was her job, getting people to pay attention to the marketing line, just as much so. But being listened to, simply as herself... to say those times came at a premium would be the understatement of the century. She looked at the user picture again, her phone in both hands as she stared at the screen pensively. But I didn't know it. Would you even want to listen to me, after I've ignored you for so long? After even more thought, Vignette put down her cup, packed her things, and left the shop. She fastened her vest as she looked out into the rain, and opened her umbrella to protect her as she walked to her car. I'm willing to chance it. Scene 5: #SelfEmployment"You've come to the right place, Rarity. If I do say so myself." A bright-skinned, bright-eyed, green-haired girl paced across her house in a matching green blouse and black skirt. She could hear the rain outside, and was thus very glad to be inside, where the rain could do its job and be soothing and water the world's plants—and probably also a certain girlfriend, she thought with a chuckle—while being nowhere near her hair. After a month of shooting her last movie through a whole bunch of rainy days... well, she'd say it was nothing personal, but she'd be lying. Juniper Montage adjusted the volume on her wireless headset so as to better hear her prospective client on the other line. "So, I'll level with you—the bulk of my experience lies in motion pictures. Still, the only significant differences between film and onscreen advertising are runtime and message. In other words..." She grinned, pushing her violet glasses more securely atop the bridge of her nose. "There's no project Juniper Montage can't conquer." "Oh, that's utterly divine to hear! I must thank you again," Rarity said on the other end of the line. "I realize our working budget for this isn't exactly Applewood-grade, but..." "Not a problem," Juniper said. "Gigs like these still pay way more than movie usher stuff. Besides, it's not like this is going in a theater or on public TV or anything." She flopped onto, and stretched out on the living room couch, grabbing a pen and paper from the nearby coffee table. "This is new media! Social media! Grassroots and relatability is the name of the game, here." Juniper could feel herself getting positively excited as she thought of the possibilities. "Less prepared, edited, processed glitz, and more reality. And lucky for you, the Montage is now officially in the reality zone." Juniper started scribbling notes. "So to start off, we'll need to talk theming. When people see Carousel Boutique, even just the silhouette of the building, what do you want them to think? How do you want them to feel? What do you want their reality to be?" "Ooh, what wonderful questions from the jump!" Rarity exclaimed. "Honestly, it's times like this I wish we had our own, separate building instead of a wedged one fused to a city block." Her voice lilted with the air of a daydream. "I would design it to look exactly like a carousel." Juniper blinked as she tried to visualize what that would look like. For some reason, her mind kept getting stuck on horses. "We'll, uh, file that under workshop concepts," she said, writing "carousel imagery—total last resort?" in the far right margins. "However, when I say 'theming', I mean in terms of ideals. What do you want customers to symbolize with Carousel Boutique, in terms of making their lives better? What reality do you want to provide them, while also living up to your claims?" "Hmmm." Juniper could practically hear Rarity putting her fingers to her chin on the other end of the line. "Well, we want Carousel Boutique to be known as a place where anyone can come in, and become anyone they desire. That's our main goal, I believe." "Metamorphosis!" Juniper snapped her fingers. "I love it already." She twirled the pencil in her fingers. "People come inside. It's warm and inviting. They move amongst the clothes, feel the softness of the fabric, see the exquisite designs, get touch-ups at your mini-salon, sparkles optional!" She gestured across the sky. "And then... a new you walks out, able to love the world, because you love who you are." "'Come as who you are, leave as who you desire', 'love yourself, love the world'... captain to skipper, perfect slogans, dead ahead!" Rarity squealed. "Juniper, you're a miracle worker!" "More like great minds think alike," Juniper replied. "But this is awesome! We now have a baseline desired message and aesthetic goal! So, next things: scripting, and resources! I'll need to tour your shop in order to—" Juniper's doorbell rang. "Whoop, hang on. I'll be right back. I swear, if it's another salesman..." "Oh, don't get me started on solicitors," Rarity said. "I'll be right here." Juniper walked to her front door, opened it, and was promptly impressed by just how effectively the sight now in front of her threw her out of the Reality Zone. "Yeah. Um. Rarity?" Juniper slowly said, as she stared, agape, at her long-lost cousin standing in the doorway. "I'll, uh... call you back." Scene 6: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 1)Applewood Years Earlier Vignette Valencia walked across the length of the spacious movie studio, stifling a tired yawn as she did so. Along the way, she passed several mementos of past productions: myriad sets for every genre, from mock spaceship bridges to mock jungles to not-so-mock urban city blocks. She passed lights, umbrellas, superhero costumes, prop weapons, ropes, and even a large animatronic tyrannosaurus rex. The T-Rex in particular was under strict orders to be protected by all on the lot—after all, it'd made its corporate masters a veritable mint with just one movie. Quite frankly, Vignette thought Rexy (her pet name for it) would be far better served as a tourist attraction, to be celebrated by the people—not unlike the fictional park it had starred in—but she knew she was far too low on the food chain for those opinions to carry any weight. One day. For now, she walked past the crew for the current production's set, blowing kisses to all present, from grips to makeup, until she at last reached the director's chair, where a stout, bearded man sat. She opened her mouth to greet him, but another yawn came out first. Vignette quickly moved her hand to her mouth. "Huh. Well, that's embarrassing. Morning, boss," she singsonged. "Pretend you never saw that, mkay?" "Only if you explain why it even happened in the first place, and for the love of everything, quit calling me 'boss'." The stout director—Canter Zoom—rolled his eyes. "You already know I hate that." Vignette chuckled. "Sorry, Uncle C. Forgot for a second, and for the same reason." She sat in a nearby chair, lounging with crossed legs and rolling her wrist. "I tried to convince myself that I could do with one less hour of sleep than usual. Was up late looking over the public reaction to our movie's announcement online." Canter nodded. "Yeah, never do that again, okay? The sleep-dep thing, I mean. The well-being of my crew is important to me, and you're part of that." "I'll be alright," she said, standing to plant a kiss to her uncle's cheek. "But thanks for thinking of me." "Your mother would kill me if I didn't," Canter said, stroking his chin with a small smile. "But good initiative on the research! Come across anything good?" "'Good' is in the eye of the beholder, in this case." Vignette opened the beige messenger bag she'd brought with her, taking out several printouts. "The buzz around Trucks II is... reserved, to say the least. Barely even counts as 'buzz', if I'm being super-honest. More like a mild, disinterested humming." Canter raised his eyebrows. "Really.? That's not what I've heard. I was told public response so far has been 'on trajectory.'" Vignette gasped, and laughed. "Oh, I just love coming across new sleazy buzzwords! I'll have to steal that one." She paced around her uncle, taking in the nearby sights of the set—wind machines, a green screen and two large scale-model eighteen-wheelers—with a playful air. "With all due respect to them—but mainly you, Uncle C—that's because they're not in the know. They're old. They sit in isolated, stuffy offices, and look at the communication methods of today's people as tools at best, rather than... well, mediums. And always with disdain and disregard. It's absolutely the worst." "So you're saying there's something our marketing and promotion departments are missing?" Canter asked. "Only in capital-A Awareness," Vignette replied. "I'm sure they're very skilled people who know how to market and promote, but there are rooms that some people just don't know how to read. Especially if they didn't get in on the ground floor." "Hmmm." Canter stroked his chin again. "Let's say I believe you. Which I'm inclined to. But... I mean, everyone loved Trucks, and this movie's literally called Trucks II: the Truckening. What more do people want?" "I think that's it," Vignette said. "All our promotional material does right now is just put the number two next to the Name of the Movie That Did Well, and call it a day. Which I can totally see the reasoning for, but..." Vignette shrugged. "People want to know that they're not just going to be watching the capital-E Exact same movie over again. Can we promise them that?" Canter stood there, visibly thinking long and hard about the question. Scene 7: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 2)After nearly a full minute of thought, Canter perked up, and ran to his chair, picking up a large stack of stapled papers by its side. "This is the script," he said, handing it to his niece. "I had