#we got some ribbons but more importantly we had to stand in shame in the middle of the ring bc SOMEBODY wanted to buck

[ballroomnotoriety]

those knee high spats are called half-chaps! they serve the same purpose as the tall boots Martha is wearing--i.e., to keep your legs from getting pinched by the stirrup straps/keep your jodhs from getting worn out. they're usually worn for training because nobody wants to wrestle those goddamn tall boots on every time. a boot jack and swearing is generally required to get them off. special boots are a must, though, because that little half inch heel keeps your foot from slipping through the stirrup so you don't get dragged if you fall off.

and speaking of jodphurs, those are the stupid looking pants! they also have a purpose. The seat and thighs are often reinforced with suede to make your butt grippier (so you don't slide around in the saddle)(skill issue) and helps keep them from wearing out. and you don't get chafing the way jeans can do.

the stupid looking jackets and shirts serve no purpose except to look fancy and make you spend even more goddamn money getting ready for the already expensive show for your already stupid fucking expensive hobby. the style for these things changes subtly every year and people get weird about it.

it is very nice to see that apparently we've moved away from the insistence that show helmets be covered in velvet which, for some reason, made them enormous so you look like a very foppish bobble-head (and of course, meant spending more money).

“Why is snoop dogg at the Olympics-“

WRONG QUESTION!

WHY ISNT MARTHA STEWART THERE WITH HIM?

[goldenworldsabound]

Dark Magic V

This is the thrilling conclusion of angst, MORE ANGST!!! Catch me crying to myself about this.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

TW in this chapter for mentions of blood and mentions of family deaths

Wendy woke up surprisingly refreshed, despite the prior night’s events. She was impressed with the spell. If only there weren’t the associated cost with dark magic, she’d happily have that spell cast on her every night.

She looked at Viren, who appeared to still be asleep, facing her, looking troubled. She brushed his hair out of his face slowly, gazing at him. She felt terrible for having worried him so much. She had to tell him everything. Even though...she winced at the thought. Even though it would likely make him even sadder to know. Even though she was frightened what he’d think of her. Even though she didn’t want anyone but him to know about it, even now.

She sighed quietly to herself and began to get out of bed. She was surprised when Viren’s hand grasped her wrist before she could complete the motion.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Viren grumbled, tugging on her gently. She allowed herself to be pulled over to him, smiling at how he was barely awake, only one eye partially open, looking like he’d prefer to have let it close.

“I thought since I was feeling so refreshed thanks to your help,” She planted a kiss on his nose, eliciting a sleepy smile from him, “that I’d get a headstart on work today.”

The smile quickly turned into a frown. “Absolutely not.” He started to sit up, forcing himself awake.

She frowned back. “And why not?”

“I- you need to take the day off.” He had expected this reaction from her. To throw herself into her work and put taking care of herself low on the priority list. He was not going to let her do that.

“Excuse you? I thought we established yesterday that there isn’t time-”

“And I thought we established you were more important!”

It was not a pleasant way to start the morning. They were slowly getting louder with each response.

Wendy glowered at him. “I appreciate your concern, Viren, but I’m fine-”

“You understand why I can’t believe that, don’t you?” He interjected. They were both sitting up and facing each other, scowling, looking surprisingly threatening for two people in their underwear. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but with what happened yesterday, I’m worried there’s something seriously wrong.”

“Nothing is more wrong than it already was!” She snapped, feeling herself losing the argument.

“Are you kidding me?! You passed out from using dark magic even though it wasn’t your first time and it was a simple spell, and then you had a nightmare so bad you added to my collection of bruises!” The words had come out far harsher than he had intended, but they had the desired effect.

Wendy took in breath, but paused, mouth slightly ajar. She closed it, looking at him with a hardened expression. “If I told you the whole story you’d agree that I’m fine.” She crossed her arms and looked away.

“Then tell me! I can’t help you, I can’t understand you, if you don’t tell me!”

“I don’t have to tell you ANYTHING!” She yelled.

There was silence.

Viren looked down, sighing. “You’re right. You don’t have to. But I...I thought you...wanted to.” The hurt was clear on his face now.

“Viren, I-”

Viren put a hand over his face. “No, it’s fine, just, just go. You’re right.”

