𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝓉.

Reece was in the awkward place in life where he was an adult with an adult job, but no one told him he was actually one. He had dreams bigger than he could really understand. So here he was, sitting at a park scrolling his phone while learning more about the artifacts he was working on at the museum when he came to the park to see if he could write music. Looking over at the woman, watching her line of sight, he couldn’t help but snicker. “I’d say birds seek ‘em out.” He watched the person freak out about it, but he started formulating an idea already.

Turning his attention towards the woman working on her laptop, he sat up to actually face her. “You’re from here I’m guessing? You ever wanna get dressed up like tourists and go to all those traps and just go all out?” He couldn’t say much since he had a small, overpriced, NYC snow globe sitting on his bookcase from when he first moved to the city, but it held special meaning to Reece. It wasn’t for nothing. “Go all out, over the top. Could be fun.”

-

Noa nodded slowly, shaking her head at the display and internally cringing because of the second-hand embarrassment. That had to be her worst nightmare. She worked hard at making it seem like she was a native and something like that would definitely fuck with the vibe she was going for. “I’m not actually. I like to think this is where I belong, though. The mean streak just comes naturally to me,” she said with a chuckle. His string of questions caused her to frown and turn off her laptop, knowing she wasn’t getting anymore work done. “You want to actively try to look like a tourist? Are you trying to get mugged or do you just want to go on one of those bus tours without people recognizing you?”

It wasn’t all that often that Joy found herself wandering around the parks, yet at times, it was nice to slow down, to simply observe others. She was in between jobs, having more time to herself, and what was better than getting fresh air in one of the most polluted cities in the world? Dressed up in one of her warmest coats, Joy wandered around the city, coming up across the Highline. When was the last time she had been there? It had to be back when she was still Daniela, when she still had a boyfriend and a child. The memories were painful, despite her having had chosen the path she was on, so when she heard a loud gasp, she was quick to focus on it. It seemed she wasn’t the only one, and the woman next to her spoke up, shifting Joy’s attention to her. “It’s a tragic waste of fabric, and the bird seems to be agreeing.”

-

Noa chuckled, immediately relived that the woman didn’t seem put off by her somewhat judgemental take on the situation. She might not have been a native, she had taken to the New York mean streak just fine. “He did us and them a favor. Wear a shirt like that and you’re basically asking to get scammed by someone in a DIY costume of Iron Man,” the brunette said with a quiet chuckle. “I now understand why everyone here constantly complains about tourists.”

closed starter to @noawilder​ location: second circle adult entertainment 

     HIS GAZE was fixed on the city below, of which the pornography distribution building towered above. His own office was at the pinnacle. Some days, when the sky wasn’t as clear, the only view he could catch outside of the glass walls that surrounded two thirds of the office was nothing but fog. Quite literally encased in cloud. Those days held a certain serenity to them. Today, he watched the city below, wondering about the lives of those in the cars that zipped by. Like ants, or grains of sand, from the view up here. 

     This city had been unforgiving in that way. The way he had grown accustomed to feeling his relativity to life could not be found here. There were no stars to look up at in a sky that was dominated by neon lights and LED billboards. Now, when Lucifer was overwhelmed, he took to this: silently watching New York as a spectator, thinking about all the hypothetical lives but his own. Because to consider his own in this moment would surely cause him panic, with no way to expend it. Such anxiety had instead been visiting him in his dreams, wrestling him from the rest he needed. Even in sleep, he could not escape the way the world had been pushing in on him. This was how he grounded himself. 

     What thought he was lost in was interrupted sooner than he felt ready to abandon it. By a short knock on the door to his office. “Come in,” he called, rather unemotionally, and finally turned to see who it was. He’d half expected it to be his new Netflix friends, coming to bother him for more footage. Instead, he found a lone woman making an entrance.

     Ah, right. The vanity fair interview. 

     He’d all but forgotten. And, of course, so had his assistant. He loved the man but god damn was he bad at his job. Lucifer fully turned to face the journalist now with a deep inhale, and nodded towards one of the two chairs that sat opposite of his desk. “Ms. Wilder, right?” he confirmed, before taking his own seat, cascading back into the life he so desperately tried to escape mentally from almost daily lately. 

-

The piece on Lucifer Vale hadn’t been an easy one to sell. Vanity Fair was about fashion, about entertainment, and sometimes politics, but it was always classy. Apparently, according to her bosses, adult entertainment wasn’t. Noa, on the other hand, saw an opportunity. They had broken the story about Anna Delvey, after all, and what was classy about a random chic scamming a bunch of rich New Yorkers? That hadn’t stopped her from grabbing the attention of readers and then snagging a Netflix show. Lucifer Vale came with a Netflix show already attached, so it was clear there was something interesting going on there. That’s probably what sold her bosses on the idea, the realization that the show would lead to endless clicks on the profile she hadn’t started yet. No matter who he was or what he did, he was pretty much walking dollar bills. 

Mustering up all the confidence she possessed, she walked into the man’s office and faced him finally after a couple discussions on the phone. It was the first time she saw him face to face and she had to admit there was something intimidating about him. Thankfully, she was very much reckless when it came to getting a good story. “Yes. Noa. Ms. Wilder makes me sounds like a sixty-something librarian,” she said with a polite smile, sitting in the chair opposite him. “Thank you for doing this, Mr. Vale. Everyone at Vanity Fair is very excited to feature you in the magazine.” A lie, but a harmless one.

