Chapter 1: Introduction
Here is a handy chart to see how this all shakes out:
But the good news is that I will make the chapters of this correspond to a ship. Above is the alphabetical order and, from here, they will be ship order. Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Miranda Priestly/Andy Sachs
Acting/Film Stars (100)
Andy leaned forward and Miranda stepped back with a smirk. “Did you fall down and hit your little head?”
Andy laughed indulgently. “My trailer?” She motioned to the door. “Run lines?”
Miranda nodded, “that sounds good. You were a little flat in our last scene.”
Andy closed the door behind them and pinned Miranda to the wall of the small trailer. “Flat my ass.”
Miranda stole a kiss and then fixed her with a stern look. “We’re playing mother and daughter; we cannot be caught. You need to behave.”
“I thought you like me better when I’m naughty.” Andy grinned.
Andy knocked on the doorframe of Professor Priestly’s office.
“Office hours are posted on the bulletin.” She said, not looking up from her book. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Maybe you could make an exception this once?”
Miranda looked up and smiled minutely, looking the girl up and down. “Come in, Ms. Sachs.”
Andy entered and shut the door behind her. “I don’t want to end this.” She admitted.
Miranda took off her glasses and set them down. “We’ve already talked about this.”
“You talked.” Andy shook her head. “I’m not in your class anymore. I dropped it. Just think about it.”
“And don’t forget to pick up Patricia.” Miranda barked as she walked to her office.
Andy furrowed her brow, turning to Emily and mouthing, “who’s Patricia?”
“Patricia! Heel!” Andy shouted as the exuberant Cerberus charged forward down the streets of New York City.
All three heads perked up when they spotted a husky and lunged. Andy offered the husky’s owner an apologetic smile, dragging the hell beast away.
Patricia bounded up the steps, three heads looking in all different directions. Andy was looking for her key when the door opened.
“Hello, my pets,” Miranda grinned. “Would you like coffee, Andrea?”
“Here you go, sweetie.” Andy said, handing Miranda cup of hot tea.
“Thanks.” Miranda grumbled.
“Are they still here?” She whispered.
“Yes. And you don’t have to whisper. Ghosts can hear and see you.”
“Right.” Andy sat down across from her girlfriend. “What do they want?”
“What do they always want?” Miranda sighed, trying to turn away from the pesky spirit.
“Just help it and it’ll move on.” Andy shrugged.
Miranda looked up. “She’s very offended you called her an ‘it.’”
“I’m sorry.” Andy looked toward the spot that Miranda was ignoring. “I can’t see you… I meant no offense.”
“So… what you’re telling me is that you’re a witch?” Andy raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Card carrying.” Miranda nodded. She held up her hand and suddenly a Starbucks cup appeared.
“It’s not like on television,” Miranda continued. “We don’t get up to hilarious mischief. We like to keep a pretty low profile.”
“You’ve been making me do Starbucks runs all this time and you can just poof your lattes into existence?” Andy demanded.
Miranda grinned. “That’s part of the low profile.”
“Well,” Andy draped her arms around Miranda’s shoulders. “I love you anyway.”
“Good. I love you, too.”
Movie Fusion (Back to the Future) (100)
“Andrea, you made it.” Miranda announced as the brunette approached her eccentric boss. “Take out your cell phone. I need you to document this.”
Andy pulled out her iphone. “What is ‘this?’ What is with this car? Where’s your Mercedes?”
“Great scott, Andrea. This is a Delorean.” Miranda patted the hood, “it’s the only car with the exactly right specifications that make the whole thing possible.”
“Make what possible?”
Miranda grinned. “Time travel, Andrea.”
Andy lowered the iphone. “Alright, you got me.”
“Camera up, Andrea. It’s about to get good.” Miranda opened the driver’s side door. “Allons-y, Patricia. Test drive.”
Sex Workers (100)
Andy stopped in her tracks when she saw the silver haired woman in the extravagant dress with the gold trim, layers of fringe and nude fishnets.
The woman took a long drag on her cigarette holder and blew out the smoke slowly. “Not expecting a woman?”
“Not expecting such a beautiful one.” Andy admitted. “I-I’m Andy.”
“Um, for Andrea.”
“Ahn-drea.” Miranda repeated.
“You make my name sound so beautiful…” Andy said bashfully, lowering herself to her knees in front of the older woman. “What should I call you?”
“Miranda…” Andy smiled, sliding her hands under Miranda’s dress.
“Is her highness on the bridge?” Nigel asked, finding Emily.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend going in there. She’s in a mood.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Miranda’s back was to him when he entered. He cleared his throat; she looked up from the photograph of Andy she was holding. Her eyes watery, she gave him a sneer with only melancholy behind it.
“We all left someone important behind.” Nigel said gently.
“You didn’t leave a pregnant wife to go on what was promised to be a routine mission.”