Wendy sighed, putting a hand on the bed between them. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You know me too well…” She chuckled derisively at herself. “I had just resolved to tell you everything, and here I am acting out like a petulant child because I...it scares me. But that’s no excuse for saying hurtful things.”

He put his hand on top of hers tentatively, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand when she didn’t withdraw.

“It’s okay. I’ve certainly had my fair share of hurtful words.” He replied with a wry smile. “I’m just...I really am worried. You can understand that, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I can. I’m just scared that telling you will...change things.” She hung her head.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said last night? Well, I meant it.”

“What, the bit about me being the best assistant ever?” Wendy asked jokingly, trying to cover up the tears that were beginning to brim.

“What?” Viren laughed a little. “No, of course not. Well, yes, that’s true, but more importantly...no matter what you tell me, no matter what’s wrong, I will still love you.”

She found herself in his arms again, but this time she was able to stop herself from crying, sans a few tears that rolled down her cheeks.

“Can I...can I tell you, now?” She asked softly. Instead of trying to ignore the pounding of her heart, she took one of Viren’s hands and placed it on her chest, so he could feel it as well. His eyes widened a little, before his face softened.

“Of course. I’m here for you. You can tell me as much, or as little-”

“All of it. I...I have to tell you all of it.” He nodded solemnly in response. She took a deep breath, and began to unravel her lies.

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

“It’s such a shame…”

“They were so young.”

“And what about their daughter?”

The young girl heard the whispered, hushed words she wasn’t meant to hear, but they left little impression on her. She wandered like a ghost through town, coming out only to acquire what was needed to live, lost in a daze. She was just into her teen years - but she was being forced into adulthood by the events in her life. Childhood was over.

People in town had been supportive, taking turns provide food. But over time that tapered off, as was to be expected. She struggled alone with the grief. Time passed and things became more normal. She practiced dark magic quietly, developing but not testing spells with the family heirlooms, which she discovered were often quite magical in nature.

But one tragedy was not enough.

She was finally starting to feel normal again. She knew that nothing would be the same, but there was a routine, a pattern, a feeling that she would be okay. And it was shattered that day.

One part of her routine was to go out to the words and scour for ingredients for spells.

“I bet I could do something with these mushrooms...these seem like the right kind...the true test is if they grow in the dark...but if I pick them, they won’t…” She tapped her pen against her lips thoughtfully, chattering to herself.

She sat down. The sun would drop low enough that she should detect a faint glow in just an hour. She began to write down ideas for spells involving the mushrooms, if such they were, as well as the other ingredients she had. She was determined to come up with useful spells so she could sell her services in the village. Dark magic was...unusual, in the village. No one really practiced it outside of her. But she’d been drawn to it. It had been scary at first, and the fact that she had to harm magical beings for it was less than ideal, but she was naive, and didn’t think about it much. She could provide assistance with the magic, and hopefully earn a reasonable wage. This was also rather naive.

She fell asleep at some point, leaning up against a tree.

By the time she awoke, it was dark. The mushrooms were glowing. She rubbed at her eyes, standing up to wander back over to fungi.

That was when she heard it. The crack of a branch underfoot. She wasn’t alone. She spun around, and found herself making eye contact with a strange man. The knife in his hand glinted, his wide grin unsettling.

“Hey there, girlie. Surprised to find you out here.” He said, leering.

Without really thinking about it, she took off running, dashing through the trees. It was dark, it was hard to see. She could hear the man chasing after her through the woods, yelling something at her. She was panicked - she didn’t even know where she was headed. Towards the village? Away? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was she needed to get away.

She tripped over a root, yelping as she landed, continue to roll from her own momentum until she came to a stop at the base of a tree.

“I’ve got you now, kid. Stop running, I just wanna talk!” The man was coming into view. She couldn’t get up fast enough.

“Stay back!” She yelled, pulling out the ingredients she always kept on a pouch on her belt. “Don’t come any closer!” She’d never tried this spell before, due to the rare ingredients required. There was a chance it might not work. But there was an equally good chance it would save her life.

The man, of course, did not heed her words. He came closer, walking with intentionality, a frightening specter to the young Wendy. He laughed.

She didn’t know what he wanted, or who he was, or why he was doing this. And she would never know, because at that moment, she executed her spell.

