#english second language courses nyc

[endzithefangirl]

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

[czrpenters]

all the things she said | sam carpenter x reader

summary: sam could be impulsive sometimes and you hated it.

warnings: slight scream vi spoilers, but nothing too big. angst with smut at the end. top!sam & bottom!reader. english is not my first language.

pairings: sam carpenter x fem!reader.

word count: 2.3k words.

masterlist | request rules.

It felt way too good to be true, to be completely honest.

You were a survivor, a fighter. When the Woodsboro attacks happened again, you were there. You survived. You got stabbed in your back 4 times and it damaged your nerve. You would never walk normally again. But you still survived. Liv and Wes couldn't say the same. And you were so grateful that life, god, fate, whatever you wanna call it, gave you a second chance.

So, like any sane person would, you and your friends decided to leave Woodsboro behind. All of the trauma and the pain should stay right there, where it belonged. You all needed a fresh start. Chad and Tara enrolled into college, Sam finally started therapy and Mindy got a girlfriend, just like you did. You started to work in NYC as a photographer and, surprisingly enough, started dating Sam. Like I've said; way too good to be true.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You said while getting up from the couch. A ghostface attack, on an alley. A college professor died brutaly. She was young, so freaking young to just die in the hands of an asshole with a mask on. "Guys, I think y'all need to see this..."

You said, grabbing the attention of the Core Four (horrible name, by the way), making them leave the kitchen and watch the news with you. The room once filled with laughter got quiet all of a sudden. Tara was in the verge of tears, Mindy was shaking. Chad couldn't even speak. But Sam was the only one who took action and said something. "Pack your shit, we're leaving."

Your girlfriend fled the room, going to the kitchen to grab her knife and to start packing up her stuff, but you followed her. "Yeah, no? We can't do that, Sam. We can't just, leave!"

"Like hell we can't." She finally grabbed her knife and went to her bedroom.

"You think we're gonna be safe if we leave? He followed us, Sam! What makes you think he's not going to again?" She didn't even listened to you, just started packing her stuff like you weren't even there. You put both of your hands on the top of the suitcase, preventing her from continuing. "Stop this and listen to me, babe."

"Don't call me that in front of them, (Y/N)." You rolled your eyes.

"Fuck that, no one is fucking here. I already know you're ashamed of me, you don't need to remind me." Sam looked at you, with a tired look on her face. Here we go again, she thought.

"You know that I'm not ashamed of you, (Y/N). It's complicated and you know it." You huffed, closing the door so you both could have some privacy. "Complicated my ass, Samantha. You don't wanna be seen with me and that's fucking fine, I can handle it. What I can't handle is the fact that you don't take my opinion into consideration!" You ran you hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "We cannot just fucking leave here, Sam! Tara has her life here, she wants to be freaking normal and that's not gonna happen if you move us around the country like we're fucking nomads." She tried to speak but of course, you didn't let her. "Plus, we need to know what we're dealing with! Who we're dealing with! They may wanna come after you again, and if they do, they're not gonna just give up. They're gonna follow us if we don't stop them, Sam. You know I'm fucking right."

"I am trying to do what is best for my family, (Y/N). We're going to fucking die if we go through this shit again!" She raised her voice at you. So she wants to fight, huh?

"And I'm not, Sam?! Is that what you fucking mean? That I wanna stay here because I want all of us to die?"

"Tara doesn't fucking need this anymore! Not again! We're leaving New York and that's final!" She started packing her bags again, making you angrier by the minute.

"I'm sorry to say that but that's not how life fucking works! We are a family, Sam! We get to make all of our decisions together!"

"No, (Y/N)! We are not a fucking family! Tara and I are family, you're not. So just stop trying to decide what is best for us and leave us the hell alone!" She screamed loudly, looking at you with rage in her eyes. Hearing all of that shit from her broke your heart into million pieces. She was right, you were not her family. You felt your eyes start to water and it made you laugh, ironically. Sam realised what she just said, and the expression on her face just softened. "(Y/N), I..."

"You're so fucking right, Sam. I'm not your family. You don't even have the guts to tell people we're dating, so I guess you're right." You said, smiling through the pain. "You know what? If you really want to, I'll leave you alone."

You opened the door, grabbing your jacket and keys, getting ready to leave the apartment. Sam didn't even tried to stop you; she just stood there, speechless. All of them heard you fight, but they also didn't said anything, until you were just about to leave. "(Y/N), don't go out. Ghostface is out there, you know it's not safe. He might..." Chad started but you interrupted him.

"Kill me? Yeah, I'm aware. But I just learned today that it wouldn't make a fucking difference if he did." And then you left, going to god knows where.

--

It has been a couple of hours since you fought with Sam. She's been trying to contact you and left, literally, more than 100 messages on your phone, but you didn't replied to any of them. You were too hurt to reply to any of them. You just found a bar downtown and drank the whole night. Thank goodness you didn't got drunk that easily, otherwise you wouldn't even be standing still right now.

"It was hard to find you." You heard someone say behind you, making you turn around. It was Sam. Her eyes looked puffy, like she's been crying for hours, a heartbreaking scene to be honest, but you didn't said anything and took a gulp of your whisky. "I had to track down your phone, like, a million times..."

"Sam, I-" You tried, but she interrupted you immediately. "I just wanna talk, okay?" You huffed and look straight ahead, letting her sit right next to you. "I hate it when you drink."

"Well, I guess we're both disappointed right now." You laughed ironically which made Sam take a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for what I've said. Truly. I was upset, and scared. We all are. Just come back home so we can talk about all of this." She pleaded, holding your hand over the bar table. "And you're absolutely right. I don't need to hide anymore. You make me happy, (Y/N). Happier than I've ever been in so fucking long. I don't need for this, for us, to be a secret. And I'm so sorry for making you feel like I was ashamed of you."

"I know that, don't worry. It's fine." You held her hand and kissed the back of it. "You know that we can't go, Sam. We need to stay here and figure out who is behind all of this." She nodded.

"I know... It just scares the shit out of me. I don't want to go through this again, I don't want Tara to go through this again. I don't want you go through this because of me."

"Stop it, okay? This is not your fault, baby. They're just some psychopaths with a mask on who have nothing better to do." You kissed her hand again. "We're gonna get through this, like we always did. And plus, I wouldn't mind killing another ghostface." You joked, making her smile a little. The most beautiful smile in the world, you dared to say. "Come on, let's go home."

--

"I fucking KNEW IT!" Mindy yelled, pointing at you while laughing a little. "I've always felt some sapphic vibes from you both, damn. The gaydar never fails."

"And why you waited until now to tell us? Especially now, actually, with the whole ghostface shit going on." Tara asked, making Sam look at you then her.

"I don't know. It's just, ever since Richie, it felt weird and stupid to date again. I thought I'd never trust anyone ever again. It felt safe having this little secret, for some reason. And I'm sorry from keeping this from you, really." She said, while holding your hand. It felt good to finally reveal the secret. You guys could, actually, hold hands in public. And kiss, and call each other pet names. It felt really freaking good.

You guys stayed up all night talking and drinking, the six of you. Anika got really close with you guys so she felt like family at that moment. It made you guys forget for a few hours about anything that was going on, especially ghostface.

After a while, Chad, Anika and Mindy decided to leave. It was getting pretty late and they didn't wanted to walk around the city late at night out of fear. Tara decided to study a little bit, and your roommate Quinn was at some hookup's house being sex positive, or whatever that means.

"Did you do it for me?" You asked, while looking at Sam. She was changing into some more comfortable clothes while you were laying down in your bed. It felt nice to finally share a room with her instead of Tara, to be honest. "Did what, babe?"