“If anyone can get us home, it’s you, MP. And she’ll wait.”
“Unbelievable…” Miranda sinks down onto the bed. After all these years…
“Did you say something, my love?” Andy calls from the bathroom.
“Nothing…” She mumbles distractedly.
She was born here, for christ’s sake! The cold war ended ages ago! Her parents had told her when she was young about mother Russia but… now they want her? Russia wants to activate her? What does that even mean? Not a chance. No one tells Miranda Priestly what to do.
“Unbelievable.” Miranda says again. What’s a good country to disappear to? “Darling?”
“Yeah?” Andy answers.
“What do you think of going to Malta?”
“Where are the corsets for this dress?” Miranda demanded, “why is no one ready?”
“Here.” Leslie presented two, “it’s a tough call. They’re so different.”
“Hmm.” Miranda pondered. Andy chuckled under her breath as she took notes on her pad.
“Something funny?” Miranda narrowed her eyes menacingly.
“No…” Andy’s smile faded quickly. “It’s just those corsets look exactly the same to me. You know, I’m still learning about this stuff.”
“This stuff.” Miranda sneered. “You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and select that worn lace blouse. You take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. It’s not brown, or copper. It’s bronze. You don’t know that in 2002 Arabella Langridge debuted a line of bronze jackets, then it was Harcourt Bray, I think, who showed a line of bronze Rockabilly dresses. Then bronze showed up in eight different collections. It then trickled down into some grungy open air market where you, undoubtedly, haggled down to a pittance.”
Miranda turned to Leslie. “I think the herringbone.”
Leslie nodded agreeably.
Miranda turned back to the now terrified Andy, returning her critical eye to the formless lace blouse and velvet skirt that Andy wished would just vanish from the face of the earth.
“It’s sort of comical that you think you made a choice- that that exempts you from the fashion industry- when, in fact, you’re wearing an outfit that was selected for you by the people in this room.”
TV Show Fusion (Blindspot) (250)
“What’dya got, Patterson?” Kurt asked.
“I cracked the starscape tattoo. At first I was stumped because it doesn’t match up with any constellations, but then I noticed that the stars were grouped. When you assign them numerical values based on the number of stars per group you get two phone numbers.”
“Do we know who they belong to?” Jane interjected.
“We do.” Patterson pulled up two headshots. “Miranda Priestly, editor-in-Chief of Runway Magazine and Andrea Sachs, journalist with a small-time newspaper and Miranda Priestly’s former assistant.”
“Any hints that they’re involved in anything illegal?” Zapata frowned.
“Not really…” Patterson shrugged, “I mean, adultery laws aren’t really arrestable offences anymore, right?”
“They’re having an affair?”
“I think it’s a fairly logical conclusion.” Patterson responded to Reade, pulling up phone records with dozens of highlighted entries per page. “They’re careful not to exchange text messages but they call each other at all hours of the day and the calls range anywhere from a couple minutes to a couple hours. The calls started five years ago.”
“Wait a minute, didn’t Miranda Priestly marry Salvatore ‘The Reaper’ Falasca in 2009?”
Everyone turned to Zapata in surprise.
“What?” She shrugged defensively. “I like fashion and Mob trivia.”
“Point goes to Zapata because yes. Miranda Priestly is married to one of the gnarliest mobsters in the city.” She pulled up an article from Page Six. “And they’re throwing an anniversary party this weekend in the Hamptons.”
“Guess we’re going to the Hamptons.” Kurt turned to Jane.
Chapter 3: Miranda Priestly/Jane Adler
Coffee Shop (100)
Miranda wrapped the apron around her waist and back around to tie it in the front.
“Welcome to your first day, Miranda.” Jane enthused. “Ready to start learning the ropes?”
“You’re the one training me?” Miranda blinked.
“Do you mind?” Jane laughed.
“No, not at all.” Miranda smiled, almost shyly. “I always thought one of the perks of being the boss was not having to do things like training new employees.”
“Well, maybe you’re a special case.” Jane shrugged, feigning innocence.
Miranda had to stop herself. Hitting on one’s boss on one’s first day was probably not one’s smartest move.
Fairy Tales (100)
Once upon a time, there was a Queen named Silver Snow, she was so called because of the silver white hair that she’d had since she was very young.
She had two daughters with flame red hair and a prosperous kingdom and yet she was not happy. Suitors from far and wide came to woo the queen but not one made her happy.
One sleepless night, she found her way to the kitchen where she laid eyes on the baker. Her heart skipped a beat. “What’s your name?”
“Lovely to meet you, Jane.”
And they lived happily ever after.
High School (100)
“Miranda, I’d like you to meet the new Nutrition teacher, Jane Adler.”
Miranda held out her hand and faltered, both women regarded each other strangely before shaking. “Nice to meet you.”
