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kaijurakunsobs · 4 years ago

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You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #x reader #the duke

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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

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The Run In

Word Count: 4692

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Characters: Reader, Misha, Diego (OG Character), Xander (OG Character), Divorce Lawyer, Police Receptionist, George (OG Character), Female Officer, and Male Officer

Summary: The Reader gets away from her abusive husband. After bumping into a stranger, the Reader forms a friendship with him which the Readers soon-to-be ex-Husband finds out about.

Disclaimer: Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Domestic Violence, Mentions of degradation, Blood, Implied Smut

Disclaimer 2: This work of fiction contains Domestic Violence. If you have been a victim of DV please read at your own discretion. If you are in a DV situation please call 1-800-799-7233, of you’re unable to speak safely, you can log onto thehotline.org or text LOVEIS to 22522. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. If you are in an emergency, call 911. There are also DV/IPV programs and shelters in your area who can help you.

Disclaimer 3: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Vicki at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Misha. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: Sorry this is late. I have been hitting some sort of writing block. I have the words in my head but for some reason I can’t get them out.

A/N 2: Tag your anyone who loves Misha!

*18+ Content. Anyone younger than 18 will need to move along. I do not want to risk my account being deleted.

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me the proper credit. I work way too hard on my work and don’t want it to get stolen.

***This work is also posted on Instagram, Wattpad, and AO3. Go show it some love over there.

****Please follow me on my other accounts Instagram, Wattpad, Twitter, and AO3

*****DMs are CLOSED for REQUESTS. I gotta finish up my other two projects.

Forever Tags: @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @magssteenkamp @elansaidaris @hobby27 @440mxs-wife

I sit alone in the apartment, huddled on the couch. The fight had been bad this time. I mean, all fights with Diego were bad but, this one in particular had been pretty bad. I look around the trashed apartment and try not to replay the events that took place almost an hour before. The television was busted, a couple chairs had been thrown over, the mirror my mother had salvaged and repurposed for me was destroyed, glass was everywhere, and my grandmothers clock she passed down to me was busted up.

I don't know how I got here.

I don't know how I let it get so bad.

I slowly get up off the couch and watch my step all the way to the bathroom. I flip the light on and there, glowing bright red, on my face is the handprint of my husband. The throwing of things has been going on for a couple years. Hitting is new and Diego never hit me until recently. I should have left him months ago. Maybe even years ago.

After that first hit.

It was after a Christmas party at his office. We got into a fight about me talking to his co workers and about the dress I wore. He said he had been embarrassed by it all. I'm the stand you ground type of woman who snaps back. The moment I had snapped back, was the moment Diego hit me. Diego has been surprised so he left for the evening. I should have just packed and left. I didn't, I waited an apology that never really came and when it did, I knew he didn't mean it.

Tonight, it was about the fact I went out with a few friends and forgot about dinner for Diego. When I came home with take out, he lost it. Called me every name in the book. Threw things and hit me and left.

I slowly touch the already welting mark. I suck in a sharp breath when my cool hand touches the raw skin. It stings so bad that even my tears make it sting. I look at myself again in the mirror. "How pathetic," I whisper to myself. "How pathetic of you to have stayed this long over a boy that can't handle his anger. That's going to change."

I walk out of the bathroom to the room Diego and I share together. I head straight towards the closet and pull out a duffle back and begin to fill with the important things. Clothes. Some shoes. Bathroom and shower necessities. I swap out purses, leaving both my car keys and phone in my old one. I can't risk having Diego try looking for me. I log into my bank account and change every security question and answer. I close my eyes. I never thought I would need to do this yet here I am.

I look around the apartment one last time. My eyes land on the photo from our wedding day. I grab it and rip the picture from the frame. I take a lighter and set it ablaze in the kitchen sink with a few other photos. Taking a deep breath, I finally make my exist from the apartment.

I walk to the nearest bus stop and wait for the bus to show up. Even in the dark it's difficult to hide my swollen face from the world. So I keep it down and tucked behind the collar of my coat. When the bus finally shows up, I get on it and pay my fair. I go sit in the back and ride it all the way to where I need to get off. The ride is quiet. A few people stare at me when they catch sight of my face. I turn away from them and keep my face hidden away. I stare at my bags and think, this is all I have now. A few clothes, money, these bags, a few personal items, etc.

The bus stops and I quickly grab my bags and get off. I turn this way and that looking for the building I need to go into. I spot it, It's hidden behind some trees and another bus stop across the street. I make my way across the street and into the police station.

There is a lady sitting at the front desk. It looks like she's packing up to go home. She gives me a friendly smile and sets her bag aside.

"What can I do for you?" She asks. I see her zero in on the mark on my face and the look in her eyes looks like she's about to cry. "I think I know what papers you need." She turns and leaves the area and returns with a few papers in her hands. She slowly hands me the papers and a pen. "Do you need a safe place to fill these out? Theres a room I can take you to."

I nod, I want to cover as much of my trail and steps as I can. Diego is a smart man. He will soon learn I left him and will soon come looking for me. The lady walks me to a room with a table. She tells me that she won't close the door because some people in my situation get triggered. She walks to the officer that is sitting at a desk across the way and tells him something while pointing to me. The officer looks at me and then nods to the woman.

I look down at the Order of Protection and Restraining Order papers and take a deep breath. When I start to fill the paper out, I notice that I am still wearing my wedding ring and band. I take them off and set them in my bag. As I finish my paper work, I slowly get up and walk out of the room. The officer sees me and slowly approaches me.