"Told them. If you really wanted to be a secret, still, I could handle it..." She smiled at you and walked towards you, laying down on top of your body.

"I wanted to tell them, babe. Seriously. It feels nice to finally be out there, too. I didn't wanted you to think that I did it because of our fight, or ghostface, or anything. I did it because I love you, (Y/N). You're my girl. I want everybody to know that." She whispered the last part, getting closer and closer to your face while she talked. You could feel her hot breath against your skin, and her mouth looked incredibly kissable at that moment.

"Don't do that." You mumbled, looking at her eyes. "Do what?"

"This. It makes me... feel things." You always felt so shy in front of Sam. She had this whole protective aura around her, that it made you actually want to be protected by her. It turned you on, even. "Feel what, babe?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Sam..." You diverged you look to the wall, but she held you chin between her index and thumb, making you forcibly look at her. Her eyes were darker now, filled with something that you knew exactly what it was.

"It turns you on, huh? When I call you mine?" She got closer, if that was possible, making your lips rub against each other. Her free hand made its way to your stomach, then your thighs, and your legs. Without ceremony, her hand got into your pants, fitting like it really belonged there. You were already embarrassingly wet by now, which made Sam smile a little. "Oh, you're already like this, babe? I didn't do anything, yet."

"You know you don't need to do nothing, Sam..." You swallowed, closing your eyes. You were completely at her mercy and she knew it, and knowing her, she would take advantage of that pretty soon.

Sam started to make circular movements on you clit, over your soaked panties. It made you shiver and tremble under her body, which made her laugh slightly. The way you were moaning softly to not starle Tara in the other room was heavenly, she loved being the one making you moan like this. "Sam..."

"Hm?" She replied, innocently. "M-More..."

She promptly obeyed, entering your panties and sliding one digit into you, making you gasp and arch you back. You were holding back your moans like crazy but let one slip. "Shhh... Tara is right in the other room; we don't want her to hear that, hm?"

You shook your head no, looking at her. Her eyes were filled with lust and desire; you could almost feel how much she wanted you right now. She started to pump her finger inside of you, starting slowly; then increasing the pace gradually. "Fuck, Sam..."

"You feel so good around my fingers, baby. So fucking tight... " She said while kissing your neck, leaving some love bites all over your skin. "You're fucking made for me, and only me."

"Only you..." You admited, without even thinking straight. She made you feel at cloud nine, all of the pleasure was something that only she made you feel. She added another finger, thrusting them inside of you deeper by the minute. You were spending all of your energy in holding back your moans, and you would hate if Tara walked in on both of you. Sam felt your pussy tighten around her fingers, making her smile slyly. "Come on, baby... Cum for me."

That was everything you needed to hear to finally release on her fingers, with a loud moan that you couldn't supress this time. Sam rode your orgasm perfectly, putting her own fingers into her mouth when you were done. "Delicious."

"You're unbelievable, Sam." You tried to say, out of breath. She held your chin and kissed you slowly, lovingly. "And you love it."

Before you could say anything, you heard some knocks on the wall next to you. "There are people trying to study here! Go be all porn-huby somewhere else!" Tara yelled, making you widen your eyes and blush. "I'll never leave this room again, Sam."

⠀

[pattwtf]

Hi Patt!

I have some questions for you inspired by the Office Ladies podcast—

What was your first job?

What languages do you speak?

What is a place you have been to that you love?

What is your favorite midnight snack?

First of all... I MISSED YOU❤️

Second... I LOOOOOOVE THIS ASK

There we go!!!

My first job was in an international sport company, in one of their stores selling all sort of things for indoor fitness retail. It's called Decathlon. Just a part time job. But I liked it!

I'm a native Spanish speaker, since I'm from Spain, and I also speak English and a bit of Italian and French, but not fluently at all 😅 I understand those two last languages more than I speak them. BUT, I love them.

Wow, this one's hard... I guess NYC since I was so thrilled to be in the States, living with a host family that were soooo kind to take me there so I was freaking out... And London, where I lived for 8 months cause fate was the one to take me there then, but it was like a dream come true cause I wanted to live in that city since I was 13, I was obssessed. Didn't like it that much, living there... Quite stressful and I had a pretty shitty job but I made friends I get along with nowadays.❤️

Aaaand POPCORN is, of course, my fav midnight snack, no doubt at all.

I'd love to know your answers if you wanna share them with us😉

Thank you once again for being so kind, so creative and such a lovely person😍

[constellaetions]

REYHAN AYLIN SOLMAZ / cis woman (she/her) thirty-five years old — august 30th, 1988 (virgo sun ; aquarius rising ; taurus moon)

+ Loyal, Dedicated, Hard-working - Self-Critical, Logical, Detached

assistant editor in JJP publishing & aspiring writer. Native to Portland; has lived in Downtown since May 2020.

tl;dr

Born in Portland, OR and moved around a lot growing up, before her parents settled in Chicago. She went to Northwestern University and studied English Literature and Creative Writing. After Uni she moved to NYC where she worked all kinds of jobs, before getting herself an entry job at JJP's New York branch. A few years later, she was offered a higher position at the Atlanta branch, which made her move to Magnolia Springs.

Reyhan was born and raised in Portland-Oregon, to a second-generation immigrant Turkish mother and an American-born Turkish father. Growing up, she had always felt like she couldn’t fit in. Kids made fun of her quiet way and called her different names, which made her become even more recluse and resort to books. Her family also moved a lot, due to her father’s job, so to Reyhan, books were her closest friends, for it was in them that she could find people who trusted or different, beautiful places to travel to. 

She found comfort in dreaming of worlds and people, different languages, and different homes to live in. Everything and anything would soon become a short story or poetry in her hands. Life wasn’t the greatest all the time, but not all poems were happy ones and the world’s greatest stories were not exclusively happy.

Although she had always loved doing it, just like anyone who really wanted something, Reyhan was not confident in her writing at first. Despite being encouraged by friends and family, and having even gone to university to perfect her writing skills and try to follow a possible career in writing, she would often keep those words in a tight grip within her arms, afraid that people would not like them one bit. 

She was still living with her parents, this time in Chicago. Her father, by then, had found a job that allowed him to stay longer in one place, but Reyhan didn’t like the city. She had always felt like it wasn’t for her. That year, she was working as a part-time English Literature TA when, after celebrating the arrival of a new year, she decided to move to New York City with some friends and try to make it there. If not as a writer, then at least, she would do something that would make her happier.

New York, of course, was a fiasco. For the most part, that is. Hearts were broken, careers were frustrated, and friendships were tested, but everyone seemed to have survived in the end. It was in New York that she met one of her best friends in this whole wide world, and together, they helped each other grow up both in the personal side and in the professional aspect of it. 

Reyhan felt like that was it for her never-born writing career, so, she resorted to teaching again, as the bills kept piling up and her self-critical self refused to like anything she was writing and focused on hyping Nadia’s career up. Five years ago, however, she received an offer from a publishing company to move to Atlanta and work as an Editorial Assistant, which, rekindled an old flame in her and sparked an old dream once again. She decided to take the opportunity and hold tightly to it because the doors were finally opening for her. 

This time, however, she wouldn’t have Nadia hold her hand and back her up, nor the other friends who had moved to New York with her those years ago. It would be her first time in another city completely by herself, but she was up for the challenge, after all, she had already given up on writing, and she wouldn’t give up on growing into her own person. She settled in Magnolia Springs, a small and adorable town only a half-hour drive to and from Atlanta, where paying the bills was easier and the lifestyle was less chaotic.

Reyhan, despite being somewhat quiet, is a warm person who still believes in finding love, even though she keeps searching for it in all the wrong places. She still dreams of writing a book, but now that she has been picking up more work at JJP and reading more manuscripts, pitching starting writers to her bosses, she hopes to, one day, become an editor, herself.