some creative control over this one, as I always do, and I know we took great pains to avoid just retreading old ground while not alienating people from what they loved about the first Trucks. There's more emphasis on character this time around. A male and female lead, both with fantastic chemistry and great dialogue." He sounded more and more excited as he talked. "But, we still melded all of this with action and high-speed truck chases. We wanted people to really care about these sentient trucks who talk a bunch, not to mention their human friends. Really show the bonds." He chuckled. "We axed the military invasion subplot to fit all that other stuff in. That'll probably lose us some viewers, but our studio literally has an army movie being made across the lot to grab their money." Vignette gasped as she flipped through the script's pages. Now she was getting just as excited. "You're making me want to watch this! Have we done any advertising for everything you just said, yet? Because I promise you, the people don't know this." "Well, no," Canter said, with a sheepish hand behind his head. "We were actually wondering if we shouldn't hedge our bets on that. Go the safe advertising route. We've got our social media people making sure folks know that the movie's coming, but it really is just 'hey, it's the sequel to that thing you liked'." "Yah, about that. It's been a week since that trailer's dropped, and coverage is, like, almost zero. We need to get people interested again," Vignette said. "I know I'm not part of the promos committee, but my thoughts are that we struck with this knowledge now, we could cut a trailer that shows that Trucks II is deeper than being 'just the sequel', and willing to swing for the fences! Even if it's bad, people would be interested in seeing just where it goes!" She grinned wide. "But my uncle doesn't make bad movies." Canter thought some more, before smiling from the corner of his mouth. "Damn straight, I don't. At least, not anymore. Tell you what. Finish your research, get a pitch for your strategy together. I'll set up a meeting with marketing." Vignette's eyebrows shot up. Did she hear that right? "Seriously, Uncle C? You capital-M Mean It?" "Capital-R Really," Canter said. "I always have my hands full just making sure these movies are good as they are. I don't usually get to worry about the public reception until way later in the process, which is why we trust our promo departments." He rolled his eyes. "But I just keep hearing from them that everything's just hunky dory and right on schedule. Which baffles and slightly angers me, the more I think about it. What's the point of staying 'on brand' if we don't know what our brand is, or could be?" Vignette nodded energetically. "I totally agree! I'll get right on it!" She threw her arms around her uncle, kissing him on the cheek again. "Thank you so much!" "Of course," he said, just as he and Vignette watched a shorter, green-haired girl run up to them, practically slamming herself into Canter's body with a side-embrace. The girl smiled up at both of them, braces glinting in the artificial light. "And who have we here?" Canter said, tousling the girl's hair. "Hey there, Junie. Enjoying your stay?" Scene 8: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 3)"Are you kidding, Uncle Canter?" the younger girl said, running and twirling around Vignette and their uncle. "Applewood. Is. Awesome! I'm in a movie wherever I go and it's the best!" She parked herself back in front of Canter, sticking out her tongue. "Took long enough for Daddy to bring me here." "Well, this sure takes me back," Vignette chuckled. "Heh heh. My brother's visiting from Canterlot City, and as you can see, he brought his daughter," Canter said. "She's been running around here all day. Juniper Montage, this is Vignette Valencia, your older cousin. You probably have a lot of questions since you haven't really met before—" Juniper cut him off with a loud gasp, turning to Vignette with wide eyes and gaping mouth. "I know all about you!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. Vignette did a double-take. "Wait, you do? How?" "Your videos!" Juniper said, miming all sorts of daring adventures using inventive hand and arm motions. "I saw you ride down Neighagra Falls just to get pictures of the Special Spectacle location shoot! And your tour of Manehattan was amazing, especially when you compared movie abandoned subway tunnel sets to real abandoned subway tunnels." Juniper spread her arms, quoting a line Vignette knew by heart. "'Vignette Valencia: afraid of nowhere, styling everywhere!'" Vignette couldn't help but blush. She knew she had a mild following, but it wasn't as if she were some million-follower online celebrity or anything; just a movie industry fan-vlogger. Who knew she had more of a reach than she thought? Heck, who knew she had reach at all? She knelt down, running her hand over Juniper's hair with a huge grin. "Well, look who's a superfan!" she said. "I never expected my viewerbase to skew so young, but if they all have your exquisite taste, I'm not complaining." Juniper squealed, holding up balled fists. "Can... can we hang out together? You know, like friends?" Vignette stood back up, putting her fingers to her chin in thought. "I don't know. I'd love to, but I also technically have a real job here. Unless Uncle C doesn't mind you tagging along whole I run back and forth fetching things for our crew." "What, are you kidding?" Canter scoffed. "I'll finally know where she is for the first time since she got here. But yeah, good call—we're gonna need some refills." He handed Vignette a piece of paper filled with writing—orders for specially made caffeinated drinks. "Unlimited coffee on site, no one will drink it. I don't even know why we bother." "We may as well just have the studio buy one of the specialty shops," Vignette chuckled. "Believe me, I've pitched the idea, it's not completely out of the question." Canter rolled his eyes. "How fast can you get these back to us? Our lead actor will not go on set without his mocha." "Leave it to me," Vignette said. "Come on, Juniper, follow me." Juniper did so as Vignette walked towards the set's exit. "Where are we going?" "Starcolts," Vignette said. "Just a few blocks down." "The coffee shop?" Juniper made a face. "Blech." "They serve smoothies too." Vignette looked over to Juniper, with an inviting smile. "I'll buy you one, hows that sound?" Juniper brightened. "Will you talk about your awesome adventures, too?" Vignette relished the warm feeling in her chest. She could get used to this. "Anything for a fan. But I'm afraid today's adventure is just being a gofer." "Okay." Juniper shrugged. "But you, uh, don't really have the teeth for that. Yours are, like, perfect." Vignette outright laughed. "Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine." Scene 9: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 4)"Stay close to me, Juniper," Vignette said, holding Juniper's hand as she walked across the lot to her car. "The studio lot's pretty safe, but Applewood itself can still be dangerous if you don't know where you're going." "I know!" Juniper chirped. "Daddy warned me, it's why I've been on the lot all day. But it's fine now! Because I'm with someone super safe and fearless!" She started to chant again. "Vignette Valencia, afraid of—" "Oh my gosh, please stop being all formal and worship-py," Vignette interrupted. "It actually capital-F Freaks me out." "Oh." Juniper faltered. "I'm sorry." "No, no, it's nothing to apologize about." Vignette smiled down at Juniper. "Like I said, I love having adoring fans, but you're so much more than that. You're... like, family, you know?" Juniper nodded. "Plus, it's a mouthful," Vignette went on. "Feel free to talk to me about other things than just what you know about me from the Internet. Also, you don't have to say my whole name. 'Val' will totally do." Juniper gasped, loud and long. "Really, Val?" "See? Rolls off the tongue already," Vignette said. Pretty much no one gets to call me that, either." Juniper squealed as they entered Vignette's yellow sport coupe. "Thanks, Val! I promise I'll do everything I can to deserve it." "Pssh, you'll so be fine," Vignette said, gunning the engine and driving out the lot. "I promise." Juniper's palms remained pasted onto the passenger side window's glass as she watched Vignette's car pass by building after building in downtown Applewood. Vignette, of course, was more than used to the glitz of the city by now, and even its more rustic parts. From her time as a tour guide, however, she knew that newcomers were always utterly enthralled, and Juniper was no exception. "This is amazing," Juniper said, pointing to a multi-tiered shingled house. "I want to live there. No, wait, wait, I want to live there," she corrected herself, pointing to an apartment building, then to a mall center the size of a small town. "And I wanna work there!" "Heh. As usual, good eyes," Vignette said. "But trust me, take a trip out to the suburbs while you're here. That's where the really swank mansions are." "Pfft. Suburbs are boring," Juniper said, sitting back down in her seat and crossing her arms. Vignette stopped at a red light, and looked over to Juniper, who suddenly looked far less enthused than she had been a minute ago. "Well, color me surprised. I heard that Canterlot City's suburbs are some of the best in the country. Trees, peace and quiet, historical landmarks..." "Yeah," Juniper said. "Like I said. Boring." She perked up. "I know! I could live on the studio lot! I could live in the movies!" She