"I can take care of this for you," He says reaching for the paper. "Now how about we get some ice for that mark and have a look to make sure it isn't more than raw skin." The officer sits me down and leaves. When he comes back he has a small ice pack and places it on my face. The cool pack feels so nice.

"I have a question," I say as the officer pulls out a first aid box and starts to look at my face.

"Yeah?" he responds.

"Is there a way to put in your system that I am not a missing person but on the run from my husband?" I flinch when the officer wipes my face with the alcohol wipe.

"Sorry," He starts to apply an antibiotic to my face. "If or when your husband comes to us looking for you, our system will actually show that these orders are on him. What will happen is that they will take your information and tell him he has two days until you are declared missing. In that time frame he would have been served with the restraining order." The officer puts a large band aid over my face.

"Good," I say.

"How long?" the officer asks.

"Long enough to finally say fuck it and leave his ass."

***

A few days pass. I'm staying at a hotel and paying by the day. I purchased a brand new phone and got a new number. I called my parents and told them what was going on. They were mad and sadden by the situation but are happy that I got out when could. I got word from my officer friend that the restraining order was delivered but he said that Diego didn't look happy.

A week passes and I am still staying at the hotel. Not many apartments won't rent to me until I'm legally separated from Diego. I meet with a lawyer to have divorce papers drawn up and served to him but according to her, once the papers were signed, it would take a few months for them to be filed.

"Now all we need to do is get you two in here to sing these?" the lady says.

"About that," I fold my hands. "I have a protection order and restraining order on him."

The lawyer nodded her head. "I see. Well, I will have someone deliver to him and see if he will sign them. Just be prepared," She reaches for my hand and takes it in hers. "Some men like him, they will stall this as much as they can to get you to meet in person."

I nod. "I understand, in that case, if I have to meet him, I will have someone I trust with me."

As predicted, a week later, the lawyer calls me ups and tells me that Diego refuses to sign. Says I'm having a mental breakdown and needs to just come home so we can work it out. The lawyer also mentions that Diego had said that I'm lying about him throwing things that it's all me and that he only hit me in self defense because according to him, I slapped him before he slapped me.

I sit back in my hotel room in hot anger. I can feel the steam of my anger coming off my skin. I'm angry he won't sign the papers. I'm angry he started to make up shit about me. But jokes on him, I kept a private album on my iCloud of all the times he hit me. It my friends idea, she encouraged me to document it all somewhere where he doesn't know the password to. She passed away about a year ago from getting hit by a drunk driver.

"I'm going to need a printer," I say looking at the countless pictures of abuse.

***

The next day I go out and purchase a decently priced printer. And a decent laptop since everything was on my phone. As i'm walking down the street back to my hotel, with my things, I find myself falling onto hands and knees. The printer box rolled a few feet from me. I hope it isn't damaged, I think slowly sitting back on my knees and just staring at it.

"Oh my goodness," a voice says. "I am so sorry."

I look up to see a man with a ragged hair, black sunglasses, a black t-shirt with a jean jacket over it, and dark skinny jeans reaching down to help me up to my feet. I take his hand and slowly get to my feet. I notice the scruff framing the rest of his face. The sun shines perfectly behind him and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

"I should have watched where I was going and make sure there wasn't a beautiful woman carrying a large object," the man says turning to pick up my printer. "Doesn't look damaged from the outside."

I smile and feel my face burning. I'm sure it's bright red. "It's okay, I should have called an Uber instead of walking three blocks. I'm sorry about your coffee." I gesture to the fallen cup and spilled contents on the sidewalk. "Let me buy a new one."

The man laughs and waves a free hand. "No need to waste your money on my accident."

"What can I do?" I ask after I made sure my laptop box was fine.

"How about you let me help you with this so another person doesn't run into you?"

Taking a deep breath, I accept the strangers offer. We walk the last block talking about the city. When we get to the hotel, this man offers to carry the printer all the way up to the room. Didn't even question if I was living there.

"Thank you for doing this," I tell him as he sets the box on the small table.

"Anything," he smiles. "And when you are ready to search for apartments I know of a few good ones."

I give a small smile. I guess it's obvious that I was living in the hotel. "Thanks," I watch as he walks himself to the door. "I did never get your name." I call after him.

"Misha," he smiles. "Collins."

***

A month goes by and I am no longer looking like a crazy person after submitting all my pictures to my lawyer. Still Diego refuses to sign the papers unless he can meet with me alone. Of course I say "fuck no."

"If you want to be rid of him forever, then you have to compromise," my lawyer tells me.So I makes plans for the inevitable. But I have my officer buddy tagging along with me to the meeting.

I stare at the divorce papers and I am praying Diego will sign them at our meeting. But I doubt it. Ever since I left him, I started to see the red flags. Even friends that I still have and that haven't been manipulated by Diego, have told me they saw the way he treated me and spoke to me.

I need fresh air.

I get out of the hotel and walk to the the nearest park. It has a lake right in the middle of it. I rest my arms on the railing and then drop my head on my arms. This is more stressful than when I planned a wedding with Diego. I'm closing a door on almost seven years of marriage.

Diego was never like this. Even when we dated for five years. He was always so sweet, so kind, understanding, etc. He would buy me flowers for no reason. My apartment would be covered in them and I would tell him that I would donate some to nursing homes just to make room. I don't know what snapped in Diego to make him the way he was now.

Sighing I look up and stare at the lake. There is a small flock of ducks swimming passed me. Their color feathers shine in the afternoon. It puts a smile on my face. Something that is hard for me to do lately with everything going on.

"I was wondering when that smile would come," a familiar voice makes me turn to my left. There, a few feet away from me, Misha stands. I haven't seen or spoken to him since he left my hotel after giving me his number.