“Sedalb enillatsyrc gnilriws!” She chanted, her eyes beginning to glow purple. The man paused his advance, looking uncertain for a moment. He began to look terrified, as large crystalline structures, spiraling blades of glowing purple, began to appear from her outstretched hand. Before he could react further, she extended her fingers fully, and the multitude of beautiful blades surged forward, as her eyes turned pitch black.

He screamed.

The silence that followed was even louder.

He had been sliced to ribbons swiftly. Used up, the components became dust, blown away by the breeze, their energy gone. Wendy turned away from the carnage she’d caused, puking at the sight and the stench of the blood.

“No, no, no…” She repeated to herself, clutching her head. She had never wanted to kill anyone. But she’d had no choice. It was her, or him. Her, or him. Her, or him….

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

“The spell went off perfectly.” She continued, once she’d regained her composure. She was slouched into Viren, face tear stained, voice wobbly. He held her tightly, looking grim. “Sometime after that I...decided that it would be best not to use dark magic. I had devised a spell that was too potent, I felt. I killed him.”

Viren snuggled her tighter, realizing that there wasn’t much he could say.

“The spell itself...I do not, nor have I ever since then, possessed the materials to do it again. We had an old family heirloom. Some Xadian star crystals. I don’t know exactly what they were, but I would know them if I saw them. I would feel it.” She paused a moment, regaining herself. “That and the...blood mixture. The other ingredients were more ordinary things that I’ve come to possess at various times.”

Viren listened intently. Wendy had seemed to go off on several digressions as she told him the story, while leaving other things as huge gaps, such as the death of her parents. She had only mentioned, not why, or how, but he knew better than to push. And what had come after...clearly upset her more. Of course, he had to admit to himself he was very curious about the spell as she’d described it, but he was being very careful not to ask insensitive questions.

“Actually, I’ve since devised a different spell, to use if I were to come in contact with those crystals again.” Ah, this was why she was lingering on this topic. “You helped me test the weaker version of it, actually. The first spell I shared with you.”

“The crystalline shield?” Viren asked, furrowing his brow. “I see. You’d substitute in the crystals, acquire this blood mixture you speak of, a few other minor tweaks…”

“And you’d have an impenetrable shield, for as long as you could channel the magic.” Wendy smiled. “I’m much more proud of than I am of that...murder spell.” The tired sadness returned to her face.

Viren wisely kept his thoughts about spell to himself. It was impressive, and terrifying. It was powerful. And based on what she’d just told him, it seemed fairly straightforward to make a slightly weaker version of it, which would still be...quite potent. He was certain she would be very upset at such a suggestion.

“You didn’t have a choice, Wendy.” Viren repeated. “It’s not your fault. You were just trying to protect yourself.”

She nodded. She understood that. But the fact that she’d taken a human life…

“I still love you.” He whispered, kissing the top of her head softly.

She teared up for a moment. “I love you too.” She seemed to have regained the strength to continue. “So, the...the vision I had this time around was...that. And I killed him. Again.”

“And the nightmare?” Viren’s eyes widened with understanding.

She nodded. “Again. And again. And again. It had been a few years since it surfaced.” She was trembling again. He squeezed her, running his hands over her arms, trying to soothe her. She took deep breaths until she was calm. “Yeah. That’s...that’s it. Well, I went home, and I couldn’t...stand it. The empty home, the reminders of dark magic everywhere. So one day, without a word, I up and left to come to the castle, to make my life here. And that’s what I did.”

“Why did you take the job as my assistant? Surely you knew you’d have to deal with dark magic.” He asked curiously.

She nodded. “Yeah. I did know that. The truth is, even though I decided not to do it again...I started to miss it. I was developing spells, with no way to test them. That's what I wanted to do. Make spells. Help people. But I...couldn’t do that, on my own.”

It occurred to him then that she had almost certainly tried dark magic after the incident, and she had experienced this on her own. The thought made him want to cry.

“You’ve done that. You’ve been amazing at it.” He replied, trying to ignore that he was also beginning to cry. His heart ached for her and everything she’d been through. She’d been hiding it for more than 10 years. She’d been suffering alone. But she’d chosen to tell him.