[leoxclark]

About Leo

Full name: Leonardo Andrew Clark Nicknames: Leo  Age: 35 years old Place of Birth: East Haven  Occupation: CEO at Clark Publishing, Owner of Book Haven  Education: Buisness major with minor in Literature  Languages: English, Italian

[ Giacomo Gianniotti | 35 | male | he/him ] Hey, look! It’s [ Leonardo Clark] at [Clark Publishing East Haven and Book Haven]. Did you know they [work] there as a [CEO and Owner]? I guess they’re from [East Heaven] and have been in town [since they were born], living in [Primrose Heights]. I also heard they’re a little [entitled], but also very [charming] which definitely makes sense. [ Sirius | 31 | gmt+1 | she/her ]

More Information

His father is American and a Clark, one of the Founding families, and his mother is second generation Italian-American. His maternal grandfather is the head of a prominent Italian family. His family founded East haven with the other Founding families.

Growing up Leo had everything he could ever want and more. As a founding family member he grew up with a golden spoon in his mouth and a sense of entitlement, importance and knowledge he could do whatever he wanted and he would never really get in trouble. This made him reckless and brazen from a young age, constantly pushing authority but also easily taking credit from others. 

While Leo was quite a brat, he was popular enough in school and among his peers. He always shared his familys wealth and good fortune with his friends. Of course that meant even as a little boy he had friends who were only with him to get their share, but he didn’t much care as long as they appeared loyal. 

He was a bit of a sleeze ball in high school, but could not stand bullies. So even though he was a popular kid at his private school, he did not watch anyone being bullied or participated in bullying himself. He stood up for the underdogs, yet did not go out of his way to help those in lower social circles. 

He grew up as his mothers favourite and most cherished child. In her eyes he could do no wrong and she always boasted of his accomplishments big and small. She also has been overly involved in his love life, always having an opinion on the few women he has seen with serious intent. 

Because of his mother he has a love of Italian cuisine and speaks Italian. She spoke Italian at home his entire childhood and they still converse in Italian when it suites them. All his siblings can also speak Italian and have been raised with both American and Italian values and culture. 

He went to Uni for a Major in Business and minor in Literature but he partied a lot and was more invested in having a great time than doing well in class. When he did have to apply himself though he had good grades and he never failed a test or had a low grade on an exam. His father would not have accepted that from him.  

His familys Publishing company also has offices in NYC and Boston, both of which he oversees as CEO. 

While his father had him sit in on meetings and meet with investors and others in the business when he was in college, Leo never had to get his hands dirty as he was interning with his father for 2 years before taking over as owner and CEO the moment he graduated from University.  

He is a notorious playboy who have only had one serious relationship. His girlfriend of three years, who he was genuinely planning on proposing to, disappeared 7 years ago, literally falling off the face of the earth. Leo felt very betrayed and was heartbroken. He has not pursued any serious relationships since and decided to only have a good time with women. His father does push for him to settle down from time to time, but he usually uses work and building his career as an excuse. The way he frames it is he is too consumed and busy being a CEO to focus on starting a family at the moment. 

He knows he can’t remain single forever though, as both his parents expect grandchildren. This worries him and in his darker hours he frets about having to give up his independence and commit to someone. In his eyes women can not be trusted and he expects to be betrayed or left behind. 

He has a love of high end tailored suits and clothing, cigars, cars and expensive wine and whiskey. 

As the oldest sibling he has always been a very loyal and caring brother, always being there for his siblings and making time for them when they need him. He is however notorious for not asking for help himself. 

[aboutacecareer]

English Second Language in NY

Want to improve your English fluency? Ace Institute of Technology can help! Our English second language course in NY is designed to help non-native speakers learn how to speak, write, listen, and read English fluently. Enroll today!

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Preparation For Victor’s 2023 Birthday Celebration

Victor’s official birthday group 李泽言0113生贺组 has already started preparations for his 2023 birthday celebration since last month! ❤️

The reason I’m posting this here is that, as a part of the celebration, they are calling for birthday wishes from Victor admirers, keeping the tradition of the past years alive!

Official videos of the previous years:

【2019】 → ♡

【2020】 → ♡

【2021】 → ♡

【2022】 → ♡

Messages through video are appreciated, but if you find it inconvenient, you can also use audio + pictures. If any of you are interested in participating, please note the details and guidelines below! (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

—

[Theme]

If you feel like something interesting or joyful or memorable has happened to you recently, or perhaps something inconspicuous happened and things didn’t quite go your way — and you’d like to share it with him, please go ahead.

You can also talk about your passion, interests, goals – the inspirations you have gained from him. Or, something trivial from your daily life, or a beautiful sunset, or the night view... – which has somehow reminded you of him. Or the traces that he has left on your life throughout these years – share your heart with no reservations, is all.

And of course, the vital part, don’t forget to include your birthday wishes for him!

–

–

[Guidelines]

It’s recommended that your video doesn’t exceed the 1-minute duration.

There is no language barrier. Share your message in Chinese / English / Your native language – whichever you find comfortable.

Please make sure your surrounding is as noiseless as possible while recording the video / the audio clip.

Whether to reveal your face or not, it’s entirely up to you. Proceed as you feel comfortable!

You can also record the audio and video separately, and adjust them to your liking.

It’s recommended that you submit the messages and wishes in the form of a video. If you find it inconvenient, you can also submit the audio and pictures in separate forms, and their editing team will create it into a montage. Or, of course, you can choose to create the montage yourself.

You can also send combinations of multiple videos or photos, there’s no limitation. As for what kind of photos, you’ll get the idea when you see the videos of the previous years!

Please DO NOT add BGM in your video.

–

–

[Submission Procedures and Precautions]

[SENDING METHOD]:

⊳ Email: lzy01130113@163.com (recommended)

⊳ QQ: 3443748771 (缚行)

—

ANNOTATIONS:

Please add your city (i.e. Shanghai / NYC etc.), the location you have shot the video (home /school / cafe) , and the contents info (as in pic/audio/video) – in the subject of the email.

If you have Weibo/QQ accounts, please add your Weibo ID Name / QQ account number in the content of the email.

Don’t forget to add your nickname!

–

–

[Submission Deadline]

November 10, 2022 (First Batch)

December 18, 2022 (Second Batch)

—

Good luck people!! 🥺❤️

—

[ridreamir]

*meows into existence*

You know those little Unown Pokémon in the shape of the Alphabet??? What if Ingo and Emmet (Hisui or Unova versions are up to you) have a S/O who speaks in “Unown” like it’s a second language (if that makes any sense).

You can certainly ignore/delete this request if you don’t want to.

Taking a break from the other requests to answer this one really quickly because I had some immediate ideas-- also apologies! I know I'm working slow, it's because I'm about to be sent on a last-minute trip! Before the pandemic and things happened, I used to be all over the place. This is the first time in about two years that I'll be back and forth again. (Will be in NYC by thursday-ish I think) Sorry for the long Authors Note, just wanted you all to know that I haven't abandoned you, I just literally had no prior notice. .

.

When it comes to the twins, you're actually quite in luck, given that most electronics optionally use the Unknown font in the modern-day, so when you're not feeling up for verbally communicating on any particular day, you can write things down on a separate notepad you keep with your Pokedex journal and they can read it without too many issues. It's not widely taught, but Unova is one of the places that still uses it.

This universe has no concept of English, but you're not quite sure what they officially call it, all you know is that before you learned to properly communicate, most people had a hard time understanding your "dialect". Written English vs. the unknown font isn't actually that different, so it really just looks like you're using your own font when you write things down. It took Laventon some time to get used to your handwriting, but he got the hang of it fairly quickly-- though virtually no one writes using the unknown font as it's considered an ancient language. Ingo and Emmet have very similar accents to yours, probably because their modern-day somewhat paralleled your own.