A number I never called or texted.

I had too google him to see if I could find anything on him. Well, I found a crap ton on him. An actor who did a crap ton of good. He is loved by millions.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask. Another smile creeping onto my face.

"Not long," he says walking closer to me. "Just long enough to see that frown turn upside down." He gives a small smile. "Are you still at that hotel?"

I chuckle. "I am, I haven't had the time to look at apartments. I've been preoccupied trying to get my soon to be ex-husband to sign divorce papers."

Misha leans up on the railing along side me and looks at the ducks. "Maybe he's holding out to want to try and work things out with you?"

I laugh. "No, he's abusive and isn't having it with me being in control of myself now. The night I left him, it was really bad. It took a while for the mark he left on me to go away. Then he tried to convince my lawyer that I was having a mental breakdown."

"I'm sorry," Misha pulls back from the railing and pulls out his wallet and shows me a penny. "Here's to him signing the papers so you can officially be free of him." He tosses the penny into the water. "Are you doing anything, tomorrow?" He asks.

"Besides meeting Diego to get him to sign papers? No." I answer twiddling my thumbs.

"How about after you meet with him, I take you to look at apartments?" He leans towards me with a smile. "I can get you a really good deal. I'll even drive, so we don't have to walk."

"Sure."

***

"He's late," Xander says stirring his now cold coffee. Xander is the officer that helped me the night after I left Diego. Xander was also the one who helped set me up at the hotel I'm staying at. Xander's wife, was a domestic violence victim and he was the officer that pulled his ex husband off her. They didn't get hook up until a year later when they ran into each other. They have been married for almost ten years with two kids.

"Just give it a few minutes," I say contemplating buying another coffee eying the divorce papers on the table.

Five minutes later, Diego waltz into the Starbucks and spots us. A smile spreads across his face when he sees me. Then it instantly fades when he sees Xander. He crosses the little shop in a few short strides. His black shoes squeaking from the rain outside.

"So," he sits down and crosses his arms. "Is this who you left me for? Some wanna a be body builder."

Xander smirks. "No, I'm actually a police officer. Since YN here has a few orders drawn up on you it's best that she have the right protection. Even in a public place." I notice that as Xander leans over he has his badge in his hands.

Diego looks over to me. "Can' you stop being so dramatic about this? So that we can just do this alone"

"Not ever going to happen," I say firmly. "And I'm not dramatic. Not about you hitting me."

The look in Diego's eye's grows dark but he puts on a fake smile. "I would never hurt you," He looks around as a few people over heard what I said. "I can't believe you're still on that."

"Look," Xander leans back and pushes the papers towards Diego. "All YN needs you to do is sign these. This game you're trying to play, just keeps hurting her."

Diego stares at Xander. "I don't think I will." He pushes the papers back and starts to get up. "Until next time."

"You're just going string this along aren't you?" I stood up so fast that Xander's coffee spilled. "I don't want to be married to you anymore. I stopped wanting that when you threw the first book and kicked a hole in the wall. I stopped when you hit me. I just let it go on for so long that I forgot how to not walk on eggshells. You don't own me. I don't love you. So sign the fucking papers."

Diego stares at me. I hadn't realized, but I pretty much yelled. I gather my bag and make my way out. Xander follows me.

"Hey," He hands me the papers. "Do you need me tot drive you back?"

"No, a friend is picking me up," I pull my phone out and text Misha. "He should be meeting me in a few minutes. He's taking me to look at apartments."

***

Another month goes by and I'm moved into my new apartment. All thanks to Misha and his ways of persuasion. I got the first six months half off. It was a nice little one bedroom apartment with a little den. Misha even convinced me to let him buy the furniture sets I had my eye one in a catalog.

"I'm just use to working hard for stuff like this," I say when the last of the movers move the stuff in. "I literally don't know how to thank you. Even just saying 'thank you' doesn't seem to be enough."

Misha laughs. The laugh takes up his entire body. "Just a simple thank you would be enough. Unless you want me to come up with a way to convince you to let me take you out to dinner. As friends of course."

I feel my cheeks start to burn. This dude is smooth. "Okay, dinner, as friends, it is."

Misha smiles big. "Awesome, now lets get this place looking as good as you."

For the next two days, Misha is over helping me settle down in my apartment. Whenever he leaves for food or whatnot, he always comes back with something to add to the place. I didn't even argue once.

The time I spent with Misha, he always hyped me up for stuff, he said things how it was and never ever sugar coated things, he held doors open, and gave me words of encouragement whenever I told him that Diego, again, refused to sign papers over.

Diego not signing papers was frustrating. The more time I spent with or talking to Misha, the more my feelings for him grew. But I was still tied to the asshole of a man who knew what he was doing. He knew of my interactions with Misha, he always brought it up but I would shut it down.

"He's just using you for public gain," Diego would tell me. But I knew Misha pretty well at this point. Things I've read on Twitter about him, Misha would never use someone like that.

Each meeting I had with Diego, I started to see him for who he really was. I don't even know how I fell in love with him. He's even gotten his parents convinced that I'm a lunatic. His mom would text me calling me all sorts of names and telling me that I should be the one paying for Diegos therapy sessions. She would also tell me that she knew I was trouble when he brought me home to meet them. His father wanted me to pay back every dime he had spent on mine and Diegos wedding or he would get a lawyer involved. He would even send disturbing texts saying that he's got people watching me and that I should be be careful.

I won't lie, that scared the shit out of me.