reached over, grabbing Vignette's arm. "Something cool and exciting's always happening in the movies! And..." She looked away. "People are nicer in them, too." Vignette looked down at Juniper with a quizzical expression. "Are you saying people aren't nice to you already? Someone as tuned in and with perfect taste as you are?" She tilted Juniper's chin up so that they were face-to-face. "Don't lie to me. You have to be absolutely drowning in friends." Juniper fell silent. Vignette sighed. Kids never changed in their meanness, she supposed. "Let me let you in on a little secret. I used to be a loner, too. Not by choice, I just wasn't well-liked. Especially by the other girls in school." She rolled her eyes. "Never appreciated a girl with vision, they did. It's fine, they'll go broke soon enough. But it wasn't soon enough for me back then. So you know what I did?" "What'd you do?" Juniper asked, her voice betraying just the slightest bit of hoping against hope. "I figured, if people wouldn't come to me, I'd bring myself to them. And that's how I got the idea to start my vlog series, and I got eyeballs in front of me. Put myself out there. Became a capital-S Star—well, relatively speaking. And look at me now! You've hardly met me in person, but you love me, right?" Vignette preened. Juniper giggled. "Well, yeah." "That's the fast track to respect," Vignette said. "When people have reasons, reasons you can list off, keep track of, to like you... then they will. And it looks like we've both got the cinematic blood in us. Don't hesitate to use it." Juniper looked up, meeting Vignette's eyes with sparkling ones of her own. "Thanks, Val." "Think nothing of it, sweetie." The light turned green. Vignette drove one more block, then parked her car in front of a gleaming, upscale brick building which read "Starcolts Coffee" in green and white letters. She got out of the car and scoffed, blowing her bangs away from her immediate field of vision. Odd, she thought. This location had been a bookstore just last month. "Ugh," she muttered. "Seriously, these things'll be everywhere soon." Scene 10: #BestReunionEverJuniper Montage stared at Vignette Valencia, quiet and blinking. Vignette stared back from Juniper's front steps—after almost having dropped the umbrella she was using to shield herself from the rain. It was that much of a shock to see just how much her little cousin had grown in not even a decade's time. But it still had been too long. "Hey, Junie," Vignette said, just before instantly regretting using the nickname. As if she had the right, anymore. Even after their Applewood tour, they'd used to talk on the phone all the time, for years, before drifting apart—or, one should say, before Vignette's career and online presence had started to take off. Slowly but surely, Vignette started declining Juniper's offers to hang out or spend time together, because she logistically couldn't. She'd always been traveling, chasing the next "opportunity" and chance for "exposure." Eventually, Juniper had stopped calling. Vignette heard from Canter Zoom that she'd started interning in a studio he often used in Canterlot City. At the time, she put it out of sight and mind—good that Juniper finally found something else to take up her time, she'd remembered thinking. And that was the last either had heard from the other. Until today. Things were still silent except for the rain. Juniper hadn't replied. Of course she wouldn't. She shouldn't, Vignette thought, berating herself. This was a mistake. This was such a mistake— "Val?" a wide-eyed Juniper said, slowly. "Is... that really you?" Vignette stifled a gasp. "Yeah, it's me," she said, looking away. "Sorry I haven't... you know." She just barely heard Juniper take a step forward, then another. She chanced turning her head forward again, and saw Juniper standing under Vignette's umbrella, right in front of her, with a happy, genuine smile. The next thing she knew, Juniper's arms were around her, and she heard a shaky whisper in her ear: "I'm so happy to see you again." Vignette's mind spun. It'd been years. She'd deserted her! Juniper should be furious! Vignette surely would have been, if a client... no, if a contact... Wait, no. None of those described Juniper, did they? As she felt Juniper's warmth against her, she realized that this really did feel like home. Half of her felt even worse about leaving Juniper in the lurch. The other half, however, was simply overjoyed to be here now. "But... why?" Vignette barely managed to utter. Still smiling, Juniper replied, "Duh. 'Cause I'm more than a fan." Her grin got bigger, showing teeth. "Besides, I knew you couldn't stay away from me forever. I'm irresistible." That caught Vignette off guard. She laughed, loud and long. "Wow, I really did rub off on you, didn't I?" Juniper's voice and expression sobered. "A bit, yeah. At least I thought you did." She looked closer, studying Vignette's face. "Okay, but not gonna lie? I've... never seen you without a completely confident smile before. Kinda weirding me out. Isn't that bad for PR?" Vignette gave a small smile back. "It would be, if I cared." She hesitated, then went for it. "I know this is super #ShortNotice, but do you..." Another hesitation, another deep breath, before nodding towards her yellow sportscar. "...want to catch up?" Juniper looked lost in thought for several moments, before nodding. "Two conditions. First, let me change my blouse." "Sure. What's the other?" Vignette asked. Juniper's toothy grin was back. "Anywhere but Starcolts." Scene 11: #ThingsChangeFor Juniper, riding shotgun in the Vignettemobile consisted of long stretches of quiet cruising, followed by the occasional sudden stop and loud rant in trendy vocabulary that would have made zero sense to anyone who didn't spend all their time online. In other words, it was instantly nostalgic. Juniper wondered how she had ever managed to live without the experience all these years. She resisted the urge to indulge her inner child by way of rolling down the window and poking her head out. Fortunately the rain helped with that; not to mention her hair becoming longer and more unwieldy as she got older. Keeping her preferred ponytails perfectly pristine was an eternity of work that the world would never understand. That said, the windows weren't helping much closed, either. The rain had worsened since they'd started their trip, and the large splattering pelts against the glass meant that she could hardly see where they were going from her side of things. The sportscar's wipers seemed to work well enough for Vignette's aggressive-defensive driving, however, and before long, Juniper noticed several bright, colorful and... familiar lights shining through the her waterlogged point of view as Vignette pulled into a parking lot. "Um, Val..." Juniper said, cracking the window slightly and verifying the sign that those lights illuminated, "what are we doing at Canterlot Mall?" She turned to Vignette with a grin. "I know movies are always behind the times, but you do know The Mall hasn't been the hip 'teen scene' hangout for, like, years, right?" She finger-quoted to get her joke across. Vignette huffed. "Ugh, yeah, it's not exactly the Houvre. But okay, you're a Canterlot native—name one higher-profile place that doesn't require us to drive an hour downtown." "Sure! Just hit up—" Juniper raised her finger, ready to fire back a response... just before realizing she had none. "Aw, crap baskets," she said, deflating. Vignette turned off the engine, laying back in her seat with a chuckling sigh. "Junie, Junie, Junie. I've said it once, and I have a feeling I'll be saying it a hundred more times: you have got to get out of suburbia. Seriously, I've let you get away with living here this long because school, but you're college material now. About ready to see the world. And there's so much more out there. I was riding down waterfalls at your age, remember?" "Okay, for starters, pick some new turns of phrases," Juniper laid back in her own seat, waving a dismissive hand. "You're not that much older than me." "That's #SweetOfYouToSay, thanks." Vignette turned the car light on, examining her nails. "And that's also what I mean. You know what happened to PostCrush when they decided to go on hiatus?" Juniper blinked. "Who?" Vignette preened, slipping her fingers through her hair. "Two-girl pop duo, really, really big. The hottest for, like, a good couple of years. I had trouble getting interviews. But then, out of the blue, they decided to just not play anymore. To not go for it anymore." "'Whoa,' on all counts. Okay," Juniper said, humoring her cousin. "What happened when they stopped?" Vignette turned to look at Juniper. "The world moved on and found someone else. Where are they now? No one knows, and no one cares except for tabloids. But they, at least, had their fifteen minutes. You, though? You have way too much trend potential for it to be wasting away here like a kale salad left out in the sun." As Juniper digested Vignette's words, memories surfaced. Memories of the mall they were about to enter, and of herself 'trending', just as Vignette had suggested—except for all the wrong reasons. She crossed her arms. "I... I like it here," she said, softly and pouting. "Just me and my friends. I don't want anything else." "Oooh, it's nice to hear the 'f' word," Vignette said. "You'll have to tell me more inside. And your movie ambitions? Next you'll be telling me you live on a studio lot after all." Vignette chuckled. Juniper fell silent. Vignette raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Things have changed."