Unlike you, however, they had an easier time adjusting to Hisui because virtually every trainer learns the subtle differences in the regions' languages so they can adjust accordingly when traveling.

Sinnoh's modern-day dialect still sounds quite a bit like Hisui's save for some heavier foreign influences, or so they've told you. Though, when it comes to the inhabitants of Hisui, most people hardly know how to write, and if they do know how to write anything, it's usually just their name. Only recently has writing become a little more standard with the creation of the trainer school co-led by both Ingo and Emmet, funded by the Galaxy Team (and by association, you.) The youngest of students have already taken to passing shakily written notes during writing classes, and it's sort of cute. Sometimes either Ingo or Emmet will slide you a note as well, you've come to anticipate Emmet's cheeky grin as he does.

Ingo is definitely much more polite in whatever he writes and seems very innocent and well-mannered when you communicate through the written word. They both have very neat handwriting and have demonstrated that they can switch hands if they feel like it. That's just another one of their interestingly shared quirks. Not that you'd know this, but they keep everything you write to them in their desks within the Galaxy Team's Headquarters. Of course their offices are on opposite wings because they need to be kept away from each other or else it gets too noisy, but the classrooms themselves are in the basement floor of the building. Emmet is not allowed to have chalk. He just isn't.

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Memories of 2020 - A first look into all the content (OT7 as well as vmin and namjin)

As promised here’s my second post in which I just want us to have a look at some of the amazing content Memories of 2020 has in store for us. If you don’t want spoilers while you wait for your DVD (though I don’t know how anyone can hide from all the pictures and videos being posted everywhere) this post isn’t for you. If you want to have a look, than it’s very much for you. Truly there is so, so much here and everything I mention just scratches at the surface of it all. There’s more than eleven hours to go through after all!

From anon: Good luck for all the incoming questions regarding j*k*ok and their moment in memories - I think you know which one! I for one am enjoying all of the content and the love that each member has for the other, including vmin ofc. My favorite moment so far is definitely vmin kissing namjoon though - excited to hear about y'all's favorite moments :)

As I mentioned in my previous post, no worries anon, we barely got any and I already gave my opinion. As for our favorite moments, some of them are listed here along with other fun things, though I’ll admit, that forehead kiss was just so, so adorable. I mean, what other way is there to celebrate Namjoon’s birthday if not by kissing his forehead and squishing his cheeks?

One of the first things for the year were their practices for ON and Black Swan with the LAB dancers. We got a wider shot of Jimin helping Tae stretch, which we also previously got in their IG story last year, as well as Tae cutely asking Jimin to teach him how to do the cartwheel.

Furthermore we also saw Jimin practice his Black Swan solo dance which, what a surprise (not really), Tae was present for and (by the look of it) was filming him to show him later how it looks. I wonder if this was around the time when Tae wrote on weverse that Black Swan=Jimin. 

Then when filming the ON MV we got to see vmin dancing, the full version of what we originally saw in the teaser and contrary to what anons tried to suggest, as in that Tae wanted to remove Jimin’s hand, it was actually him moving Jimin’s hand so he could twirl him around and continue the dance further. Afterward Tae also repeats the dance with the little girl that starred in the MV alongside him so I wonder if this is when Tae introduced Jimin to her.

A lot more below the cut:

Then we saw some more of vmin being adorable at that one MOTS7 interview in NYC whereafter Jimin led Tae down the stairs while JK was behind them asking Tae if he was crying. The context here being that Tae was “sulking” because he didn’t get a chance to say the answers he’d prepared in English so, once downstairs, Jimin along with JK and Hobi (who was filming him much the way he did at the Grammys when a similar situation happened) encouraged him to at least show them his answers while Tae pretend cried and sulked some more.

Speaking of MOTS7, we also got some more behind the scenes of the jacket photoshoots which included vmin as dark angels and Jimin charming Tae while he was speaking, namjin making jokes about darks/ducks, and Tae and Seokjin looking stunning but we have an entire Bangtan Episode for that so I’ll save including a visual for this so I can include more pictures of other things instead. I hope you don’t mind.

We also had Jimin visiting Hobi and Yoongi on the sets of Interlude: Shadow and Outro: Ego which, judging by Jimin’s outfit, might’ve been filmed at the same time? Which, to be honest, makes a lot of sense. But the reactions were so different, as in Hobi was so happy and bubbly when Jimin came while Jimin “complained” that Yoongi barely even paid attention to the fact that he came. Their different dynamics are just so cute and interesting.

We also got so, so much content from the Daechwita MV filming, including a video of JK petting a chicken to the point that the chicken fell asleep. JK and animals, a very precious concept. Honestly I love this MV (the visuals are unreal) and the song so I’m glad we got to see more of the behind the scenes.

We also got plenty of Dynamite dance practice shenanigans like this:

Since we’re on the topic of dance practice, one thing that truly impressed me was Jimin’s core strength which we got a presentation of via him doing a headstand, as well as some gymnastics type looking something with JKs help. The control and strength he needed in order to lift himself up like that? Insane. Especially since he also lowered himself back down again in a controlled manner as well which makes it even more impressive. These men are so athletic, wow.

One of the moments I loved the most because it’s so meaningful and genuine is this one where they were filming their AMA performance and it was also the day of Tae’s grandma’s 70th birthday so, like the good boy he is, he decided to call/FaceTime her and Jimin joined him. From what I’ve seen Jimin used language showing that he’s familiar with her and it’s cute how natural this moment looks, like of course Jimin is there with Tae wishing his grandma a happy birthday. To be fair Seokjin also comes by and calls out a happy birthday but walks away just as quickly leaving just the two of them behind. Adorable.

Some more fun, random and cute stuff includes, but very much isn’t limited to, all of this:

Side note - Hobi singing You are my soulmate while vmin were practicing their Chingu performance? It really is his favorite song.

Honestly all the Seokjin and JK, as well as Hobi and JK content is so adorable and fun and there is so, so, so much more of it to be found and enjoyed than what I managed to include here. I’m glad we got to see so much more of their interactions across Memories of 2020 especially since they are the kinds of bonds that don’t get nearly enough attention most of the time which is a shame.

There were quite a few things included from their Esquire photoshoots but this moment with Namjoon, Tae and Hobi is just...wow. Love it. It’s one of my favorite moments and now also one of my favorite pictures of those three together. The fact that Tae was wearing a crop top for his solo pictures yet we didn’t get to see it (properly)? Wow.

From anon: Why is there so little Namjin in the memories of 2020 😞 I’ve seen so much from all the other pairings. It’s made me sad.

I don’t know who lied to you, dear anon, or who hid all the good stuff from you but rest assured we got plenty of wonderful namjin content, and this likely isn’t even all of it. 

Does Seokjin’s sweater say RM in hangul? Yes, it very much does. And is that Namjoon trying to stop Seokjin from walking away? Yes indeed. Much to think about.

And that’s about all I’m able to include without tumblr telling me I’m just doing too much. Like I said this is just basically a glimpse at all the content so everyone who ordered the Memories of 2020 DVD, there is plenty more for you to look forward to. Once I’ll be able to watch the full thing, I’m sure I’ll make more posts and if there’s something you’d like me to talk about or a moment you particularly enjoyed, let me know.

[weresodiscxnnected]

Relationships: Peter Parker/ Original Female Character

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Mentions of drug usage, vomiting (nothing graphic)

Word count: 6379

Notes: Hi everyone! This is a small psa about my updating. Starting from next week I'll start updating during weekends. I'm currently on a holiday and this goes up unedited, proofread only by Grammarly and me, a dyslexic who speaks English as their second language. I'll be doing more editing when I get back home to my laptop. Yes I posted this with my phone.