“Viren…?” She asked curiously, tilting her head back to look at him. His voice had quivered ever so slightly...she was startled to see tears falling down his cheeks. She turned around while remaining in his embrace, cupping his face in her hands. “Thank you.” A few more tears rolled down her cheeks.

They embraced tightly, as if they would never let go. But eventually they did, and even smiled at each other.

“I think...I do want to do dark magic again. I want to be even more a part of these ‘creative solutions’.” She giggled a bit at co-opting his phrase, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little as well.

“You’re certain? I’ll support you with any decision you make.” He looked into her eyes, and was startled to see the fire in them.

“Yes. I’m certain. I’m not sure I could do it alone...but with you beside me, I think...I have a chance.”

[5hfanfiction]

The Price We Pay

The man raced down the dark alley just as a black arrow whizzed by his ear, narrowly missing him. A very feminine laugh echoed off of the buildings walls from the person chasing him. “A warning shot- next time I won’t miss.” Her voice was young, and sounded playful, as if she was enjoying this. He couldn’t see how someone could enjoy making another person their prey, basically. A second arrow came flying at him at a deadly speed, this time slamming into the back of his thigh. He shrieked as the pain overtook him, causing him to collapse to the ground.

As footsteps grew louder the closer the girl got, his heart continued to be at a too fast pace while pain shot up and down his leg. He knew very well that with this arrow in his leg he’d never be able to escape from the girl.

“It’s a shame,” the girl was still in the shadows, and he waited until she was in the moonlight so he could get a better look at his murderer. “I really do enjoy the chase. It’s a pity that you were such easy prey.” She sighed dramatically, finally stepping into the light. The unnamed man gasped at the sight before him; she was a child! No older than eighteen, maybe even seventeen, with long dark brown hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. Her skin tight black leather suit blended in perfectly with the shadows. She had a simple black mask that covered only her eyes and the bridge of her nose. “Well, Mr. Reed,” he was too paralyzed by fear to jerk away when she leaned down into personal space and reached into his inner jacket pocket. The papers. He was supposed to be on his way to deliver papers before… before, this girl. “This was fun, but I’m not one to keep my master waiting.” With that, her eyes flashed white for a moment as a black arrow appeared out of thin air. She didn’t bother to notch this one before slamming it into his heart.

As she walked down the alley towards the awaiting black town car, her ears and nose began to bleed just as she coughed a mouth full of blood up.

-

Camila strode through the long hallway of Jauregui Manor, attempting to find her master. He was usually in his study working on one thing or another with a client, but he wasn’t there. She checked the dinning room next, but once again he couldn’t be located. There was one place left to check besides his bedroom, and Camila dreaded going there.

Master Jauregui lost his only daughter and child three years ago when she was fifteen. It was a standard assassination gone wrong, and it cost Lauren Jauregui her life. Besides his work, Lauren was Master Jauregui’s whole world. Clara Jauregui, the masters late wife, died during childbirth along with their second child, a boy they named Christopher. He never took a breath.

And if Master Jauregui wasn’t in his one of his regular rooms, he would be found in Lauren’s old bedroom.

Camila slowly shuffled up to the oak door. There was nothing to differentiate this door from all the others in the large manor besides for the green ribbon hanging on the doorknob. She didn’t bother to knock as she shoved the door open on well oiled hinges. Her Master made the staff keep up on all the cleaning in case his daughter some how managed to rise from the dead.

“Master,” Camila dropped to one knee, her head bowed in a show of complete submission. Master Jauregui was merely standing in the center of the room, clutching much too tightly the green bear that Camila remember as Lauren’s favorite childhood toy. Camila wished to tell her master to give up, that his daughter was dead and gone, but knew he would surely kill her for that. While she was his favorite killer, she was nothing compared to Lauren, even in death.

“Yes, child?” He sighed in that detached voice he always seemed to have whenever he thought about Lauren. Even Camila had to admit the girl was well liked. Unlike Camila herself and her master, Lauren was kind. There wasn’t a vicious bone in her body, even if her powers suggested otherwise. “The mission…” He said softly, as if just remembering he sent Camila on one. “I take it it went well?” If a mission didn’t go well, Camila knew not to come back until the target was dead. And if she couldn’t kill them, then she better die trying. Master Jauregui would not employ incompetent sorcerers.