Scene 1: #SelfCareVignette Valencia savored the blending scents of espresso and tea leaves, while sitting at her usual booth in her usual Starcolts—of which there were twelve in this part of town alone, and which she made sure to rotate between with every visit. Why wouldn't she? Starcolts coffeeshops were practically on every street corner these days—or at least, if they weren't now, they threatened to be quite soon. They'd already taken over every inch of nearby Manehattan, not to mention what she saw on her most recent trips to Applewood and Seaddle... oh, forget about it. It was only a matter of time before Canterlot City was swept under completely. Or, as Vignette always put it: #CantStopTheUnstoppable. Not that it was a bad thing as far as she was concerned. It was nice to know that she could always have the same, reliable, consistent drinking experience without having a crazy fan being able to deduce her regular hangouts and thus stalk her. One could never be too careful—online, or offline, for that matter. Her booth was in the back corner, as far away as possible from all of the schlubby, wrinkled-shirt-and-blouse-wearing unsuccessful freelancers with their overpriced laptops that they were surely still making payments on. Vignette knew better. All she'd ever needed was her smartphone. She stared out the window, musing over the rainy weather as she sipped her grande chai latte with vanilla, cinnamon and the slightest hint of extra foam but not too much foam if there was even a chance of overflow she made sure to always file a complaint with that specific barista by name. In Vignette's experience, it was the only way they ever learned. Perfect poise, legs crossed, pinky outstretched, two cup sleeves to make sure her skin was protected from the elements as she drank her ambrosia. She took an extra-long sugary sip, closed her eyes, and loosed a high-pitched sigh, charitably allowing all present the privilege of basking in the mere language of her unique brand of Valencian ecstasy. Life. Truly. Was. Bliss. Once. More. Which was more than she could say for the week she'd just been through. Against her better judgment, Vignette unlocked her phone, looking over Canterlot City's local entertainment news and social media feeds, searching for a particular hashtag. Too soon for her tastes, she found it: #EquestriaLand. Which had been a success... technically? The rides had worked out fine, the fashions and costumes she'd picked out—yes, the designers once under her temporary employ counted, as they'd all been her delegates, so didn't that mean she was ultimately responsible for the fruit of their efforts?—had also worked out fine. The park had all worked out fine. The opening festivities that she'd headlined herself, only partly of her own volition... less so. Which was just as well, seeing as she was no longer affiliated with Equestria Land, as public relations manager or otherwise. It was a mutual decision she and her corporate superiors had come to, after recorded footage of the parade had been analyzed, on-stage dialogue included, and she'd been questioned about it. It turned out that they didn't like her constant shrugs over what happened, even if they were all she'd had to give. Every time she tried to remember what she'd done and said back then, the memories were only of someone she... didn't quite like. Yet she could never come up with a reason as to actually why she'd acted the way she had, or how her phone had suddenly turned into seriously a sci-fi teleportation device what Wait, not sci-fi Something about magic Seriously That was what they were going with sure okay Vignette sighed, resting her cheek on her palm. 'Magic' was indeed what Rarity and those other girls said had infected Vignette's device, requiring her to buy a new one because of course warranty wasn't going to cover it. Thank heavens for cloud saving so far as her contacts list was concerned. That said, she hadn't tried contacting those girls back yet. She'd still been too angry at the time. Angry enough to maybe throw a glass of water in one of her questioning superior's faces a day later. Yes. Mutual decision. Still very much their loss. Still, she'd come out... not badly, all things considered. She'd have to find new work, which wouldn't be too hard given her contact and follower count. The latter had taken a hit, but not by all that much. Also, something something extending the hand of true #IRLFriendship being worth more than a thousand followers a pop whatevs— Vignette shook her head to shake out the cynicism. That was unfair of her. Rarity and 'Applejack' (only now did the name click for her; the latter certainly had some halfway decent fruit fashion theming going on) had been genuine in their sentiments, from what she could tell. They had to have been, to do what they'd done, to forgive her even in the wake of how Vignette had treated them while she was still Rarity's boss. But Rarity... that was one. One in a literal million. One to watch. And watch she would. Eventually. Once she got herself back in order. Vignette Valencia's life was one where millions of people watched her every move—or at least, every move she deemed shareable. She'd bounced back from worse. Now, as then, all she needed to do was rebuild. And to do that, she first needed to get home dry. As if hearing her thoughts, she heard—then watched—the rain fall harder. Vignette groaned, first grousing at the lousy weather... ...then brightening with an idea.
Scene 2: #SelfieScienceVignette puffed herself up as the rain continued. Fine, then. She was a master of getting her way, but if one couldn't get what she wanted by direct request, then turning lemons into lemonade was always the next best thing. #MakeTheWorldWorkForYou. All right, Valencia: power selfie time. She fluffed her vest, straightened her hair, used her infinite supply of moist towelettes and several nearby napkins to make sure the table was 101% sanitary, opened the blinds of the window near her, and sat on the booth table. She reached into her purse again, digging out her extendable selfie stick, and mounted her phone upon it with one hand. This was a delicate operation already, but it would be so worth it for the perfect shot, the perfect mood piece! A few reinforcing swishes of eyeshadow, some restorative blush on her cheeks to bring herself back to pristine appearance... oh, did she want lipstick? She decided that she did. Peach gloss: on. Check self in pocket mirror, check self in camera, blink, blink, kiss kiss. Just about there. Applicators and brushes, back in the purse. It was finally time for the true Facemask: metaphorical in comparison to what she'd just been doing, but a practiced art form, a Vignette Valencia original, all the same. One perfect smile, with perfectly slanted, seductive eyebrows, and perfectly lidded eyes just to drive the message home for the slower folks. Cross legs once more, pick up selfie stick, tilt phone just so to make sure as much of herself plus the weather was in view, then raise cup to lips. She looked at herself in the phone's screen. Perfection. As always. She may not have been "perfect" as a person—who was?—but she could pull off the perfect look 120% of the time. Fall in love with me, world. She snapped the picture, suppressing a giggle. I mean, I would. After several more snaps encompassing several of the tiniest body language tweaks, she checked her photos until she found one she was satisfied with showing the world at large—after some selective cropping, of course. She got off of the table, cleaned it yet again, and sat back at her booth, just in time to see the rain tapering off, back into a drizzle. She rolled her eyes, huffing through pursed lips. Of course. No matter, she'd already taken advantage of the opportunity while it'd been present, and made it work for her. All that was left was to open Snapgab, upload picture, add her flavor text: "Rainy day relax-caffeine. Ironic, or avant-garde? #StillMe #StillGlorious #BangsForever" ...and, finally, Send. Done. Off to two and a half million followers still willing to hang on her every word, even after last week's fiasco. For a second, she felt like her old self. Like she could do anything. Then, just as quickly, a cavern opened in her chest, and those comfortable feelings disappeared into a black hole. Oh, no. Not again.