That last one pissed Misha off. I have never seen him go off about someone before. After that text, I went out and put restraining orders on Diegos parents and Misha convinced me to have someone look after me while he was gone for his show. I agreed and my new 'bodyguard' went with me everywhere and made sure I got home safe. Misha even hired a security company to set up an alarm system at my apartment.

If I didn't know better, Misha was or has developed some kind of feelings for me.

***

A year after I made my escape from Diego, I finally have my own car. Paid for all on my own. So no more walking. I park my car in my apartment parking spot and pull out my phone. I see the text from Misha, it's from an hour ago. His flight is delayed and that he would see me at some point tomorrow.

"Bummer," I lay back and watch as George, the bodyguard, pull his car into the parking spot behind me. I unbuckle and get out and watch as George do the same. Before I could get a word out, I see two police cars come up and two officers run passed me.

I slowly turn around and watch them run up to my level. My heart beats fast and I follow them. George, of course follows as well. I skip the steps two at a time and watch as one officer kicks my down. I hear yelling and banging around. Suddenly, George has both his hand on my shoulder and pulling me back as an officer finally come out.

With Diego in handcuffs. His nose is bleeding and a bruise is already forming on his face.

I pull away from George and run into my apartment. There standing in the middle of the room was the other officer talking to Misha. Misha has a busted lip and small gash on the side of his head. I notice that the glass bowl that Misha got me was in pieces and the coffee table was destroyed.

Misha sees me and I rush over to him. "Oh my gosh," I take hold of his face. "Are you okay?"

"Are you the lady who lives here?" the officer asks.

"Yes, and this is my friend," I don't my eyes off Misha.

"And the gentleman we arrested?"

"That's no gentleman," my voice is hard. "That is my abusive soon-to-be ex-husband. He has a restraining order on him."

The officer puts her note pad away. "That will explain a lot. We will contact you if we need anything else." With that, the officer left.

"Everything is all good?" Georges voice makes me turn around.

"Everything is good, George," Misha says. "You can go."

After George leaves I turn back to Misha. "You said you're flight had been delayed. What happened?"

Misha leads us to the couch and we sit down. "I only said that so I can surprise you. I hadn't been here for even an hour before he broke in. He wanted to know where you were and I wouldn't tell him. I guess a neighbor called 911 due to the yelling and stuff. Officer saw my stuff and I said my friend lives here and is letting me stay with her."

I nod my head. "I'm just happy you're okay. I don't know how Diego found me."

"It doesn't matter," Misha takes my hand. "He will answer for it in court.

And Misha was right. A week after everything went down, Diego was charged with breaking and entering, assault, and basically breaking the restraining order by stalking. I sat in during the hearing with Misha. Diego's parents tried to fight the five year sentence but the Judge said that if they said anything else before court ended he would double it without parole.

A few weeks after that, I am getting dinner ready when Misha shows up. He had been showing up a lot lately. I don't mind it at all, Misha makes me feel sane and safe.

"Hey," Misha says setting his coat on the couch. "I see that new coffee table came."

"It did, thanks to you," I say pulling a second plate down. I've learned to make a bit extra whenever Misha came over. "Also, I have some good news." I point to the orange envelope on the table. Misha looks at it and then back at me.

"Did," he starts to say.

"He sign it?" I finish his question. "Yeah, he called saying he will sign it. So I dropped by and had them take the paper to him to sign. I wasn't going to see him. They brought it back all signed. I am mailing in the morning."

"That's amazing, YN," Misha comes up to me and hugs me.

"Well, let's celebrate with dinner."

After dinner, after we clean up, we are sitting on the couch. Talking about whatever came to mind. We are talking about things we are still embarrassed by when Misha takes my hand.

"YN," He says softly. "I want to tell you something."

"Sure," I put my free hand on over his.

"I...I really care about you and I am glad that it was me here and not you when Diego broke in," Mishas voice is soft still. "I honestly don't know what I would do if you were here and he hurt you. All I ever wanted was for you to be safe."

"And I am," I slowly rub his hand with my thumb.

We stare at each other for what feels like forever when Misha pulls his hands from mine and put them on my face. His eyes look search mine for permission but I lean closer to him and brush my lips over his. He closes his eyes and I feel the shiver run through his body.

His gentle grip on my face forces my face back to his where his lips wait. They're smooth and there's a lot of passion behind his kiss. My hands run up to his collar as I move closer to him. The kiss deeps and Mishas hands trail down my sides to my hips where he pulls me onto his lap. It makes it easier for my tongue to push pass his lips and into his mouth.

Without breaking the kiss and with a low growl, Misha stands up, both arms supporting me as he walks us to the bedroom. Kicking the door shut.

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shitihaveheardatwork · 4 years ago

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See You In Hell, Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz!

Contrary to the opinions of many of my peers, I think weeding is awesome and I love it. There’s little I find more satisfying than an item of obviously low quality with no demand whatsoever coming into my attention and having the privilege of removing it from circulation.

Just to be entirely clear, we’re not talking about “extreme” or “controversial” content. I’ve had that conversation done to death a thousand classroom-polarizing times before. We’re talking about cheap. We’re talking about cash-grab. We’re talking about no artistic, cultural, spiritual, or even material value.

We’re talking about Bratz Passion 4 Fashion; Diamondz.

Some personal history first: I’m old enough that my last big toy phase before I reached the special level of adolescence where you have to openly condemn everything you once held dear as a child was Bionicles. I had the black bionicle from every generation up until that point, as well as a complete set of those little rolly-polly guys with the stretchy necks. I don’t know what they were called and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up for this lil micro-essay here.

What’s important is that they were cool. They did action-y stuff, I felt smart putting them together.