“Will you excuse me, Jane?” Principal Forrester asked and chased after Mr. Nelson.
“You didn’t tell me you were a high school teacher last night...” Miranda whispered, stirring her coffee.
“Neither did you.” Jane whispered. She chewed her lip nervously. “This isn’t going to be awkward, is it?”
Miranda shrugged nonchalantly, “we had a one night stand yesterday and today you’re my new co-worker. Why should this be awkward?”
Jane rang the doorbell, balancing the two coffees in one hand. A few moments later Miranda opened the door. Jane held out one of the mugs. “For you.”
Miranda sipped her coffee. “Delivered right to my door. That’s what I call service.”
“It’s not like I have far to go.” Jane wrapped an arm around Miranda’s waist. “But I would cross the city to bring you your coffee if I had to.”
Miranda captured Jane’s lips, drawing out a soft moan. “How long before you want to be at the bakery?”
“I can work with that.” Miranda grinned.
“And the whole ‘tennis greats of the past’ thing was insulting enough.” Miranda shouted. “The whole reason I agreed to it was the chance to play Jane Adler again and break that interminable tie.” She spat the word as if it were distasteful.
“Of course, Miranda.” Emily agreed, clutching her clipboard anxiously.
“Call them back and tell them that I will not have her as a doubles partner.” Miranda growled. “I don’t care if it is a fundraiser. Switch me with Barker.”
“I will only play against Jane Adler.” Miranda slammed a ball with gusto. “On the court at least.”
Chapter 4: Miranda Priestly/Donna Sheridan
Miranda sat at the bar in the smoky speakeasy. She’d already fended off the advances of five gentlemen, there was only one person she was there for: Donna Sheridan.
Donna’s smooth, dulcet tones filled the small space. She held Miranda’s gaze, no one else in the world existed in that moment. Miranda was transfixed; Donna was a vision in her cerulean blue dress, sequined and fringed, her long blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun.
Miranda sipped her gin and tonic. Tonight would mark the fifth night she’d take the lounge singer home. Miranda could get used to it.
“Are you a musician?”
Miranda looked down at her cello case. “What gave me away?”
The blonde laughed a little. “I’m terrible at small talk.”
“Not my preferred talk either.” Miranda thought for a moment. “Do you want to sit?”
“And, yes. I’m a concert cellist.” She held out her hand, “Miranda Priestly.”
“Donna and the Dynamos Donna Sheridan?” Miranda blinked.
“In the flesh.”
“I love your music.” Miranda admitted. “It’s the cd in my car stereo right now.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes. Hand to god.” Miranda paused for a moment. “Would you… have dinner with me?”
Villadonna was not like the other gods on Mount Olympus, the ones who viewed humans merely as amusing diversions. Villadonna admired their drive and determination while the others laughed at the futility of their actions. The others fancied themselves great lovers but they weren’t moved to poetry, to great devotion like mortals. It was probably the mortality itself which made the passion all the more precious.
Villadonna particularly admired one mortal woman: Mira Andapolis. She spent her days watching Mira and indeed felt herself moved to poetry.
One day they would meet; Villadonna was the goddess of fate, after all.
“I have to go…” Miranda whispered, not making a move to leave. Her arms were still wrapped snugly around Donna.
“Wish you didn’t have to.” The blonde murmured against her lips.
“It wouldn’t do for The White Devil to be seen canoodling with The Dynamo, now would it?” Miranda teased. “I would lose all my supervillainy cred.”
“Well, we can’t have that…” Donna purred. “You know… I never thought ‘The White Devil’ suited you.”
“What would you suggest, my love?”
“I think you’re a pussycat.” Donna grinned.
“Pussycat. Yeah, that’d strike fear into the hearts of my enemies.” Miranda laughed.
“Miss Donna.” Miranda greeted.
“Sheriff.” Donna grinned. “Are you here on official business?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Miranda leaned on the counter. “Has anyone answering to the name Jacqueline Follet checked in here at Villa Donna?”
“Not as of yet.” Donna replied.
“I think the powers that be mean to replace me with Miss Follet and I’d like to know if she checks in.”
“Of course.” Donna nodded. “But they can’t replace you. The town wouldn’t stand for it.”
Miranda shrugged. “As long as the job is done, folks don’t care who does it.”
“Well, I won’t stand for it.” Donna smiled.
Chapter 5: Miranda Priestly/Lisa Metzger
The woman across the desk identified herself as Lisa Metzger. She’s a psychiatrist and had heard a confession in a session which shook her to the bone. She’s asked me to find the evidence so that she doesn’t have to break her oath.
I’m both apprehensive and intrigued. I don’t get many clients who are as interesting. I am also intrigued by the woman in front of me. She seems fragile, yet strong- like she could carry the weight of the world or she could fall apart.
Sentimentality is not like me at all.
“I accept your case, Dr. Metzger.”