Scene 3: #SelfDisillusionmentThe cavern expanded as she watched people open her post: an action signified by view count—an eyeball icon next to a number—and nothing else. And yet, a hollowness, a yearning dissatisfaction she hadn't felt in months, threatened to overtake her completely as the number of views went up... slowly. Far more slowly than normal. Far too slowly for her tastes. A little thumb icon counted up as well, her post being "liked" by likes by hundreds of nicknames she'd never known as people, but had never felt the need to. Until recently. Trouble was, the more she encountered this feeling, the more she hated it. Now, anyways. Not before. But now... Vignette held in a sigh. It used to be so... validating. At least, that's what she always told herself as she forced herself to push down the doubt, the questioning, the trepidation and apprehension that came with every post, that gnawing that she'd become a pro at defeating without a second thought every time she pressed the Send button. But now, as she sat watching arbitrary numbers go up, all she could think of was the revelation she'd come to after Rarity had admonished her: "I have three million followers, but no real friends. How pathetic is that?" What even is a friend? Vignette thought to herself, resting her chin on a closed hand as she idly scrolled through her feeds. Have I ever... actually had any? Would I even know if I had? She thought back years, back over her life, a life that was marked mostly by her entrepreneurial endeavors—selling makeshift lipstick as a girl (melted crayon wax was still technically wax!), selling old garage-sale vinyl records during the digital music boom as a teenager (they'd become mass-market collector's items, right?), handling PR for Applewood movies (which had gone great until she'd run into that one movie with the talking fruits that everyone had said would be a shoo-in; it turned out that no amount of marketing or PR could have saved that trainwreck) and doing the same for amusement parks around the country. Vignette Valencia had been everywhere, seen everyone, and all of those people had myriad titles in relation to herself: Customers. Clients. Enemies. Bosses. Employees. Fans. Oh, so many fans. And yet, so many of her travels were punctuated by... exactly what she was doing now. Sitting in a Starcolts in any town, any city, that anyone could name... alone. It had always been a constant. But it was one she'd assured herself just came with the territory. #FirstSuccessThenTheWorld. But what if she'd been wrong? How many years of her life, of her beauty, would she have wasted? She'd be hitting the big three-oh sooner than later, and she refused to take it lying down when it happened. Vignette's phone vibrated, knocking her out of her reverie. Oh! There were comments already. Odd, given how soon her picture had been posted. Usually, everyone took some time to gape in awe before telling her how much they wanted to be her and how impeccable her fashion sense was. But given how she was feeling, she could use the pick-me-ups. She opened the comments. And spit out her chai in horror. Very few of them were flattering. The largest, loudest responses, instead, consisted of pictures of her from the Equestria Land parade. Pictures of her wielding her old phone, waving it like some crazed maniac (because, let's face it, she sort of had been). Pictures of her being blasted by what looked like a magical light show by those teenage girls (oh, if they'd only known). Comparison memes involving her previously-posted pictures and the above footage shots, with awful captions like "#BANGS/#FANGS"—and "WITH OUTFITS LIKE THOSE/I'D FIRE HER TOO" pasted over screencaps of her Rainbooms outfit choices (which she'd admittedly been regretting more and more every day #MistakesWereMade). All annoying, all insensitive, and, as usual, all in huge capitalized Impact font. She'd grown to despise Impact. Who didn't, though? It was a boorish font used by uncivilized savages! Helvetica, Arial, Times, even Courier for that old-school feel—those were what you used if you wanted anyone to consider you someone worth conversing with! Ugh, even Comic Sans would have served them better. How dare they? Against every bone in her body that knew better, every instinct that knew how to stay calm under pressure and accusations and cameras and flashing lights, Vignette felt herself getting incensed. This was her space! It'd taken her forever to carve a space where could be truly appreciated, where she could control that appreciation, and here it was being... grrr... Invaded! She slammed her phone onto the table, rolling her eyes in a huff. Still a week and people haven't forgotten? I made one little mistake! Okay, one big mistake. But still! Just one! On camera. In public. With the world watching. Ugh. Vignette crossed her arms on the table, dropping her head into them. There has to be something I can do, isn't there?
Scene 4: #NoLongerMyselfAt a loss for the moment, Vignette decided the best thing to do was look back on happier times. She closed her current timeline, and went into her archives. Going back to her older posts, looking at these older pictures, even from merely two weeks ago, felt... odd and off. She'd listened to many a creative media client talk about going back to their old work with disdain, but she'd put their rants out of mind back then, because #BeautyIsForever. Or perhaps not, she surmised. Not the way she shot things. Honestly, some of these poses—sloppy and shameless. Some of these angles... oh, this one of her last year, at the Riviera Hotel's pool! What was she thinking? You could barely see anything for all of the water that got onto the camera's field of view. A total waste of... however much it had cost her then-employer to put her up in the swankiest hotel in Vanhoover. She hadn't bothered looking at the bill. And yet. And yet this awful picture still got half a million likes anyway, and dozens of happy comments. Which, she reminded herself, was what she was here for right now. At least, the supportive responses could take her mind off of the riffraff currently invading her— Vignette nearly choked. The memes were on her older posts now, too. Hardly as numerous as her few most recent posts, but some terrible, terrible subhumans were truly dedicated. Vignette considered herself a benevolent soul, but enough was enough! Blocked, reported, would delete in 24 hours once community management got a look at the evidence. She knew people at Snapgab, damn it. Her phone buzzed again. She clicked the notification, which took her this time to news clips and real footage of the parade itself. Her brow furrowed. Even though most outlets had chalked the parade up to a light show... some online outlets had started digging. And it appeared articles with headlines like "Vignette Valencia: Malevolent Magician?" and "Behind The #EquestriaLand Parade: Anonymous Accounts" were gaining just enough traction to make her uncomfortable. Vignette had weathered scandals before. (She'd engineered a few, even, but that was beside the point right now.) They'd burn out in a few days, to be sure—they always did—or even weeks, so long as she continued living, and didn't give the slanderers any ammunition. But, she had to admit as she felt a swelling in her eyes she hadn't been acquainted with in quite some time, she did not need this right now! She wiped her eyes with a spare tissue. "Rainbooms: trending, my public: condescending. So this is what the people truly think," she whispered, even as she was hit with even more notifications of ever-rising likes from the masses. "Perfect image officially failed, I suppose." Vignette could see the falling dominoes for what they were, and they didn't look pretty. First this, then, surely, her entire career. Why had she ever signed up for these stupid social media things in the first place? Ugh. Honestly, she had contacts in film and TV once upon a time, but no, Vignette Valencia just always had to be on the cutting edge! Her phone sounded once more. She almost reflexively threw it across the shop, but the back of her mind realized upon viewing her screen that it was a notification for... a direct Snapgab message? People rarely sent her those, now that she thought about it. When they originally had, they tended to be stalkers, but that was before she changed her settings to only receive from followers she mutually followed in turn, which trimmed the list of potential senders considerably. Not to mention, this message had an actual user pic attached, whereas most stalkers tended not to. It was a user picture that she almost recognized, but not exactly—a cute green-haired chibi girl's head flashing a V-sign with a wink. With a shrug, Vignette clicked it open and read. "OMG Val!! I totally love how this is shot! Great use of weather and pose to make a mood piece! Applewood much? lol! Hope you're good!" Multiple heart emoji punctuated the proceedings. Mere moments after she'd read those sentence fragments, Vignette already felt... different. As if all of humanity weren't the worst thing ever after all. (Just 99 percent of it.) Who was this angel, come to deliver her from #SocialMediaBlues? She clicked the sender's user picture, and read their profile. My first follower. The one person she ever allowed to call her "Val", now that she thought about it. The one person on her followers list she actually knew outside of her online space that wasn't a Customer, Client, Enemy, Boss, Employee, Ex-Employee, or Fan (oh, there were so many fans). She... would she listen to me? Vignette pressed "Reply," ready to write out a letter, thank her for the compliments, pour out her heart. Then she realized the platform she was on. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many questions she wanted to ask, to someone who would really listen... and someone to who she wouldn't need to make a million tiny apologies to beforehand for being the world's worst boss first. Rarity was back in her head once more, her words from the Equestria Land opening parade suddenly hitting home. Her words about having a real friend. I've had one of you the entire time, haven't I? The entrepreneurial and public relations spotlight life, as compelling and full of perks as it was... Vignette sometimes had to admit, was also lonely. As lonely as a vision of perfection had to be. Listening to others was her job, getting people to pay attention to the marketing line, just as much so. But being listened to, simply as herself... to say those times came at a premium would be the understatement of the century. She looked at the user picture again, her phone in both hands as she stared at the screen pensively. But I didn't know it. Would you even want to listen to me, after I've ignored you for so long? After even more thought, Vignette put down her cup, packed her things, and left the shop. She fastened her vest as she looked out into the rain, and opened her umbrella to protect her as she walked to her car. I'm willing to chance it.