Waaaay Cooler, Smarter, Action-y, and REAL than my sister’s interests! Polly Pocket? Dumb! Pre-bronification MLP? Barf! Bratz? How fake can you get? Those were just shallow pieces of plastic made by toy companies. Not like my precious bionicles. So cool. So adult. So smart.

Then I watched the first Bionicle movie when it was on TV and realized I too was a cog in an elaborate toy commercial scheme. Something clicked in my horny mushy pre-teen brain, and I put away all my old favorite toys forever. It was now time to be shitty and elitist about intangible concepts instead, a hobby I’d keep until my early 20′s. But in addition to a change in hobbies, I also started to be a little bit less shit to my sister about her toys.

This confession out of the way, I don’t think my sister would have stopped me from throwing this DVD directly into the trash. My sister didn’t become a high-fallutin’ working-class intelligentsia asshole like her big brother, and we have nothing comparable in terms of media taste, but I think she would support me 100% if I told her I sent this DVD straight to hell. In fact I might call her later just to confirm. This disk was bad, is the moral of my story.

It took six paragraphs, but let’s talk about Day 3 on the job!

It was just me and Lisa today. I’ve upgraded from liking Lisa to absolutely loving working with Lisa. We talked everything from how her kids are doing to politics (she brought up Tr#mps latest satire-destroying phone call) to video-gaming to the history of animation. I genuinely like talking to her and it’s a shame she’s just filling in. If a job opens up at her branch, I’d apply for it, no question.

My boss Wallace, “Yer dad”-level queerphobe and Ron Swanson-esque libertarian, was putting out a metaphorical fire at another branch and I didn’t have to deal with him at all.

I did my opening routine. Checking the drop box, collecting the pull list, putting together holds, refiling returned materials, preparing ILL material, checking my work email, and the like. I was done with it all in about 90 minutes, with 4 hours left to go on my shift.

Wallace had told me to fill the time with anything I can qualify as “professional development” the week before, so I spent some time reading articles on the ALA website and googling “anarcho-librarianism” just to see what would happen. I found an abandoned blog and a twitter.

Then I remembered oh shit. I have to make a twitter don’t I

I don’t like twitter. I’ve tried to use it. I don’t get it. I’m too old to learn a new app. It’s impossible.

And yet I must. That’s where The Discourse is happening. That’s where the minds in my field are saying things. If I’m taking my career seriously, if I want to get a grip on the currents in my profession, I have to bite that checkmarked bullet. Stand by for updates on my professional twitter.

I got bored of being on the ALA site and ran out of productive things to google, and decided to look around the building for abandoned projects and mysteries to solve. It didn’t take long to find one, when I found a cart in the work room with a pile of DVDs in paper sleeves.

“Scratched” a post-it note on top said.

I asked Lisa if she knew how long these had been here, and she confirmed that they were in fact a hold-over from the previous staff that had left in a mass exodus some months before.

Well cool, I thought. I’ll see if these are too fucked up to play.

Commence with an hour of consuming children’s media, a few seconds of a minute at a time. I was fortunate that the work computers both had CD drives AND VLC media player! Thank you, past cool supervisor who put VLC on the work machines! Good call!

So I “watched” a few Dora The Explorers, a Care Bears film, that Trolls movie, Hotel Transylvania, and a Barbie horse adventure film, watching a few seconds before skipping a minute ahead to see if it would choke and skip.

See here’s the thing about scratched CDs. They’re weird. You can have a CD that’s fucked up completely (looking at you, my copy of Rollercoaster Tycoon 1) that still somehow plays fine like it just came out of the box. Sometimes scratches will seem totally superficial but goof up just enough microscopic binary that no machine will touch it. All these DVDs were ugly as sin, but that didn’t mean they were broken did it?

And it turns out a lot of them worked fine. That’s how I ended up watching Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz which, unfortunately, played fine.

As I put the disk into the drive I remembered my sister’s participation in the Bratz toy craze. As an adult, a real one not the one I told myself I was at 13, I told myself that I might have a bias against this content, to just check the disk and not get judgy about what might be a kids favorite movie.

I uh... I failed to do that. BUT IT’S OK BECAUSE MY BIAS IS TOTALLY JUSTIFIED AND MY JUSTIFICATION IS RIGHT HERE

If you didn’t or don’t want to click the link, it’s a scene where the Bratz Diamonds are about to head out on some sort of fashion trucking marathon/race. Like any proper racer, the blonde at the wheel has a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, has just put their rig in gear, and in proper high-octane fashion, puts on a knowing smirk.

Except the smirk is, well... the animators just stretched the lips across the face further. I can’t do it justice, you just have to watch it, but I’ve done better animating just by pan-and-scanning around Windows Movie Maker.

This... isn’t content anybody needs. But I’m a librarian. I’m sworn to access. So the question becomes, does anyone want it?

I had to know, I had to know, how much circulation has this gotten? When was the last time this disk was in the hands of anybody at all besides me?

I popped it into Evergreen and behold: 15 check-outs since 2006 when it was released. No checkouts in the last 2 years.

I asked Lisa the proper procedure for removing something from the catalog, and in only a moment the deed was done. The case was repurposed, the disk trashed, the DVD cover recycled. It was time to go. I’d spent my remaining hours quasi-consuming children’s media.

I placed most of what I’d watched in a new pile, which I labeled “SCRATCHED BUT WORK FINE.” I placed one lone Barbie horse movie in a different pile labeled “SCRATCHED AND DOES NOT WORK.”

I felt like I’d accomplished something. I turned off the lights and I went home.