Link to the series Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Last night, a series of robberies took place all over New York. A group of criminals broke into three office buildings with high technology laboratories.” The lady in the morning news explains. CCTV footage of the robberies playing in the background. A group of hooded men with bags of stuff ran out of an office building into a black van before driving away.

Melissa stops scrolling TikTok and lifts her eyes from her phone. Putting the phone on the sofa next to Loki, who had peacefully snoozed there after getting his breakfast. Her attention was now entirely on the news playing in front of her.

“Luckily, Spiderman stopped the robbers, and all the culprits are now held in police custody until the investigation finishes.” The voice on tv announces, and Melissa lets out a deep sigh. The girl watches Spiderman fight with the robbers on TV, webbing two on the walls. Binding one down the floor after getting hit by the guy right on his face, and the last one he ties onto the front desk, the lights in the background start flashing red and blue, and Spiderman swings himself out of the building through a window just before the Police gets in. Of course, Spiderman was there, Melissa thought.

Loki sifts from sleeping in a tight roll to sleeping on his back with his paws and tummy up. Melissa smiled at the sight and grabbed her phone before sneaking a picture of the view. She envied the cat, not a single responsibility in the world or care. He didn’t have to go to work on his day off because of the happenings in the city last night; all his days were free. Melissa already knew what would happen; it would be Happy piping up to lift the security to the max; Pepper would try to calm him down because there weren’t any signs that they’d be in immediate threat but agree to raise the security levels. It happened every time there were bigger robberies regarding technology. She wasn’t directly working under security, so she didn’t know why she had to attend the meetings. Maybe they just wanted to skip the separate briefing for people down the line.

Melissa changes the channel before getting up from the sofa and walking to the kitchen. She grabs the biggest mug she can find from the cabinet. She places the ‘MILF, Man I love Frogs’ cup on the counter. While waiting for the coffee maker to finish, she drums her fingers against the cool porcelain.

Red numbers on a microwave read 8.30; she’d need to leave soon. Yawning, the girl pours herself a cup of coffee with oat milk.

She was starting to slouch back to the sofa when Peter emerged from his room, his brown curls pointing everywhere, wearing a white t-shirt that read I survived my trip to NYC with a yellow taxi. He looked tired. Different shades of purples and reds covered his right eye and cheek. Melissa stops her actions at sight.

“Is there coffee?” Peter asks, pointing at the coffee maker.

“What’s with the black eye” Melissa ignores Peter’s question. She draws a circle in the air pointing to Peter’s face.

“It’s nothing”, Peter shrugs, walking to the kitchen.

“It looks like you hugged the sidewalk with the right side of your face”, the girl points out, sitting on the sofa. Peter grabs a mug before pouring the last remaining coffee from the coffee pot. Turning off the coffee maker, he turns around to meet the questioning eyes of the girl sitting on the sofa. It was clear she wasn’t going to drop this topic anytime soon.

“I do martial arts; I went to practice after work, a couple of miscalculated steps, boom, there was a heel on my face. Nothing big” Peter gives the best lie he can come up with. The girl squints her eyes.

“They have a practice that late?” Melissa asks. Shit, Peter had forgotten entirely that he had told the girl that he was working a late-night shift.

“It was just my friend and me; we practice after-hours” Peter tries to save the situation.

“Okay, whatever you say, Karate-kid”, she drops the topic, seemingly believing Peter’s lie. Peter leans on the island, sipping his coffee, eyes fixed on the tv. It was yet another newscast about the robberies and Spiderman.

Ouch, how did I not see that one coming? Peter flinches when he sees the security camera footage from the office building on tv. Peter watches himself webbing the robbers and looking around the entrance hall before swinging out of the picture. He looks down at his phone; he is still waiting for texts from Ned or MJ asking about the news and more info on the robberies. It was a habit that didn’t die quickly. Instead of a flood of text messages, he was faced with a notification from uber eats telling him if he’d ordered now, he’d get 5 dollars off the breakfast items if he used 20 dollars. He swipes the notification away, and now he’s just staring at his lock screen where MJ looked over the city skyline on midtown high’s roof.

“Thanks to that, I need to go to the office on my day off”, Melissa groans, pointing at the tv where a picture of spiderman showed up on the screen and throwing her head back onto the backrest. Peter quickly tucks his phone back into his pocket and glances over the girl, confused, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Spiderman?”

“No, the robberies. Our head of security is going nuts. Apparently, they were too close to us” The girl sighs.

At that point, Peter realised that he still didn’t know what Melissa’s job was in the Stark industries. It wasn’t weird since they had been roommates for five days, but she knew what he did, so it was odd.

“You work with security?” Peter tries his luck.

“No, not directly.” Melissa shakes her head.

“So, what do you do then?” Peter shoots his shot. He had written the NDA, so it didn’t come to her not being able to tell him.

“Well, I think my official job title in the contract is a personal assistant. But I do more than that” The girl finishes her coffee and gets up from the sofa. She walks to the kitchen before she palaces the mug in the sink.

“Mrs Potts has two personal assistants?” It wasn’t surprising when Peter thought about how much work Pepper was doing, and Aida technically was secretary and not PA.

“Oh, I’m not Pepper’s PA; I’m Morgan’s. It’s just a fancy way to say that I’m a nanny.”

The realisation hit Peter like a bus; it took him an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots. The little girl from Times Square was Morgan Stark. Why didn’t he realise it earlier? On Saturday, they talked about trick or treating with Morgan, and he didn’t realise it back then. And when Peter thought about it even further, Melissa’s work schedule made even more sense. She worked afternoons and evenings; her work usually started when school ended, and depending on the day, she was back either before or after dinner. Or that was what she had told Peter when they had tried to decide on a moving day. The past week they had been leaving to work at the same time, but when Peter would get home, she was already in her room, and the apartment was quiet.

“For fucks sake”, the girl mumbles to her phone, pulling Peter out of his thought. Before Peter can say anything, the girl is already heading toward her room.

“I need to go; my ride is downstairs”, the girl announces before closing the door. Just minutes later, she comes back out wearing jeans and a jumper instead of Hello Kitty pyjama pants and an old One Direction shirt. She grabs her tote bag from the coat stand and slips her Vans on. She stops at the French doors leading into the apartment's main living area.

“It shouldn’t take long, but I think you’ll be off work when I get back.” Melissa’s eyes catch Peter’s.

“I need to leave in an hour, so…” Peter nods.

“Well, have a nice day at work and see you probably tomorrow since we’re going to that party later”, Melissa waves before disappearing into the hallway.

Peter turns to look at the cat lying on the sofa, still in a deep sleep. The lucky bastard didn’t need to work.

**************************

When Peter got home that evening, he was physically and emotionally tired. He had barely slept the night before. The customers were mad because they had run out of Halloween candy. Why was everyone forgetting Halloween and buying last-minute candy for trick or treaters? He had gotten yelled at by four different customers over the topic, and each time, he had politely instructed them to go to the nearest grocery store. He was done with customer service and shift work; he needed to find something where he could manage his hours. His workday’s only positive was that he only had a six-hour shift. He couldn’t wait to get inside and fall face down into his bed. After a nap, he could watch a movie since he was alone this evening.

But to Peter’s surprise, when he opens the apartment door, there’s music. The boy slowly steps in before kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat. The notes of Lizzo’s Juice fill the air, Melissa’s soft voice singing along. Peter thought she’d be out by now, like she said in the morning. The boy makes his way further into the dim apartment. Clearly, the girl was in her room. Peter greets Loki lounging in his cat tree in the hallway, earning a meow back. Peter wondered if he should announce himself being home or just quietly tiptoe into his room and go to bed. Announcing himself would only be polite since the girl probably thought she was alone. But just then, Melissa’s door opens.