Scene 5: #SelfEmployment"You've come to the right place, Rarity. If I do say so myself." A bright-skinned, bright-eyed, green-haired girl paced across her house in a matching green blouse and black skirt. She could hear the rain outside, and was thus very glad to be inside, where the rain could do its job and be soothing and water the world's plants—and probably also a certain girlfriend, she thought with a chuckle—while being nowhere near her hair. After a month of shooting her last movie through a whole bunch of rainy days... well, she'd say it was nothing personal, but she'd be lying. Juniper Montage adjusted the volume on her wireless headset so as to better hear her prospective client on the other line. "So, I'll level with you—the bulk of my experience lies in motion pictures. Still, the only significant differences between film and onscreen advertising are runtime and message. In other words..." She grinned, pushing her violet glasses more securely atop the bridge of her nose. "There's no project Juniper Montage can't conquer." "Oh, that's utterly divine to hear! I must thank you again," Rarity said on the other end of the line. "I realize our working budget for this isn't exactly Applewood-grade, but..." "Not a problem," Juniper said. "Gigs like these still pay way more than movie usher stuff. Besides, it's not like this is going in a theater or on public TV or anything." She flopped onto, and stretched out on the living room couch, grabbing a pen and paper from the nearby coffee table. "This is new media! Social media! Grassroots and relatability is the name of the game, here." Juniper could feel herself getting positively excited as she thought of the possibilities. "Less prepared, edited, processed glitz, and more reality. And lucky for you, the Montage is now officially in the reality zone." Juniper started scribbling notes. "So to start off, we'll need to talk theming. When people see Carousel Boutique, even just the silhouette of the building, what do you want them to think? How do you want them to feel? What do you want their reality to be?" "Ooh, what wonderful questions from the jump!" Rarity exclaimed. "Honestly, it's times like this I wish we had our own, separate building instead of a wedged one fused to a city block." Her voice lilted with the air of a daydream. "I would design it to look exactly like a carousel." Juniper blinked as she tried to visualize what that would look like. For some reason, her mind kept getting stuck on horses. "We'll, uh, file that under workshop concepts," she said, writing "carousel imagery—total last resort?" in the far right margins. "However, when I say 'theming', I mean in terms of ideals. What do you want customers to symbolize with Carousel Boutique, in terms of making their lives better? What reality do you want to provide them, while also living up to your claims?" "Hmmm." Juniper could practically hear Rarity putting her fingers to her chin on the other end of the line. "Well, we want Carousel Boutique to be known as a place where anyone can come in, and become anyone they desire. That's our main goal, I believe." "Metamorphosis!" Juniper snapped her fingers. "I love it already." She twirled the pencil in her fingers. "People come inside. It's warm and inviting. They move amongst the clothes, feel the softness of the fabric, see the exquisite designs, get touch-ups at your mini-salon, sparkles optional!" She gestured across the sky. "And then... a new you walks out, able to love the world, because you love who you are." "'Come as who you are, leave as who you desire', 'love yourself, love the world'... captain to skipper, perfect slogans, dead ahead!" Rarity squealed. "Juniper, you're a miracle worker!" "More like great minds think alike," Juniper replied. "But this is awesome! We now have a baseline desired message and aesthetic goal! So, next things: scripting, and resources! I'll need to tour your shop in order to—" Juniper's doorbell rang. "Whoop, hang on. I'll be right back. I swear, if it's another salesman..." "Oh, don't get me started on solicitors," Rarity said. "I'll be right here." Juniper walked to her front door, opened it, and was promptly impressed by just how effectively the sight now in front of her threw her out of the Reality Zone. "Yeah. Um. Rarity?" Juniper slowly said, as she stared, agape, at her long-lost cousin standing in the doorway. "I'll, uh... call you back."
Scene 6: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 1)Applewood Years Earlier Vignette Valencia walked across the length of the spacious movie studio, stifling a tired yawn as she did so. Along the way, she passed several mementos of past productions: myriad sets for every genre, from mock spaceship bridges to mock jungles to not-so-mock urban city blocks. She passed lights, umbrellas, superhero costumes, prop weapons, ropes, and even a large animatronic tyrannosaurus rex. The T-Rex in particular was under strict orders to be protected by all on the lot—after all, it'd made its corporate masters a veritable mint with just one movie. Quite frankly, Vignette thought Rexy (her pet name for it) would be far better served as a tourist attraction, to be celebrated by the people—not unlike the fictional park it had starred in—but she knew she was far too low on the food chain for those opinions to carry any weight. One day. For now, she walked past the crew for the current production's set, blowing kisses to all present, from grips to makeup, until she at last reached the director's chair, where a stout, bearded man sat. She opened her mouth to greet him, but another yawn came out first. Vignette quickly moved her hand to her mouth. "Huh. Well, that's embarrassing. Morning, boss," she singsonged. "Pretend you never saw that, mkay?" "Only if you explain why it even happened in the first place, and for the love of everything, quit calling me 'boss'." The stout director—Canter Zoom—rolled his eyes. "You already know I hate that." Vignette chuckled. "Sorry, Uncle C. Forgot for a second, and for the same reason." She sat in a nearby chair, lounging with crossed legs and rolling her wrist. "I tried to convince myself that I could do with one less hour of sleep than usual. Was up late looking over the public reaction to our movie's announcement online." Canter nodded. "Yeah, never do that again, okay? The sleep-dep thing, I mean. The well-being of my crew is important to me, and you're part of that." "I'll be alright," she said, standing to plant a kiss to her uncle's cheek. "But thanks for thinking of me." "Your mother would kill me if I didn't," Canter said, stroking his chin with a small smile. "But good initiative on the research! Come across anything good?" "'Good' is in the eye of the beholder, in this case." Vignette opened the beige messenger bag she'd brought with her, taking out several printouts. "The buzz around Trucks II is... reserved, to say the least. Barely even counts as 'buzz', if I'm being super-honest. More like a mild, disinterested humming." Canter raised his eyebrows. "Really.? That's not what I've heard. I was told public response so far has been 'on trajectory.'" Vignette gasped, and laughed. "Oh, I just love coming across new sleazy buzzwords! I'll have to steal that one." She paced around her uncle, taking in the nearby sights of the set—wind machines, a green screen and two large scale-model eighteen-wheelers—with a playful air. "With all due respect to them—but mainly you, Uncle C—that's because they're not in the know. They're old. They sit in isolated, stuffy offices, and look at the communication methods of today's people as tools at best, rather than... well, mediums. And always with disdain and disregard. It's absolutely the worst." "So you're saying there's something our marketing and promotion departments are missing?" Canter asked. "Only in capital-A Awareness," Vignette replied. "I'm sure they're very skilled people who know how to market and promote, but there are rooms that some people just don't know how to read. Especially if they didn't get in on the ground floor." "Hmmm." Canter stroked his chin again. "Let's say I believe you. Which I'm inclined to. But... I mean, everyone loved Trucks, and this movie's literally called Trucks II: the Truckening. What more do people want?" "I think that's it," Vignette said. "All our promotional material does right now is just put the number two next to the Name of the Movie That Did Well, and call it a day. Which I can totally see the reasoning for, but..." Vignette shrugged. "People want to know that they're not just going to be watching the capital-E Exact same movie over again. Can we promise them that?" Canter stood there, visibly thinking long and hard about the question.