#adventures in librarianship #thisisme #work journal

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titoslondon-blog · 7 years ago

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New Post has been published on Titos London

#Blog New Post has been published on http://www.titoslondon.co.uk/meet-12-expat-fashion-designers-who-have-made-india-their-home/

Meet 12 expat fashion designers who have made India their home

“The India I love does not make the headlines, but I find it wherever I go—in fields or forests, towns or villages, mountains or deserts—and in the hearts and minds of people who have given me love and affection for the better part of my lifetime.” British-born author Ruskin Bond’s sentiment is one that many, who have made India their home, can echo. What unites this set is a new take on craft and tradition. Vogue chronicles 12 designers who are blending fashion and borders.

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Peter and Cecile D’Ascoli

Label: D’Ascoli

Home: Delhi

Peter’s maximalist prints and Cecile’s at-ease silhouettes find common ground at their new-found atelier. Vogue goes behind the tectonic changes in their design gamut. A peek into Peter D’Ascoli’s brainchild, Talianna Studio, reveals a world of heady prints inspired by royal scenarios, while partner and co-creative Cecile’s free-flowing, creature-of comfort clothing under her namesake label speak volumes for the current cultural climate. “There is a change in the zeitgeist—people don’t want faceless, nameless fast fashion anymore,” says Peter, painting a backdrop for their decision to acclimatise to a slower pace of fashion. “But, at the same time, there is a desire for excess. Minimal weaves and solid colours have made way for a line where the decadence of Rajput palaces meets the simplicity of Bordeaux farmhouses,” Cecile weighs in on the sartorial paradoxes within the new D’Ascoli collection.

Peter and Cecile D’Ascoli

Peter, previously a die-hard New Yorker (he lived in Manhattan for 20 years, working with Diane von Furstenberg) with a penchant for the decorative arts, and Cecile, a French creative with an eye for casual elegance, may seem poles apart on paper, but together they are a creative confluence of an up-to-date global aesthetic, born out of India. “We are global citizens and world travellers, and this comes through in the way we create,” explains Cecile. For the duo, scaling their label to pave an international path is, veritably, the natural thing to do. “Our clothing is now on Matchesfashion.com and home decor at Modaoperandi.com and we’re available in Paris and America. There’s no time like right now to become a homegrown vertical label,” says Peter.

Dascoliandcompany.com

Caroline Weller

Label: Banjanan Home: Jaipur

You left New York City to move to India. Can you tell us more about this continental shift? I was born in the UK and moved to New York, where I worked at Calvin Klein and Armani. I got a call for a job in India, so we moved to Bengaluru, but funding for the project dried up overnight. I was drawn to the creativity and craft in Jaipur and it has now been nine years living here.

Caroline Weller

What made you start Banjanan? My New York wardrobe didn’t work here. So, I set out to create clothes that could be worn in different countries and climates. To support the local industry, 90 per cent of the printing and embroidery is done within a 5-mile radius of my home. We launched in 2013 and today stock at Modaoperandi. com and Shopbop.com. The name comes from ‘banjaran’, meaning nomad. I loved the idea that much like the Banjara tribe, my label started in Rajasthan and has migrated around the world.

What do you love about life here? You never know what’s going to happen. Things can get frustrating but I believe there’s a magic in that. You just have to find your rhythm. Banjanan.com

Katherine Neumann

Label: House Of Wandering Silk Home: Delhi Fresh start: “I moved to India in 2010 to combine  a sustainable  approach to poverty  alleviation and my love for fair-trade  textiles. The thought  of starting my own  label with a greater-good  philosophy came while journeying solo through the ancient Silk Route. With this, House of Wandering Silk started in 2011.”

Design directory: “We co-create textiles with artisans, young designers and NGOs. From upcycled saris to khadi and local  embroideries, India is in every thread of every product we make.”

Defining India: “Delhi can feel like several different eras all at the same time.” Wanderingsilk.org

Virginia Borrero De Castro

Label: De Castro Home: Jaipur “I know I’m an expat here, but sometimes I feel  like one in Colombia, too. But I love that I can  call both places home,” says the designer who coexists between the  two hemispheres. The undercurrent of living in two separate worlds is made whole in her design studio, which curates the best of both in India’s Pink City. The suffix of her artist mother’s name (a recurrent inspiration in her collections) is also the title of her India- born label, De Castro. The sophisticated silhouettes are pretty, yes—but with  a keen return to craft. Feeding her vision from everything around her, the Jaipur filigree architecture translates into intricate embroidered borders on khadi trousers and kaftans. “For me, India is a gold mine that doesn’t open up for everyone. You need to be patient and research, and only then will the secrets be revealed to you.” So, how does a 25-year- old Colombian in India find herself drawn to the handmade? “Although India is famous for the best cottons and linens, it’s sad to see a lot of synthetic materials imported here from China.” In her pursuit for the pure, she set out to rediscover the double ikat weave by joining hands with weaver families and launching her own store in association with Gem Palace. Instagram.com/decastro.moda

Molly  Russell

Label: Pink  City Prints Home: Jaipur “I arrived in India in 2015 for a six-month backpacking trip. In Jaipur, I discovered and fell in love with block-printed fabrics. Within a week I had a company name and a logo. I put together my first collection  in a friend’s cosy workshop on a farm just outside the city. Shortly after, a shop in London called Press saw our work on social media and requested an order—everything was sold out at their shop in a week! As a trained artist, I like to work with themes. The Riviera collection was based on my childhood spent in the South of France where I also spotted Brigitte Bardot in her gingham finery at St. Tropez market. The latest line, Spring on the Med, is inspired by holidays in Greece—the sweet perfume of oranges and lemon trees, striped sun loungers and lazing in the sand, watching the sky for hours. I believe clothes should be illustrative and playful. We celebrate inconsistencies, as no two prints, weaves or embroideries are ever the same. The attitude in India allows a certain freedom and it’s thrilling to hear the karigars say, ‘Everything is possible, madam.’ In all the chaos, I find myself thinking so clearly!” Pinkcityprints.com