“Yes, master,” Camila still didn’t look up, she kept staring at the off white carpet. Up close, she could see the stains that Lauren had attempted to remove. The markings of a child and teens room. “Philip Reed is dead.” She didn’t know who Lucas was, merely that her master wanted him dead and so he is now dead. “If you don’t require anything else of me, I’ll be leaving you now.”

He turned to look at her now, a permanent frown currently etched onto his otherwise relatively handsome face. Age would have done him nicely, had he not had worry lines on his mouth and eyes making him look older beyond his years. “You’re coated in blood. Yours?” Master Jauregui pointed towards her chest, which was in fact covered in her blood. She hadn’t had time to change once she arrived home. “Your price isn’t getting any worse, is it?”

He sounded so concerned, worried, interested, that Camila nearly believed it for a moment. She needed to remind herself he only cared in case she started to flame out. There was no telling when a sorcerer would flame out. The only tell tale signs were a sorcerers price became too steep to handle. In Camila’s case, every time she would use her powers she would bleed more and more each time until she eventually either lost control of her powers and ending up killing herself, or bled to death. Neither option sounded too appealing. She had never seen someone flame out, but she’s heard enough stories.

“No. It’s the same as it always is.” While her price was annoying and somewhat gross, it wasn’t as bad as some, like Normani for instance. That poor girl had a price Camila wouldn’t wish upon her worse enemy. Normani was the only sorcerer employed by Master Jauregui to hardly use her powers. Camila believed the only reason her master even kept the girl around was because she’s never failed to make a kill, and by hand too. The older girl preferred knives to make it up and close.

Master Jauregui waved her up, and Camila sighed as she stood. So he didn’t have another mission for her. If he did, she would have stayed on her knees. It was the dismissal she had gotten for the past ten years. Though, one could imagine her surprise when instead of allowing her to leave, Jauregui asked, “do you miss her, Camila?”

Lauren. He was asking Camila if she missed Lauren. Memories berated her brain, forcing her to think of the times they spent as children, before she made her first kill. Lauren didn’t have to fight to be the best, like Camila did against Ally and Normani and Dinah. For as long as Camila could remember they were fighting each other to win Master Jauregui’s favor. But not Lauren. She didn’t talk to Camila to figure out any weak spots, or any advantage she could for a fight. Lauren talked to Camila because she wanted to, because she wanted to befriend her.

Yes, Camila missed Lauren more than anything else. She missed the older green eyed girl who always wore a smirk, who never wanted the life of an assassin, who would do anything to please her father. But more importantly, Camila missed the girl with the playful glint in her eyes that would sneak into Camila’s room at night only to stay up the whole night talking and watching movies.

“Of course, master,” Camila finally said softly. She refused to meet his hard gaze as she stared out the window her and Lauren used to jump from in the middle of the night to watch the stars. “I miss her everyday. But…” she wasn’t sure how to continue. Master Jauregui had never asked her a question like this, even though he knew how close she and Lauren were. “I can’t let myself dwell on it.” That should be good enough to not provoke him, but enough to make him happy. “If I dwell, I’ll become blinded by the sadness, the grief. I can’t let that happen.”

It was quiet for too long, an awkward and tense sort of quiet that made the hairs on Camila’s neck raise. Just as she was about to ask for permission to speak (Master Jauregui had a strict ‘spoke when spoken to’ rule for his sorcerers) he finally spoke up. “You may leave, Camila.”

Finally.

Camila didn’t wait another heart beat before quickly exiting the room, heading straight towards her own. She was in desperate need of a shower, as well as sleep. It had be, what, almost twenty-four hours since she last slept? Much too long, but for whatever reason Master Jauregui insisted Camila complete the mission the moment she received it. A little out of the ordinary, but not too odd.

She reached her room at long last, falling onto the soft down mattress. It felt like forever since she had gotten a chance to lay down. Too tired and worn out from using her powers, Camila only had enough energy to strip herself of her tight black suit and weaseled her way under the covers in just her underwear. Thanks to Master Jauregui, Camila couldn’t stop the memories that constantly flooded her mind of Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren danced around Camila’s kick, the smile never leaving her face even as the younger of the two landed a hard punch to Lauren’s stomach. That infuriating smirk that Camila had come to love over the years only intensified and she barely had a moment to prepare herself before Lauren threw a serious of jabs and kicks that sent Camila spiraling to the ground. Once on the ground, Camila didn’t bother to get up, simply enjoying lounging on the black mat.