Scene 7: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 2)After nearly a full minute of thought, Canter perked up, and ran to his chair, picking up a large stack of stapled papers by its side. "This is the script," he said, handing it to his niece. "I had some creative control over this one, as I always do, and I know we took great pains to avoid just retreading old ground while not alienating people from what they loved about the first Trucks. There's more emphasis on character this time around. A male and female lead, both with fantastic chemistry and great dialogue." He sounded more and more excited as he talked. "But, we still melded all of this with action and high-speed truck chases. We wanted people to really care about these sentient trucks who talk a bunch, not to mention their human friends. Really show the bonds." He chuckled. "We axed the military invasion subplot to fit all that other stuff in. That'll probably lose us some viewers, but our studio literally has an army movie being made across the lot to grab their money." Vignette gasped as she flipped through the script's pages. Now she was getting just as excited. "You're making me want to watch this! Have we done any advertising for everything you just said, yet? Because I promise you, the people don't know this." "Well, no," Canter said, with a sheepish hand behind his head. "We were actually wondering if we shouldn't hedge our bets on that. Go the safe advertising route. We've got our social media people making sure folks know that the movie's coming, but it really is just 'hey, it's the sequel to that thing you liked'." "Yah, about that. It's been a week since that trailer's dropped, and coverage is, like, almost zero. We need to get people interested again," Vignette said. "I know I'm not part of the promos committee, but my thoughts are that we struck with this knowledge now, we could cut a trailer that shows that Trucks II is deeper than being 'just the sequel', and willing to swing for the fences! Even if it's bad, people would be interested in seeing just where it goes!" She grinned wide. "But my uncle doesn't make bad movies." Canter thought some more, before smiling from the corner of his mouth. "Damn straight, I don't. At least, not anymore. Tell you what. Finish your research, get a pitch for your strategy together. I'll set up a meeting with marketing." Vignette's eyebrows shot up. Did she hear that right? "Seriously, Uncle C? You capital-M Mean It?" "Capital-R Really," Canter said. "I always have my hands full just making sure these movies are good as they are. I don't usually get to worry about the public reception until way later in the process, which is why we trust our promo departments." He rolled his eyes. "But I just keep hearing from them that everything's just hunky dory and right on schedule. Which baffles and slightly angers me, the more I think about it. What's the point of staying 'on brand' if we don't know what our brand is, or could be?" Vignette nodded energetically. "I totally agree! I'll get right on it!" She threw her arms around her uncle, kissing him on the cheek again. "Thank you so much!" "Of course," he said, just as he and Vignette watched a shorter, green-haired girl run up to them, practically slamming herself into Canter's body with a side-embrace. The girl smiled up at both of them, braces glinting in the artificial light. "And who have we here?" Canter said, tousling the girl's hair. "Hey there, Junie. Enjoying your stay?"
Scene 8: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 3)"Are you kidding, Uncle Canter?" the younger girl said, running and twirling around Vignette and their uncle. "Applewood. Is. Awesome! I'm in a movie wherever I go and it's the best!" She parked herself back in front of Canter, sticking out her tongue. "Took long enough for Daddy to bring me here." "Well, this sure takes me back," Vignette chuckled. "Heh heh. My brother's visiting from Canterlot City, and as you can see, he brought his daughter," Canter said. "She's been running around here all day. Juniper Montage, this is Vignette Valencia, your older cousin. You probably have a lot of questions since you haven't really met before—" Juniper cut him off with a loud gasp, turning to Vignette with wide eyes and gaping mouth. "I know all about you!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down. Vignette did a double-take. "Wait, you do? How?" "Your videos!" Juniper said, miming all sorts of daring adventures using inventive hand and arm motions. "I saw you ride down Neighagra Falls just to get pictures of the Special Spectacle location shoot! And your tour of Manehattan was amazing, especially when you compared movie abandoned subway tunnel sets to real abandoned subway tunnels." Juniper spread her arms, quoting a line Vignette knew by heart. "'Vignette Valencia: afraid of nowhere, styling everywhere!'" Vignette couldn't help but blush. She knew she had a mild following, but it wasn't as if she were some million-follower online celebrity or anything; just a movie industry fan-vlogger. Who knew she had more of a reach than she thought? Heck, who knew she had reach at all? She knelt down, running her hand over Juniper's hair with a huge grin. "Well, look who's a superfan!" she said. "I never expected my viewerbase to skew so young, but if they all have your exquisite taste, I'm not complaining." Juniper squealed, holding up balled fists. "Can... can we hang out together? You know, like friends?" Vignette stood back up, putting her fingers to her chin in thought. "I don't know. I'd love to, but I also technically have a real job here. Unless Uncle C doesn't mind you tagging along whole I run back and forth fetching things for our crew." "What, are you kidding?" Canter scoffed. "I'll finally know where she is for the first time since she got here. But yeah, good call—we're gonna need some refills." He handed Vignette a piece of paper filled with writing—orders for specially made caffeinated drinks. "Unlimited coffee on site, no one will drink it. I don't even know why we bother." "We may as well just have the studio buy one of the specialty shops," Vignette chuckled. "Believe me, I've pitched the idea, it's not completely out of the question." Canter rolled his eyes. "How fast can you get these back to us? Our lead actor will not go on set without his mocha." "Leave it to me," Vignette said. "Come on, Juniper, follow me." Juniper did so as Vignette walked towards the set's exit. "Where are we going?" "Starcolts," Vignette said. "Just a few blocks down." "The coffee shop?" Juniper made a face. "Blech." "They serve smoothies too." Vignette looked over to Juniper, with an inviting smile. "I'll buy you one, hows that sound?" Juniper brightened. "Will you talk about your awesome adventures, too?" Vignette relished the warm feeling in her chest. She could get used to this. "Anything for a fan. But I'm afraid today's adventure is just being a gofer." "Okay." Juniper shrugged. "But you, uh, don't really have the teeth for that. Yours are, like, perfect." Vignette outright laughed. "Oh, you and I are going to get along just fine."
Scene 9: Vignette Valencia: The First Gofer (Pt. 4)"Stay close to me, Juniper," Vignette said, holding Juniper's hand as she walked across the lot to her car. "The studio lot's pretty safe, but Applewood itself can still be dangerous if you don't know where you're going." "I know!" Juniper chirped. "Daddy warned me, it's why I've been on the lot all day. But it's fine now! Because I'm with someone super safe and fearless!" She started to chant again. "Vignette Valencia, afraid of—" "Oh my gosh, please stop being all formal and worship-py," Vignette interrupted. "It actually capital-F Freaks me out." "Oh." Juniper faltered. "I'm sorry." "No, no, it's nothing to apologize about." Vignette smiled down at Juniper. "Like I said, I love having adoring fans, but you're so much more than that. You're... like, family, you know?" Juniper nodded. "Plus, it's a mouthful," Vignette went on. "Feel free to talk to me about other things than just what you know about me from the Internet. Also, you don't have to say my whole name. 'Val' will totally do." Juniper gasped, loud and long. "Really, Val?" "See? Rolls off the tongue already," Vignette said. Pretty much no one gets to call me that, either." Juniper squealed as they entered Vignette's yellow sport coupe. "Thanks, Val! I promise I'll do everything I can to deserve it." "Pssh, you'll so be fine," Vignette said, gunning the engine and driving out the lot. "I promise." Juniper's palms remained pasted onto the passenger side window's glass as she watched Vignette's car pass by building after building in downtown Applewood. Vignette, of course, was more than used to the glitz of the city by now, and even its more rustic parts. From her time as a tour guide, however, she knew that newcomers were always utterly enthralled, and Juniper was no exception. "This is amazing," Juniper said, pointing to a multi-tiered shingled house. "I want to live there. No, wait, wait, I want to live there," she corrected herself, pointing to an apartment building, then to a mall center the size of a small town. "And I wanna work there!" "Heh. As usual, good eyes," Vignette said. "But trust me, take a trip out to the suburbs while you're here. That's where the really swank mansions are." "Pfft. Suburbs are boring," Juniper said, sitting back down in her seat and crossing her arms. Vignette stopped at a red light, and looked over to Juniper, who suddenly looked far less enthused than she had been a minute ago. "Well, color me surprised. I heard that Canterlot City's suburbs are some of the best in the country. Trees, peace and quiet, historical landmarks..." "Yeah," Juniper said. "Like I said. Boring." She perked up. "I know! I could live on the studio lot! I could live in the movies!" She reached over, grabbing Vignette's arm. "Something cool and exciting's always happening in the movies! And..." She looked away. "People are nicer in them, too." Vignette looked down at Juniper with a quizzical expression. "Are you saying people aren't nice to you already? Someone as tuned in and with perfect taste as you are?" She tilted Juniper's chin up so that they were face-to-face. "Don't lie to me. You have to be absolutely drowning in friends." Juniper fell silent. Vignette sighed. Kids never changed in their meanness, she supposed. "Let me let you in on a little secret. I used to be a loner, too. Not by choice, I just wasn't well-liked. Especially by the other girls in school." She rolled her eyes. "Never appreciated a girl with vision, they did. It's fine, they'll go broke soon enough. But it wasn't soon enough for me back then. So you know what I did?" "What'd you do?" Juniper asked, her voice betraying just the slightest bit of hoping against hope. "I figured, if people wouldn't come to me, I'd bring myself to them. And that's how I got the idea to start my vlog series, and I got eyeballs in front of me. Put myself out there. Became a capital-S Star—well, relatively speaking. And look at me now! You've hardly met me in person, but you love me, right?" Vignette preened. Juniper giggled. "Well, yeah." "That's the fast track to respect," Vignette said. "When people have reasons, reasons you can list off, keep track of, to like you... then they will. And it looks like we've both got the cinematic blood in us. Don't hesitate to use it." Juniper looked up, meeting Vignette's eyes with sparkling ones of her own. "Thanks, Val." "Think nothing of it, sweetie." The light turned green. Vignette drove one more block, then parked her car in front of a gleaming, upscale brick building which read "Starcolts Coffee" in green and white letters. She got out of the car and scoffed, blowing her bangs away from her immediate field of vision. Odd, she thought. This location had been a bookstore just last month. "Ugh," she muttered. "Seriously, these things'll be everywhere soon."