“Peter! There you are. I tried to call!” Melissa’s head pops out from her room. Peter scrunches his eyebrows, pulling out his phone. Dead, he forgot to charge it before leaving.

“No battery,” Peter points to the phone.

“Oh, anyway, I tried to ask if it’s okay if my friends come for some pregaming before going to the party. We were supposed to go to Harry’s, but he got sick.” Melissa bats her eyelashes. Her brown eyes popped out even more with the green eyeshadow she was wearing, green rhinestones glued on the corners of her eyes. Peter notices she has only one fake lash strip glued down.

“Sure”, Peter flashes a small smile. There goes his sleep; he didn’t want to be a dick and say no after only living five days under the same roof.

“Great! Because they’ll be here in 15 minutes,” The girl says with a big grin before her head disappears back into her room. He should’ve guessed that there was a catch.

Peter walks into the kitchen and switches the lights on before grabbing an open bag of Doritos from the counter. He Jumps onto the sofa, grabs the remote from the table, and turns on the tv. Even if he didn’t have anything particular to watch, he planned to take everything out of the 15 minutes he could use the tv before Melissa’s friends were there. He is munching the Doritos when he stops the channel surfing, finding some random soap opera to watch. Sucked into trying to understand the plot, Peter jumps when the doorbell rings. Doritos flies out of the bag after the impact of his jumping. Cursing to himself, he swept the chips and crumbs off the sofa. From the corner of his eye, he sees Melissa run towards the door.

“I just need to change my clothes, and I’ll be there. Behave, don’t scare Peter.” He hears Melissa say from the hallway. Melissa is again running in the hallway, disappearing into her room. Peter looks at the door, and two figures emerge from the hallway. A young woman about Peter’s height and a much taller young man.

“So, you’re Peter,” says the girl walking into the kitchen with her bag. She’s dressed in a black long-sleeved latex bodysuit. Her black bob cut hair was slicked back, and she had a headband with cat ears on. “I’m Cindy”, the girl smiles before Peter can answer.

“Nice to meet you” Peter nods, smiling at the girl, and then looks at the boy.

“Right, sorry, Harley Keener.” The guy holds out his hand when plopping on the sofa next to Peter.

“Peter Parker” Peter shakes his hand.

“I don’t usually dress like this”, Harley laughs, pointing to his outfit. He was dressed in a black and red leather bodysuit with a matching leather jacket. And his costume was finished with a smudged black eyeliner and a blonde wig with black and red dip dye.

“Fits you, though”, Peter points out, making Cindy laugh and Harley thanks Peter with a wink.

Melissa walks out of her room wearing a green body laced with ivy leaves, lighter green tights underneath, and long gloves covering her arms with ivy leaves. She had a red wig that made the girl look like a natural redhead.

“Moon, zip me up”, she states, turning around, and her friend skips to close the zipper on her back. Peter looks at all three of them, and then it clicks.

“Batman villains?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow and looking at Melissa, who blushes.

“Harley wanted to be Harley Quinn; we just rolled from there”, Cindy explains.

“Pretty sure, it started with Harry wanting to be Batman”, Harley defends, holding his hands up.

“No, I remember this conversation in your living room Mr Keener, and it started with you and Harry trying to figure out costumes for the party because the theme is Heroes and Villains. And Cindy was joking that we could be Batman villains. Harry then announced that he wants to be Batman and you, Harley Quinn,” Melissa goes over, taking the drink Cindy was now offering her.

“Don’t throw me under the bus. I said we could be batman villains since everyone else is probably going as the Avengers; Harley and Harry just ran with it” Cindy rolls her eyes, throwing a bottle of beer to Harley.

“So what? And I look damn good as Harley Quinn.” Harley opens the bottle in a swift motion before taking a swing at it.

Melissa shakes her head, amused, telling Harley that he did, look good as a Harley Quinn, and maybe he could try to pull leather pants in the future. This makes Cindy almost choke as she bursts into laughter while drinking. Harley was burning red, trying to figure out some clever comeback but failing. Melissa sits in the armchair, and Cindy joins her, sitting on the ottoman in front of the chair.

Peter is not sure whether he should stay or go. In a way, he felt like he was crashing their friendly hang-out. When the three are in deep conversation over something Peter wasn’t paying attention to, he gets up, ready to escape into his room. But his escape is short-lived as Melissa stops him asking where he is going. When Peter says that he didn’t want to crash their hangout and that he was going to his room, the girl asks Peter to stay. Quietly Peter nods and sits back on the sofa.

Surprisingly, Peter found himself conversing about MIT with Harley after a while. The topic had risen when Cindy and Harley were bickering over different Universities. Cindy had graduated from Oxford and Harley from the Empire, but he had done a couple of extra online courses from MIT. The girls had distanced themselves from the boys’ conversation and made cocktails in the kitchen. It was good to note that their definition of cocktails was mixing vodka with whatever mixer they found in the cabinets and fridge. So far, they had Vodka with orange juice, ‘it’s a screwdriver. It’s a classic,’ Melissa had said when they had served their drinks to the boys sitting on the sofa. Then they had Vodka with rum and tequila topped with lemon juice and cola; they called it Long Island iced tea without half of the ingredients but the same amount of booze. At that point, Harley had accused them of trying to kill him, so they didn’t need to go to the party.

“He’s cute”, Cindy whispered to Melissa, who was squeezing lemon juice into her glass. Melissa lifts her eyes from her glass to Cindy and then to Peter. Peter had started to loosen up a bit after Melissa had made him drink the cocktails they made. He had a lazy crooked smile when he explained to Harley some engineering stuff Melissa didn’t understand. He was rambling at this point, talking with his hands, and Harley mimicked his actions while demonstrating something back. Peter’s cheeks were slightly red, and his black eye looked much better as it did that morning. He was good looking. Melissa couldn’t deny it, and now a bit tipsy and smiling, he looked even better than Melissa had realised.

“I guess he is”, Melissa admits after a while, taking the cranberry juice from her friend. Cindy nudges her friend, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend; I’ve seen his lock screen. The girl is gorgeous,” Melissa says quickly, knowing what her friend would say next. She knew that look; it was the ‘are you going to make a move’ look. Cindy’s face drops but soon turns into a devilish grin.

“Sooo…Threesome?” She smirks, and Melissa playfully smacks the girl’s head with the spoon she held.

“Manners, Moon!” Melissa shrieks, making the boys look at them.

“Melissa, why are you abusing Cindy?” Harley raises his eyebrow studying the giggling girls. They were tipsy, and they’d soon need to leave if they wanted to make it to the party.

“She was suggesting vulgar and inappropriate things for me,” Melissa gathered herself.

“Now I’m interested” Harley turns around on the sofa to view the girls better, “please tell me more”.

“I don’t think so,” Melissa shakes her head.

“Threesome”, Cindy says before running away from her friend, before she smacks her again.

“Yes, please, I thought you’d never ask,” Harley breathes out excitedly.

“For fucks sake, Keener. Keep it in your pants” Melissa rolls her eyes, grabbing her phone from the counter, “I’m ordering uber so we can get into that party, and I can lose you there and come home”.

“You wanna join us?” Harley asks Peter. Peter looks at the guy next to him, confused. Was he talking about the party or the threesome? Noticing Peter’s confusion, Harley clears, laughing that he means the party. Peter was still tired, and he didn’t have a good track record at parties. The few parties he went to MIT ended like every party he had attended in high school, with him needing to leave because something was happening, and Spiderman was required.