Camila patted the spot beside her, and a moment later felt it dip slightly as Lauren laid beside her. They should be training, and Camila knew if her Master walked in he’d skin her alive. But she didn’t care right in this moment as she relaxed next to her best friend.

“Camz,” it was the nickname only Lauren was allowed to call her, the nickname that instantly brought a smile to her face. “We’re going to be friends forever, right?”

“Friends forever, Lolo.” They were fourteen and fifteen at the time, with a whole world of possibilities at their fingertips. But to them, none of that matter if they couldn’t be friends forever.

“Friends forever,” Camila mocked now, shaking herself from the memory. “Yeah, right. You left me. I loved you. And you left me.”

-

Michael Jauregui sat at his desk, holding the unopened papers one of his assassins brought for him. Camila. He smirked as he thought of the vicious child, who he knew would do anything for his approval. She’d kill her own teammates, if he asked. It always worked out in his favor to have a flawlessly loyal killer on his side. Camila was a murderer, and a good one at that. Her powers made her important, and her ability to perfectly wield those powers made her dangerous.

Yes, he had definitely trained her well.

Better than he trained his own daughter, since Camila had managed to survive all these years, when his own daughter couldn’t. Michael supposed he was cursed, since all the people he found he actually loved had died. First his son, who had never even taken a breath, and then his wife, who gave her life to birth a dead child. And his Lauren, his poor, lovely Lauren.

Michael jerked a letter opener through the paper, skimming it once, twice, three times to make sure what he read was true. The longer he continued to stare at the letter, and the picture attached, the faster his heart beat. The letter shouldn’t be true, couldn’t be. He’d seen the grave himself, seen the casket go down with his own eyes. Of course, the body was too burned to do anything more than know it once belonged to a teenager girl.

A war was going on inside him, should be believe the paper and picture, or no? If what it says is true… If Lauren’s alive…

-

And that is the first chapter! It’s really just a shorter part to explain some of the things going on, basically just background. Let me know if I should continue or nah? I’ll explain more about the sorcerers and magic and their prices later on of course. And soon you’ll meet all the other characters as well, and find out about Lauren.

LOOKING FOR A BETA IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED! 

also on Wattpad 

[musesmilk]

OLIVIA PEACE

Olivia Peace graduated Northwestern University with a degree in radio/television/film, and during that time she took on an ambitious and beautiful thesis called Pangea. Pangaea is currently cruising through the festival circuit, screening in significant programs like Hollywood Black Film Festival, NFFTY (National Film Festival for Talented Youth), Citizen Jane, and even got picked up by PBS! 

“I made my film Pangaea as a critique of tragedy voyeurism and live-streamed pain. I think that for my generation, Hurricane Katrina was a prominent example of the media frenzy exoticizing people’s suffering- many times creating a numbing effect on spectators. Childhood trauma is just as real and devastating as experiencing trauma as an adult and often because it is so overlooked and underestimated, it goes untreated.”

Muse’s Milk: Tell us your story.

Olivia Peace: I’ve been drawing and painting for as long as I can remember. I used to go to art shows and win blue ribbons for my pencil and charcoal pieces, and became pretty comfortable doing that. As I got older, I only became more passionate about visual art.  I worked hard to expand my skills further to graphic design, fashion design, photography, etc.

Later in high school though, I had some great English teachers who inspired me to begin writing. I moved away from visual art as I became more engrossed in the written word. Soon I was planning book ideas and writing short stories in my spare time. I always laugh and justify myself by telling people that I’m a Capricorn, and by that I mean that I make up my mind quickly, and I then I run hard in that direction. So by the time I began applying to colleges, I was fully planning to pursue a career in creative writing. I went to Northwestern University originally enrolled as an English major. However, as life would have it, after taking a single quarter's worth of writing classes, I realized that my work felt incomplete.