Enda Noone

Label: Ikka Dukka Home: Delhi I moved to India four years ago from London to start Ikka Dukka with my dear friend and business partner, Nilisha Kohli. The label is inspired by vintage finds. We like products that have a heart and a story. This combination makes for keepsakes, worth cherishing for life. In Hindi, ikka dukka means something rare, unique and one-off. That’s exactly what we create. The way we work is constantly changing. Sometimes we come up with a concept and find artisans to develop it or we come across talented craftsmen and see how we can adapt our designs to them. India is a creative playground for the mind. It is a lot like my home country, Ireland— the essence and nature of the people is exactly the same. Ikkadukka.com

Chantal Blommerde

Label: Chandamama Kids Home: Delhi “My love for design traces back to watching my mother sew her own clothes while growing up in a small Dutch town. I was in New York when I met my husband and moved around Asia to be with him. There was a point when I was living in Singapore without a job and about to become a new mother. It was an overwhelming time. In 2011, when our baby was two months old, we moved to India, and setting up a kids’ clothing label seemed like the perfect thing to do. India is an experience of the senses—I love the everyday sights, sounds, smells and people. I have lived in many places and what I know for sure is, we all have the same problems, the same questions and the same joys in life. The country may seem chaotic at first, but there is a method to its madness.” Chandamamakids.com

Liane De Selyss

Label: Joli India Home: Delhi For Liane, or Lili (her Indian moniker), a three-month trip to India turned into a 12-year journey. “I came to India for an internship, but it wasn’t enough time—I had to come back. Six months later, I came back with a job in an export house,” she explains. The designer’s label pieces together India’s everyday eccentric things. “Recycling  and repurposing  are a mainstay  at Joli – Proudly  Made in India. The country’s popular  culture is central to  our collections. For example, our line of choti bags, dari-weave clutches, and lungi bazaar bags.” Shopjoliindia.com

Olivia Dar

Label: Olivia Dar Home: Delhi

When did you move to India? I was raised in Rome, London and  Paris, and India has now been home  for 17 years. I made a backpacking trip  to the subcontinent, where I lived in Dharamshala to study Tibetan culture and then moved to Jaipur to pursue gemology. I settled in the capital around 10 years ago and started my label in 2011. Before India, I worked on embroidery and accessories for French couture houses Christian Lacroix and Yves Saint Laurent.

What’s the story behind your namesake label? I wanted to start a line of contemporary accessories, embroidered by hand for women who love to travel. I started with a small budget and a single embroiderer and now we are a team of 35, stocked across six continents. As a made-in- India label, everything is developed and produced in our studio in Shahpur Jat.

How does your French heritage mix with an Indian aesthetic?  I love to collect vintage textiles. I have a bank of French fabrics, lace and embroideries inherited from my family archive. I also love Indian market jewellery. For our spring/summer 2018 collection, we looked to the  flora and fauna  of the Caribbean Islands where I spent a lot of my time among palm trees, pink flamingos and exotic birds. Oliviadar.com

Maurits Favier

Label: Raff Home: Puducherry Maurits Favier started Raff with his wife Rashi Agarwal Favier in 2016 out of their hometown, Puducherry. The hand-sewn, zero-waste, ethical and sustainable leather handbags are made in Auroville by a cluster of skilled women. “Each Raff bag is individually handmade on vegetable tanned buff leather, sourced locally and made without chemicals,” he explains. When Favier’s international consulting career stationed him in India in 2012, “something clicked immediately and felt right here.” Although being able to ride his bicycle around Puducherry (much like in his home city, Amsterdam) could be one of the plaintive reasons, he also cites the diverse mix of creatives in the cosmopolitan yet easy-going city as another similarity. Shopraff.com

Martino Caramia

Label: Flame Home: Goa Coming to India: “From running a restaurant in Germany to fashion stores in Spain, life had wound itself in a ruinous consumer-driven cycle. Goa was a thriving abode for a creative community and it’s where I landed 10 years ago and now call home.”

On Flame: “I ended up with a truckload of textiles from my travels around India. When a space for a small boutique opened up, I started designing clothes with these textiles.” The store: “Fashion goes beyond the realm of racks. Our 300-year-old villa-cum-store is a testament to that.” Facebook.com/flamebymartinocaramia

Patrick Hayes and Samantha Delgos

Label: Aiyope Home: Delhi The Australian duo started concept store Aiyope in the capital. The Indophiles find inspiration in the architecture and customs of communities. “For us, it’s not about whether there’s an Indian influence in our collections, but rather which Indian influence underlies our work.” says Patrick. “The unofficial role of an expat is to be an open line of communication between the places we live in,’’ explains Samantha. Aiyope.com

The post Meet 12 expat fashion designers who have made India their home appeared first on VOGUE India.

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mahtewtwook86 · 8 years ago

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Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty

Remember taking exams in high school or college? Getting out your scanner cards, filling in the little boxes (number two pencils only!) and piling them all neatly in a box so you can get your marks a week later? Not the most fun process, was it?

Well the kids of today don’t have to go through that rigamarole, thanks to companies like ExamSoft. And Stephanie Totty is in charge of making sure as many students have that privilege as possible.

