//------------------------------// // Scene 4: #NoLongerMyself // Story: Post-Processing // by Bookish Delight //------------------------------// At a loss for the moment, Vignette decided the best thing to do was look back on happier times. She closed her current timeline, and went into her archives.  Going back to her older posts, looking at these older pictures, even from merely two weeks ago, felt... odd and off. She'd listened to many a creative media client talk about going back to their old work with disdain, but she'd put their rants out of mind back then, because #BeautyIsForever. Or perhaps not, she surmised. Not the way she shot things.  Honestly, some of these poses—sloppy and shameless. Some of these angles... oh, this one of her last year, at the Riviera Hotel's pool! What was she thinking? You could barely see anything for all of the water that got onto the camera's field of view. A total waste of... however much it had cost her then-employer to put her up in the swankiest hotel in Vanhoover. She hadn't bothered looking at the bill. And yet. And yet this awful picture still got half a million likes anyway, and dozens of happy comments. Which, she reminded herself, was what she was here for right now. At least, the supportive responses could take her mind off of the riffraff currently invading her—  Vignette nearly choked. The memes were on her older posts now, too. Hardly as numerous as her few most recent posts, but some terrible, terrible subhumans were truly dedicated. Vignette considered herself a benevolent soul, but enough was enough! Blocked, reported, would delete in 24 hours once community management got a look at the evidence. She knew people at Snapgab, damn it.  Her phone buzzed again. She clicked the notification, which took her this time to news clips and real footage of the parade itself.  Her brow furrowed. Even though most outlets had chalked the parade up to a light show... some online outlets had started digging. And it appeared articles with headlines like "Vignette Valencia: Malevolent Magician?" and "Behind The #EquestriaLand Parade: Anonymous Accounts" were gaining just enough traction to make her uncomfortable. Vignette had weathered scandals before. (She'd engineered a few, even, but that was beside the point right now.) They'd burn out in a few days, to be sure—they always did—or even weeks, so long as she continued living, and didn't give the slanderers any ammunition.  But, she had to admit as she felt a swelling in her eyes she hadn't been acquainted with in quite some time, she did not need this right now! She wiped her eyes with a spare tissue.  "Rainbooms: trending, my public: condescending. So this is what the people truly think," she whispered, even as she was hit with even more notifications of ever-rising likes from the masses. "Perfect image officially failed, I suppose." Vignette could see the falling dominoes for what they were, and they didn't look pretty. First this, then, surely, her entire career. Why had she ever signed up for these stupid social media things in the first place? Ugh. Honestly, she had contacts in film and TV once upon a time, but no, Vignette Valencia just always had to be on the cutting edge! Her phone sounded once more. She almost reflexively threw it across the shop, but the back of her mind realized upon viewing her screen that it was a notification for... a direct Snapgab message? People rarely sent her those, now that she thought about it. When they originally had, they tended to be stalkers, but that was before she changed her settings to only receive from followers she mutually followed in turn, which trimmed the list of potential senders considerably. Not to mention, this message had an actual user pic attached, whereas most stalkers tended not to. It was a user picture that she almost recognized, but not exactly—a cute green-haired chibi girl's head flashing a V-sign with a wink. With a shrug, Vignette clicked it open and read. "OMG Val!! I totally love how this is shot! Great use of weather and pose to make a mood piece! Applewood much? lol! Hope you're good!" Multiple heart emoji punctuated the proceedings. Mere moments after she'd read those sentence fragments, Vignette already felt... different. As if all of humanity weren't the worst thing ever after all. (Just 99 percent of it.) Who was this angel, come to deliver her from #SocialMediaBlues? She clicked the sender's user picture, and read their profile.  My first follower. The one person she ever allowed to call her "Val", now that she thought about it. The one person on her followers list she actually knew outside of her online space that wasn't a Customer, Client, Enemy, Boss, Employee, Ex-Employee, or Fan (oh, there were so many fans). She... would she listen to me? Vignette pressed "Reply," ready to write out a letter, thank her for the compliments, pour out her heart. Then she realized the platform she was on. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many questions she wanted to ask, to someone who would really listen... and someone to who she wouldn't need to make a million tiny apologies to beforehand for being the world's worst boss first. Rarity was back in her head once more, her words from the Equestria Land opening parade suddenly hitting home. Her words about having a real friend. I've had one of you the entire time, haven't I? The entrepreneurial and public relations spotlight life, as compelling and full of perks as it was... Vignette sometimes had to admit, was also lonely. As lonely as a vision of perfection had to be. Listening to others was her job, getting people to pay attention to the marketing line, just as much so. But being listened to, simply as herself... to say those times came at a premium would be the understatement of the century. She looked at the user picture again, her phone in both hands as she stared at the screen pensively. But I didn't know it. Would you even want to listen to me, after I've ignored you for so long?  After even more thought, Vignette put down her cup, packed her things, and left the shop. She fastened her vest as she looked out into the rain, and opened her umbrella to protect her as she walked to her car. I'm willing to chance it.