That very same quarter I met this wonderful woman who mentored me, and she introduced me to the guidance counselor of the film school. I took an intro to film class and fell in love with being on set and with taking up space in leadership roles within film production (and with boosting other POC to take up their space within film as well). I’d always been a bit reserved, but on set I found myself feeling totally comfortable leading. It was a match! I switched majors immediately. Filmmaking pushes my loves for storytelling with my passion for visual arts into perfect harmony. I also found that I really enjoy encouraging my crew members and actors to push their ideas to their fullest capacity on set. It’d wild how many people have inspired my journey to get to this point, and even since making my own films, I’ve become fascinated with animation and coding and I’m currently learning about new Virtual Reality tech. I truly think that the sky is the limit with storytelling through independent filmmaking. I love seeing simple ideas transport audiences to places far outside of their comfort zones.

Currently I live in Chicago and really love it here, and I’ve also been traveling a lot with my film and as a part of Sundance Ignite’s Fellowship program. I’ve found myself learning and growing exponentially and there’s still so much to learn and still so much room to grow! Sometimes it’s an adventure and sometimes it’s answering emails.

MM: What was the inspiration for your narrative, Pangaea? What was the directorial experience like?

OP: I made my film Pangaea as a critique of tragedy voyeurism and live-streamed pain. I think that for my generation, Hurricane Katrina was a prominent example of the media frenzy exoticizing people’s suffering- many times creating a numbing effect on spectators. Childhood trauma is just as real and devastating as experiencing trauma as an adult and often because it is so overlooked and underestimated, it goes untreated.

I came up with the concept of “Pangaea” from a flashbulb memory I had of watching news footage from Hurricane Katrina back in 2005. My family was glued to the television as we saw all these adults (mostly journalists or experts of some sort) parade in front of the camera. The most memorable moment for me however, was seeing this little boy push his way on screen. 12 years later, I can only remember the last three words he said to the camera: “Shame shame shame!” Seeing this woke me up to how real and dire of a situation people were in.  That moment inspired me to create a film from a child’s perspective to call people out in a similar way.

There were several challenges involved in the making of “Pangaea,” including the fact that we shot most of it standing atop of a real roof with a 6-year-old lead actress. Long story short, my crew was stellar! We road tripped 15 hours down from Evanston to New Orleans together over spring break. Half of us stayed with one of the Associate Producers who lived down there and the other half stayed in the AirBnB that we shot the film in. We had some underwater sequences, we had some animated sequences and through it all- I ended up having a really fun time making it. I sincerely cannot complain at all. I’m super grateful to everyone who helped bring our story to life. And shout out to all the mothers who went above and beyond to bring our young actors to set (some even stepped in as extras!).

What worried me the most though, was getting the story right. Since I was born and raised in Michigan, I‘m very much an outsider to New Orleans culture and I believed it wouldn’t be authentic or right for me to try to tell this story on my own. I took great care to make sure that I involved New Orleans in the making of this film as much as possible. My team and I researched Hurricane Katrina heavily. We read books on childhood survivors of Katrina, we talked to a child psychologist that worked with kids from New Orleans after the hurricane, we talked to a journalist about ethics in storytelling, but most importantly I personally sat down with people who were there when it happened. It was also very important to me to shoot on location in New Orleans and that my actors be from Louisiana as well. I think that my experience making this film has given me a new love for research and script revisions and all in the name of me being careful to tell this story without being exploitive or sensational. It’s also given me a huge love for New Orleans. I think New Orleans is honestly one of the dopest places in the world and it deserves so much shine!

MM: Could you speak on what it means to be an Aesthetics Engineer?

OP: I came up with that term later in college. People would ask what I specialized in or what I was interested in pursuing, and it was always something visual: draftsmanship, graphic design, special effects makeup, production design, creative coding, animation, film direction, etc.

I love thinking of art methodically: you’re presented with a problem (a concept to bring to life) and then it’s up to us as creatives to find a way to build the idea tangibly from start to finish. This does usually take a lot of engineering. Whether I’m crafting props out of silicone, or building a body cast for a sculpture, or animating a sequence, the things I find myself doing to make a piece of artwork successful tends to take a lot of self-taught precision.

The way I use the word “aesthetic,” I’m usually referring to a specific combination of elements used to create an overall tone. For example, my “aesthetic” for the day could be “Rock star grieving widow” and that could physically take the form of an all-black ensemble with church shoes and blown out hair. I usually consider the aesthetics of my art pieces first, before even developing a story. Visuals come more naturally to me than anything.