“Sure, but I don’t have a costume”, Peter finally agreed. It was probably the lack of food and the amount of alcohol in his system talking. He could use some new experiences and more alcohol. It had a nice numbing effect, which Peter could use to forget, well, everything he had felt since last year.

“I have Harry’s Batman costume,” Melissa says, lifting her attention from her phone to Peter. “I bought it because he was busy coming to shop with us”.

“Okay, I’m Batman” Peter gets up from the sofa, following Melissa into her room.

Moments later, their uber pulls in front of a big house in the suburbs. It was more a mansion than a house—people in costumes pooling on the front lawn. The house’s doors were wide open as the guests walked in and out. There were six avengers, two Captain Americas, one Black widow, one Iron man, and two Thors just a front yard alone. Cindy points out how she knew everyone would be the Avengers.

And Batman and his villains start to make their way into the house. Music blasts through the house, people mingle in the hallways holding red cups, dim neon lights, and a smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes and weed greets them when they step in.

Pushing their way through the intoxicated crowd, they reach the kitchen. The kitchen looks somewhat empty compared to the other rooms in the house. Just a group of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles having a conversation with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

That’s something you see every day, right? Melissa thinks. She grabs a can of something out of the cooler laid on the kitchen floor and leans into the kitchen counter. The huge kitchen island was covered with snacks, mixers, bottles and in the middle of everything, a giant water container filled with something orange. Her friends were still going through the coolers and everything else laid out for the guests to drink and eat. Melissa watches Cindy grab a red solo cup and pour a small amount of the orange liquid from the tap. She smells it first before taking a careful sip; she shrugs and fills her cup.

When everyone has chosen their drinks, Harley suggests they’d go to the living room where most people are. Taking over the only free corner of the room, pushed against the wall, Peter looks at the people around them. There are even more Avengers, only one Batman besides him, and a few unique picks like Super Mario and Luigi, Firemen and Nurses. Everyone had a different concept of a Hero. From villains, Peter spotted many Disney classics like Ursula, Maleficent, Scar and Jaffar, but there were also a few Lokis and one guy wearing a suit with a sign ‘government’ written on it.

“I swear to god if I’m getting groped by an Avenger tonight, I’m leaving, “Melissa mumbles on Peter’s left side.

“Only if it’s an Avenger? Everyone else is fine?” Harley peeps over Peter with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You are total Div Harley; you know that”, Melissa laughs, shaking her head.

“What, I’m just asking why you are so against Avengers?” Harley teases.

“I’d let that Hawkeye grope me anytime”, Cindy moans, her eyes fixed on the guy on the other side of the room.

“Pass,” both Melissa and Harley say simultaneously. Peter finds the guy they’re talking about and tilts his head like it would help him see better. The guy’s hair is spiked up with gel, speaking to Black Widow. He’d laugh generously when the girl said something to him, then caress her shoulder. Creepy.

“Yeah, I have to agree with them, Pass.” Peter nods, taking a sip from his beer.

This evolves them to play smash or pass, if the majority agreed and you didn’t, you’d need to drink, and if everyone agreed, everyone would need to drink; in fifty-fifty cases, no one drinks. One by one, they pick someone from the crowd. After twenty minutes, they weren’t even pointing out people in the party anymore but just saying random people that came into their mind.

They had gone through almost every real-life Avenger they could think of. Iron man or Tony Stark was a smash, even though Melissa thought it was weird since it was her boss’ late husband and Harley’s mentor. Peter had felt incredibly uncomfortable and passed him, saying he wasn’t into goatees. Black Widow was agreed smash, even though once again Melissa pointed out that it was weird to say something like that about a dead person. Everyone passed Rogers even though they agreed he was handsome but too patriotic for everyone’s taste. Barnes was fifty-fifty, boys passed, girls smashed. Instead, girls passed Thor, where boys would smash him. Wilson, Barton, Lang, all clear smashes from everyone. And Wanda would get a pass from Peter since he feared her.

“Banner”, Harley shoots.

“Smash,” Cindy says without hesitation.

Melissa snaps her head towards her friend on her left, “He’s your boss, Cindy. What the fuck?”.

“Would it be more like he smashes you?” Harley thinks out loud with a puzzling look on his face.

“No, Hulk smashes”, Peter answers matter of factly.

“I’m getting more booze. I’m too sober for this” Melissa rolls her eyes, pushing herself off the wall and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m coming with you”, Harley announces, following the girl, leaving Peter alone with Cindy.

Peter watches as Harley throws his arm over Melissa’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear, making the girl playfully nudge the boy away from her, but Harley takes a step further, his arm never leaving the girl’s shoulders.

“I swear to God. If they don’t admit they like each other soon, I need to take the matter into my own hands”, Cindy murmurs; she watched her two friends flirting in the kitchen. Harley’s arm was on Melissa’s lower back when the girl poured the punch for them. Melissa’s lingering fingers when she handed Harley his cup. They looked like a couple more than a couple of friends.

“Wait, they aren’t dating?” Peter asks, having to double-take what Cindy had just said.

“Nope, not officially. They’re doing all the couple things except sleeping with each other or anything intimate.” Cindy explains, crossing her arms on her chest and glancing over Peter.

“I see”, Peter hums.

When Melissa and Harley return, the group moves outside to the back terrace. The cold October night makes Melissa shiver since she’s the only one without long sleeves. Harley offers her the jacket he was wearing, already taking it off, but the girl stops him because Harley would get cold. She tells him that she’d manage; it wasn’t that cold; this makes the boy pull her closer to him, resting his hand on her waist. Peter sees Cindy roll her eyes behind their back, and Peter chuckles.

No one on the back terrace beside them. Most people were in the main house, or the pool shed that someone had turned into a hotbox. Sometimes someone would leave the shed, a cloud of smoke following them, and the herbal scent spread across the yard.

Harley hands his drink to Melissa and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering the others. Melissa and Peter both decline the offer, but Cindy takes one, placing it between her lips as Harley lights it.

This was new to Peter. He had never been to a party this long without needing to leave. He was enjoying himself with Melissa and her friends, and he was doing things he should’ve done back in High school or college. While he was enjoying himself, he couldn’t shake the guilty feeling inside of him that he should’ve done this with Ned and MJ. He was the one who ditched them because of Spiderman every time they’d do something like this. There had been a whole night without Spiderman, and his friends weren’t there with him.

“Spiderman,” Cindy says out of nowhere, making Peter tense up. Did she hear his thoughts? Why was she talking about Spiderman?

“Pass, we don’t know what he looks like under his mask. He could be like some 40-year-old creep” Melissa shrugs. Peter relaxes a bit when he realises that they are playing again.

“You’d smash hundred something super soldier and other older men, all over forty, but you draw the line for Spiderman.” Harley points out.

“I mean, rumour says that he was Tony’s intern, so he can’t be that old” Cindy takes a hit of her cigarette.

“We still don’t know what he looks like”, Melissa adds. This was awkward, Peter thought; what he was supposed to say? They were talking about him. Of course, they didn’t know it, but it made it worse. Melissa thinking that Peter, not Spiderman, was an old creep also hurt a bit.

“I don’t care, dude has ass, smash”, Harley declares, throwing the cigarette bud on the ground while blowing out the last smoke he was holding in his lungs. Peter’s face feels hot; somehow, this has turned even more awkward.

“Okay, what if he looked like that?” Cindy suggests pointing to a guy dressed as Spiderman walking away from the shed.

“Did you forget your contacts again? That’s Flash, dressed as Spiderman,” Melissa snorts.