Scene 10: #BestReunionEverJuniper Montage stared at Vignette Valencia, quiet and blinking. Vignette stared back from Juniper's front steps—after almost having dropped the umbrella she was using to shield herself from the rain. It was that much of a shock to see just how much her little cousin had grown in not even a decade's time. But it still had been too long. "Hey, Junie," Vignette said, just before instantly regretting using the nickname. As if she had the right, anymore. Even after their Applewood tour, they'd used to talk on the phone all the time, for years, before drifting apart—or, one should say, before Vignette's career and online presence had started to take off. Slowly but surely, Vignette started declining Juniper's offers to hang out or spend time together, because she logistically couldn't. She'd always been traveling, chasing the next "opportunity" and chance for "exposure." Eventually, Juniper had stopped calling. Vignette heard from Canter Zoom that she'd started interning in a studio he often used in Canterlot City. At the time, she put it out of sight and mind—good that Juniper finally found something else to take up her time, she'd remembered thinking. And that was the last either had heard from the other. Until today. Things were still silent except for the rain. Juniper hadn't replied. Of course she wouldn't. She shouldn't, Vignette thought, berating herself. This was a mistake. This was such a mistake— "Val?" a wide-eyed Juniper said, slowly. "Is... that really you?" Vignette stifled a gasp. "Yeah, it's me," she said, looking away. "Sorry I haven't... you know." She just barely heard Juniper take a step forward, then another. She chanced turning her head forward again, and saw Juniper standing under Vignette's umbrella, right in front of her, with a happy, genuine smile. The next thing she knew, Juniper's arms were around her, and she heard a shaky whisper in her ear: "I'm so happy to see you again." Vignette's mind spun. It'd been years. She'd deserted her! Juniper should be furious! Vignette surely would have been, if a client... no, if a contact... Wait, no. None of those described Juniper, did they? As she felt Juniper's warmth against her, she realized that this really did feel like home. Half of her felt even worse about leaving Juniper in the lurch. The other half, however, was simply overjoyed to be here now. "But... why?" Vignette barely managed to utter. Still smiling, Juniper replied, "Duh. 'Cause I'm more than a fan." Her grin got bigger, showing teeth. "Besides, I knew you couldn't stay away from me forever. I'm irresistible." That caught Vignette off guard. She laughed, loud and long. "Wow, I really did rub off on you, didn't I?" Juniper's voice and expression sobered. "A bit, yeah. At least I thought you did." She looked closer, studying Vignette's face. "Okay, but not gonna lie? I've... never seen you without a completely confident smile before. Kinda weirding me out. Isn't that bad for PR?" Vignette gave a small smile back. "It would be, if I cared." She hesitated, then went for it. "I know this is super #ShortNotice, but do you..." Another hesitation, another deep breath, before nodding towards her yellow sportscar. "...want to catch up?" Juniper looked lost in thought for several moments, before nodding. "Two conditions. First, let me change my blouse." "Sure. What's the other?" Vignette asked. Juniper's toothy grin was back. "Anywhere but Starcolts."
Scene 11: #ThingsChangeFor Juniper, riding shotgun in the Vignettemobile consisted of long stretches of quiet cruising, followed by the occasional sudden stop and loud rant in trendy vocabulary that would have made zero sense to anyone who didn't spend all their time online. In other words, it was instantly nostalgic. Juniper wondered how she had ever managed to live without the experience all these years. She resisted the urge to indulge her inner child by way of rolling down the window and poking her head out. Fortunately the rain helped with that; not to mention her hair becoming longer and more unwieldy as she got older. Keeping her preferred ponytails perfectly pristine was an eternity of work that the world would never understand. That said, the windows weren't helping much closed, either. The rain had worsened since they'd started their trip, and the large splattering pelts against the glass meant that she could hardly see where they were going from her side of things. The sportscar's wipers seemed to work well enough for Vignette's aggressive-defensive driving, however, and before long, Juniper noticed several bright, colorful and... familiar lights shining through the her waterlogged point of view as Vignette pulled into a parking lot. "Um, Val..." Juniper said, cracking the window slightly and verifying the sign that those lights illuminated, "what are we doing at Canterlot Mall?" She turned to Vignette with a grin. "I know movies are always behind the times, but you do know The Mall hasn't been the hip 'teen scene' hangout for, like, years, right?" She finger-quoted to get her joke across. Vignette huffed. "Ugh, yeah, it's not exactly the Houvre. But okay, you're a Canterlot native—name one higher-profile place that doesn't require us to drive an hour downtown." "Sure! Just hit up—" Juniper raised her finger, ready to fire back a response... just before realizing she had none. "Aw, crap baskets," she said, deflating. Vignette turned off the engine, laying back in her seat with a chuckling sigh. "Junie, Junie, Junie. I've said it once, and I have a feeling I'll be saying it a hundred more times: you have got to get out of suburbia. Seriously, I've let you get away with living here this long because school, but you're college material now. About ready to see the world. And there's so much more out there. I was riding down waterfalls at your age, remember?" "Okay, for starters, pick some new turns of phrases," Juniper laid back in her own seat, waving a dismissive hand. "You're not that much older than me." "That's #SweetOfYouToSay, thanks." Vignette turned the car light on, examining her nails. "And that's also what I mean. You know what happened to PostCrush when they decided to go on hiatus?" Juniper blinked. "Who?" Vignette preened, slipping her fingers through her hair. "Two-girl pop duo, really, really big. The hottest for, like, a good couple of years. I had trouble getting interviews. But then, out of the blue, they decided to just not play anymore. To not go for it anymore." "'Whoa,' on all counts. Okay," Juniper said, humoring her cousin. "What happened when they stopped?" Vignette turned to look at Juniper. "The world moved on and found someone else. Where are they now? No one knows, and no one cares except for tabloids. But they, at least, had their fifteen minutes. You, though? You have way too much trend potential for it to be wasting away here like a kale salad left out in the sun." As Juniper digested Vignette's words, memories surfaced. Memories of the mall they were about to enter, and of herself 'trending', just as Vignette had suggested—except for all the wrong reasons. She crossed her arms. "I... I like it here," she said, softly and pouting. "Just me and my friends. I don't want anything else." "Oooh, it's nice to hear the 'f' word," Vignette said. "You'll have to tell me more inside. And your movie ambitions? Next you'll be telling me you live on a studio lot after all." Vignette chuckled. Juniper fell silent. Vignette raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Things have changed."