Miranda shifted gears as the little Porsche barreled down the highway chasing the setting sun.
“I appreciate this.” Lisa said from the passenger seat.
Miranda grinned, her sharp fangs glinting in the low light. “I know what it’s like to have to conceal something around other people. Your affliction comes but once a month- why not enjoy it?”
“I love your smile.” Lisa smiled affectionately. “It’s sad that you’re not able to smile in your everyday life for fear of being found out. Do you think you internalize that?”
“Hey, don’t psychoanalyze me.” Miranda teased. “I might just get bitey.”
Miranda smiled, watching Lisa’s paws pounding the grass as she raced around the open field. The light from the full moon bathed the whole area in a bluish glow.
Lisa trotted up to Miranda, panting. Miranda laid down on the grass next to Lisa’s clothes and Lisa laid down, nudging Miranda’s arm with her nose. Miranda wrapped an arm around her, petting her silky ruddy brown fur.
She brought her hand up to rub Lisa’s ear. “Your ears are so soft.” Lisa groaned appreciatively.
“You know, I have always been a dog person.” Miranda kissed the top of Lisa’s head.
Chapter 6: Miranda Priestly/Emily Charlton
Miranda perused the selection in the cabinet, humming pleasantly.
Emily was leaned over the glass topped desk, the cool surface only part of the reason for the goosebumps on her skin. She breathed out slowly, her breath fogging the glass in front of her.
“Ah, here we go.” Miranda smiled to herself, selecting an antique wooden cane. She strode up to Emily, so close Emily could feel Miranda’s warmth against her bare legs.
Miranda teased the cane between Emily’s legs. “Did you choose your safe word?”
Miranda brought the cane down against Emily’s thighs; Emily gasped a guttural moan.
Author’s Choice (Role Reversal) (100)
“Miranda…” Emily sighed. “Are you even trying? Sometimes I don’t think you even want this job.”
Miranda bit the inside of her cheek to stop from snapping at her uppity boss twenty-years her junior. “If you want me to go back out and get the Valentino skirts, I will.”
“Please.” She sneered. “I want you to do as you’re asked, can you do that?”
Back to Emily as Miranda marched dutifully for the door, she grumbled. “You didn’t ask for Valentino.”
“Pardon?” Emily called.
“I said ‘yes ma’am.’” Miranda smiled sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t want to miss out on Paris, would you?”
Chapter 7: Miranda Priestly/Maria Castleton (Original)
I created this character in 2008. Maria Castleton, Miranda's wife, owns Castleton Publishing, hails from Louisiana. PB is Patricia Clarkson
Maria yawned, sitting down at the kitchen table. Miranda set a mug of coffee in front of her wife and stole a kiss before sitting down too, sipping her own coffee.
“Thank you, honey.”
Miranda grinned, “it’s uncanny how strong your accent gets when you know your mother is in the same zip code.”
Maria laughed. “Count your blessings that I don’t start cooking collard greens and black-eyed peas.”
“Ugh,” Miranda teased. “Perish the thought.”
“Will you still be able to join us at the Russian tea room at one?”
“Come hell or high water.” Miranda confirmed.
“You’re my everything.”
Chapter 8: Miranda Priestly General
“How long can we stay here?” Andy demanded, pacing.
“Sit down.” Emily snapped. “Miranda said to wait here.”
“Uh, in case you haven’t noticed the world is basically over. I’m pretty sure I don’t have to do what Miranda says anymore.”
“I fucking noticed!” Emily growled. “And the last thing I need is you flying off the handle, okay?”
“Last thing you need.” Andy scoffed testily. “And why did we come to Miranda’s house in the Hamptons? So we could visit the beach before we die?”
“Not exactly.” Miranda pushed the clip into an uzi as she re-entered the room.
“What do you want?” Red groused from her cot.
Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “I want to help in the garden.”
“Wish in one hand and shit in the other.” Red scoffed, rolling over onto her side. “Your sentence is sixty days. You won’t be here to see the plants. Just take a nap and your sentence will be over.”
Miranda pursed her lips challengingly. “Name your price.”
Red blinked. After a moment, she said, “I would like to hit you.”
“Why?” Miranda narrowed her eyes.
“I know your type. New York socialite bitches.”
“Fine. If you must.”
“You will kneel before your queen!” Emily snarled, approaching the young brunette menacingly.
Miranda held up a hand, uttering only a soft, but authoritative. “Emily.”
Emily scowled at the girl but stood down. The queen was seated on a throne of crushed red velvet. The deep, blood red color made her seem even more pale, her silver white hair almost seemed to sparkle like diamonds. The brunette was suitably awed by her queen.
“You desired an audience?” Miranda said pointedly with an air of mild annoyance and disinterest.
“Yes, ma’am.” The brunette bowed clumsily, trying to gather her racing thoughts.