There’s a song playing in his head. It’s the same one that’s played over and over for the past several months. It’s taking shape as dark, intense hues, with a stained silver lining of sadness snaking its way through. He knows why sadness is the silver lining in his composition as he watches the families and couples passing by. His fingers drum at the coffee cup in his hand, long since gone cold because he’s lost track of how long he’s been there. People watching was more than a hobby to Keys,it was how he taught himself to interact with them. He didn’t really have that guidance growing up and the older he gets the more he realizes how much that’s taken a toll, why he’s almost obsessed with watching jovial tourists taking embarrassing photos with their family and friends. Wiping melted ice cream and pastry crumbs from their kids’ mouths before exchanging hurried kisses through smiles with their partners. It was the one thing Keys never understood, which made the yearning for it all the more frustrating. A family. 

When he hears the mumbling from beside him, he slowly turns his head. Keys hadn’t even realized someone was sitting beside him. The droning sound of her tapping away at her laptop became a part of the background noise as he was completely lost in his thoughts. Her comment makes him look up at the person. Seeing the stain on their shirt, he frowns and stands, picking up the unopened bottle of water he has sitting beside him. Keys approaches the stranger and gently taps them on the shoulder. With a smile and friendly demeanor, he informs the unfortunate traveler of the stain and hands them the bottle of water if they need it to help try to rinse it off. That turns into him exchanging conversation with the person for a minute or two, laughing and joking with them about the mishap before they thank him and were on their way. Keys sits down again next to the women and stares over at her with a lopsided grin. “You’re right. No need for their day to be tragic too.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his cold coffee before gesturing at the laptop. “Watcha working on, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

-

It said a lot about Noa that the thought of getting up and handing them her trusty Tide to Go hadn’t even crossed her mind. None of it good, unfortunately. She had always been a little self-centered, but was somehow always shocked when small instances like this one forced her to admit it. No one liked thinking about all the shit they were doing wrong. She sat there, frowning as he pulled out a water bottle and proceeded to make small talk with the family of tourists. This guy was either a fucking weirdo or a saint. Either way, they clearly had nothing in common (quick judgement was another issue of hers).

 “That was nauseatingly kind. Now, they’ll think all New Yorkers are nice and they’ll come back. Is that really what we want?” She asked him with chuckle while powering off her laptop and sliding back in her bag. This had put her off track completely. “I’ll tell you, but I want to hear your guess first. What am I working on? First thing that comes to mind.”

The High Line was beautiful, as was the weather, but Blake was regretting deciding to go for an ‘invigorating’ walk along it about half way down the stretch. Her feet killed, her back killed, and tourists were spread across literally every seating area she’d gone past. Finally getting to one with a space on it she moved as fast as she was able to nab it, sitting down with a soft huffing noise. That god for that. Pulling her phone out she replied to an email she’d been meaning to get to all morning confirming a booking for a third birthday cake. The child liked something called Angelina Ballarina - making a mental note to google that when she got home, if she was going to be a mother she really needed to get her head around all these various kids characters. Her knowledge was pretty good considering how many cakes she’d made by this point but there were still gaps that needed to be filled. Hearing the commotion she looked up, eyebrows raising at the scene that had clearly just unfolded, pulling a face at the sight of the bird poop dribbling across the heart. “That’s…wow that’s kinda gross. Poor woman. The shirt isn’t that bad though…if only they’d pooped on the shorts.”

-

The very pregnant woman next to her seemed just as repulsed by the whole display they had been forced to witness, which was somewhat of a relief. Noa could be sort of harsh, she wasn’t completely oblivious to the person she was. “It’s not that bad? The decal is so cheap it looks like she has a giant piece of plastic stuck to her. I just know that’s one of the five bucks shirt you find at every corner in Times Square,” she said with a soft shake of her head, turning off her laptop and putting it back in her bag when she realized she was too distracted to get anymore work done. “The shorts are tragic too, though, you’re not wrong about that. You’re not going to throw up or something, right? I know pregnant women’s stomachs can be a littlle... sensitive.” 

Noa sat comfortably on one of the coveted wooden lounge chaise on the high line, tourists and fellow New Yorkers milling around her. Despite being one of her favorite places in Chelsea, the constant flow of people could be a little much at time. She came out here to work somewhere other than her shoebox apartment, but always found herself missing the comfort of her couch after an hour or two. Not to mention the silence. Her laptop was flat on her lap, her sunglasses perched on her nose, as she worked on her latest assignment for the magazine. Just as she was getting into it, words flowing from her fingertips, a loud gasp and subsequent quiet snickers disturbed her concentration. She lifted her eyes to see a tourist wearing the iconic I heart New York shirt with what she assumed was bird shit dripping down the red heart. “That’s unfortunate,” she commented quietly to the person sitting next to her, her eyes already back on her computer screen. “Although, not really. Those shirts are fucking tragic.” 

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but  [ NOA WILDER ], a [ TWENTY-EIGHT ] year-old [ FEMALE ] has lived in [ MANHATTAN, CHELSEA ] for [ THREE YEARS ]. This is the city of dreams and [ SHE ] knows it, because they came to NYC to be a [ WRITER AT VANITY FAIR ]. Well, that and as an [ SISTER ] to [ TIANA WILDER ]. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ VICTORIA PEDRETTI ]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it!