As the Senior Content Strategy Manager at ExamSoft Worldwide, Totty works tirelessly to generate interest for ExamSoft across their blog, social channels, webinars, and a host of other platforms. “I started mostly as a copywriter and social media person, and just grew from there.” Totty told me in interview, “The focus of my role has morphed into content strategy and creation. Which is great, because I find that a lot more interesting than just creating social posts — this way I get to be hands-on in the process.”

To find out all the marketing secrets Totty has learned in her four years at ExamSoft, we chatted with her over Google Hangout. Here’s what she had to say:

How has content marketing evolved since you started?

I think there’s just a lot more emphasis put on content marketing now. I don’t really feel like a few years ago content marketing was really much of a thing, and now it’s almost a buzzword. Content creation was important, and it was there, but the major focus was elsewhere. Now everyone is starting to take the content creation and strategy process more seriously, and I feel like we’re all in the phase where we’re just churning out content. Which is not necessarily the best strategy to take.

I know I fell into that myself a couple of years ago, and now I’m desperately trying to claw my way out of mounds and masses of blog posts, videos, white papers, and case studies. I’m much more conscientious about what gets created, when, why, and how we can repurpose old pieces of content in new or more effective ways. So I feel like that’s the trend now in Content Marketing is being a lot more strategic about the way the content is created and for what purpose.

What metrics should marketers be paying more attention to in 2017?

Personally, the most important metric for me to be paying attention to is content consumption. What type of content is being consumed, where it is being consumed, who it is being consumed by, and when it is being consumed? I have mounds and mounds of content and it’s all floating around out there, and I want to be much more informed of which parts of that content are actually helping people and that people are interested in

That way I can do two things — first, determine where can I shave off things that are just taking up space and cluttering up my area. And second, for continued content creation. I want to be much more informed about what’s working, what’s not, where to place it, when to place it, and who to push it to. So content consumption in general, and Vidyard is amazing for that as it tells me exactly who is looking at what, where they are looking at it, and for how long. Then we use Uberflip for doing that for all my written content.

What is one content marketing strategy that most companies miss out on?

I feel that client-created content has been a huge part of what has made us so successful in our content creation and content consumption. When I first came on board it was very difficult to get that process started because our clients weren’t used to it. And to be honest, I just hounded people. I called, I knocked on doors, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer, but it’s hard to start that process and have those conversations with your clients.

Saying “Can you help us do this?” and “Would you work on this project even though you have a full-time job and now I’m asking you to do these other things as well?” is sometimes an awkward conversation to have. But four years later I have people knocking on my door — clients I have never heard of — emailing me and saying “Hey I’m doing this thing, and I would love to do a webinar on it. Is that something that is possible?”. And I say “Yes! Absolutely!” I have peers in marketing that say it’s too much work or they don’t know where they would start, ask if we pay them, or what the rules I just tell them that you make the rules up as you go. Do what works for your specific industry and clients. It’s proven invaluable for us.

What’s your favorite campaign that you have been a part of?

We led a Twitter chat last year for those in the educational assessment. We called it #AssessChat, we had an academic lead it, and we gave away tickets to our user conference. It was a great campaign because the whole point of it was to generate buzz around our user conference and get people to show up. But it had the added effect of getting people who were not clients that had never heard of our company and so it was a bit of fuel for the pipeline. Sales got some really great leads out of it, and that was really neat for me because social rarely works in our space. So when it does work, I get really excited about it!

What resources do you turn to in order to get better at your job?

I love the MarketingProfs newsletter! I always feel like their content is really relevant and on-point, and that they’re always on top of relevant topics. I pay attention to what Vidyard and Uberflip post on linked, which puts it right in front of my nose. And I am a part of several B2B marketing groups on LinkedIn, so when I am looking for professional content that’s what I stick to.

Twitter is my jam but its usually flying by during the day when I’m working so I don’t always catch it. I would say whatever type of industry you’re a part of, find some relevant linked groups. I know sometimes they can be spammy but there’s some really good stuff in there was well.

The post Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty appeared first on Vidyard.

from http://www.vidyard.com/blog/client-created-content-key-wise-words-stephanie-totty/

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logancfrench · 8 years ago

Text

Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty

Well the kids of today don’t have to go through that rigamarole, thanks to companies like ExamSoft. And Stephanie Totty is in charge of making sure as many students have that privilege as possible.

To find out all the marketing secrets Totty has learned in her four years at ExamSoft, we chatted with her over Google Hangout. Here’s what she had to say:

How has content marketing evolved since you started?

What metrics should marketers be paying more attention to in 2017?

What is one content marketing strategy that most companies miss out on?

What’s your favorite campaign that you have been a part of?

What resources do you turn to in order to get better at your job?

The post Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty appeared first on Vidyard.

from News By Logan French http://www.vidyard.com/blog/client-created-content-key-wise-words-stephanie-totty/

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peterjcameron · 8 years ago

Text

Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty

Well the kids of today don’t have to go through that rigamarole, thanks to companies like ExamSoft. And Stephanie Totty is in charge of making sure as many students have that privilege as possible.

To find out all the marketing secrets Totty has learned in her four years at ExamSoft, we chatted with her over Google Hangout. Here’s what she had to say:

How has content marketing evolved since you started?

What metrics should marketers be paying more attention to in 2017?

What is one content marketing strategy that most companies miss out on?

What’s your favorite campaign that you have been a part of?

What resources do you turn to in order to get better at your job?

The post Client-Created Content is Key – Wise Words from Stephanie Totty appeared first on Vidyard.

from Peter Cameron Business Consultant http://www.vidyard.com/blog/client-created-content-key-wise-words-stephanie-totty/

0 notes