Peter turns around to see no one else than Flash Thompson walking towards them with a big smile. He hadn’t seen him in over a year. After high school, Peter went to MIT and Flash Empire. They never were necessarily friends since Flash used to bully him during High School. But after their ways parted, they’d bumped into each other now and then when Peter was in New York. Those times he’d been tolerable, and some type of acquaintanceship had formed between them. Of course, when Peter turned out to be Spiderman, Flash went to tell everyone he went to high school with Spiderman, and they were best friends when it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

But it wasn’t Peter he was approaching.

“Harley!” He greeted loudly, grabbing Harley’s hand and tapping his back, “It’s nice to see you made it. Sucks for Harry, though; I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Yeah, he called me earlier today, barely could speak, pretty nasty flu apparently”, Harley explains. Flash’s eyes look at Cindy and Melissa, and a grin spreads on his face.

“I see you brought the ladies as well”, Flash smirks, but his face drops when he sees Peter. Peter feels his nerves rushing, he knows Flash won’t recognise him, yet he is scared if he does.

“And a new friend,” Flash says dryly, forcing a smile on his face. “Flash Thompson”, he simply nods.

“Peter Parker, Melissa’s roommate” Peter nods back.

“Parker, why does that sound familiar” he looks Peter up and down. But Flash drops the topic quickly, turning his attention back to Melissa.

“Nice to see you again Melissa” he takes the girl’s hand and presses a kiss on her knuckles.

“Eugene”, Melissa pulls her hand away, clearly not interested or enjoying Flash’s company. Peter was not surprised; Flash wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.

Flash quickly turns back to chatting with Harley guiding the group back inside. Harley and Flash disappear somewhere, leaving Peter, Melissa, and Cindy in the living room. The trio quickly reclaimed their corner where they stood earlier. Melissa cursed how slimy Flash was, explaining how they were at the party last year, and he kept telling everyone how he knew Spiderman and how he was Spiderman’s best friend, and Spiderman was going to come there. Peter remembers Flash asking him to go to his Halloween party last year, but Peter never showed up. The reasons were that he didn’t want to, he was avoiding publicity the best he could, and he was too busy with everything else happening in his life.

Cindy reminds Melissa about the jokes Flash made the whole evening and how she almost hit him when he got too handsy. Cindy had been buttercup, Harry Blossom, Melissa Bubbles, and Harley, the professor. Flash had to harass Melissa with ‘Can I blow bubbles tonight’ or ‘Can bubbles blow me instead’ jokes the whole night, and at the end of the evening, Melissa had had enough and almost punched Flash, but Harry got in the middle, announcing they’d go home.

“I love Harley and Harry to pieces, but their friends are questionable”, Melissa sighs, placing her head on Cindy’s shoulder.

“Do I need to remind you about your friends?” Cindy chuckles.

“Well, you’re my friend, so what does that say about you” Melissa reminds, yawning.

Melissa was tired; the meeting earlier had taken longer than she thought. There was more to the robberies than the media let people know. This meant everyone in Stark Industries was now on high alert and being investigated. She was pissed because the investigation meant more work for her. While she was mostly just Morgan’s nanny most of the time, she also helped the company with investigations; she had skills and previous work experience in that field. Sometimes she also helped Pepper and the legal team with contracts. She was like Stark industries own secret weapon. But doing those things lifted unwanted memories from the past, memories that she wanted to forget. Alcohol made her forget them, and that’s why she was glad about the stupid party because she had a reason to drink. The problem was that the exhaustion mixed with alcohol led to nausea.

“Cindy, I don’t feel so good”, she slurred against Cindy’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare to throw up there, Watson”, Cindy warns her friend, taking hold of her friend leaning against her. Peter looked down at the girl; she had started to sweat and was paler than before.

“We should go,” he says, but Cindy shakes her head.

“She’ll never make it home; we need to get her sober up before calling a ride. I’m not paying if she throws up in a car. We need to get her into the bathroom,” Cindy sighs, throwing Melissa’s arm over her shoulder. Cindy wraps her other hand over Melissa’s waist before starting to walk them toward the bathroom. The bathroom downstairs has a line, so they have no choice but to go upstairs. Peter helps to steady Melissa while they climb up the stairs. Somehow, they get to the bathroom door without any accidents.

Cindy almost kicks down the door when she finds out it’s locked.

“I know there’s someone. Hurry up!” She starts banging on the door. Peter holds Melissa tightly against him, afraid she’d fall if he let go. A clatter and cursing come behind the door before it opens, and very blushing Kim Possible walks out with equally red Luke Skywalker right behind her. They mumble apologies on their way downstairs.

Cindy holds the door open, waving Peter to get in with Melissa. They sit the girl on the ground next to the toilet. It doesn’t take long for Melissa to lean against the toilet bowl and empty the content of her stomach there. Peter turned his head away, hoping he could block out the noise as it was making him nauseous. On the other hand, Cindy sits on the bathtub’s edge, holding her best friend’s hair.

“I’m sorry”, Melissa breathes out, her head still in the toilet bowl.

“It’s okay, sweetie” Cindy rubs Melissa’s back with her free hand. “Have you eaten anything today?”.

“I had a bagel in the meeting, and when I got home, I ate carrots and hummus”, Melissa admits, lifting her head out and looking at her friend, flashing her a lazy smile.

“Peter, can you find her something to eat?” Cindy orders Peter, who is more than happy to leave the bathroom.

“Sure”, he nods, quickly disappearing out of the door.

“I want Harley. Where’s Harley?” Melissa whispers, resting her head against the cold toilet bowl. Cindy sighs and pushes Melissa’s hair behind her ear.

“I can go look for Harley, but you need to promise you won’t leave this bathroom or drown yourself in the toilet” Cindy smiles softly, and Melissa smiles, nodding her head ever so slightly.

After Cindy leaves, Melissa is left alone. She pushes herself off the toilet bowl and leans against the bathtub. How much had she been drinking? It was embarrassing; she couldn’t recall the last time she had been in such a situation. Her eyes burnt, her mouth felt dry, her throat felt smaller, and she could feel the tears rising.

You already vomited; you’re not crying. Get a grip, woman, she scolds herself in her mind. Slowly she gets up, hanging on to her dear life to vanity. Her legs were wobbly, but she could manage. The girl looked at herself in the mirror; lipstick was gone, mascara was smeared, and she looked like a hot mess. Grabbing a punch of toilet paper, she wipes the remaining lipstick off and runs her fingers under her eyes.

The doorknob turns, and Melissa’s head snaps towards the door, remembering it wasn’t locked.

“Occupied” Melissa yells, but the door opens anyway. In front of her stands Flash, his face in shock, but after realising who he is with, it turns into a grin. Just fucking great, just what I needed, Melissa curses.

“Well, well, well, we meet again”, The boy smirks, taking a step forward. Melissa lets go of the sink, hoping her legs will carry her without the support.

“So, it seems,” she says, taking a step back as the boy gets closer.

“I have to say, Poison Ivy, you’re giving me a rash that I can’t scratch”, He teases, stopping in front of the girl.

“I’d get that checked. It doesn’t sound normal”, Melissa advises realising she’s now cornered between Flash and the bathtub.

“I was hoping you could take a look,” he says, cocking his eyebrow.

Downstairs Peter is trying to find something to eat for Melissa. Something that would soak up the alcohol but not make her throw up again. He’s hysterically going through the snack table when he gets this unsettling feeling in his stomach, and shivers run through his spine. His Spidey senses were tingling. “Not now”, he mutters to himself. There’s a more substantial wave, and he Instinctively snaps his head towards the stairs. Melissa. He leaves everything he had gathered so far in his arms on the table and runs towards the stairs, meeting Cindy looking as worried as he is. They both look at each other confused but bolt upstairs.

The sight isn’t what they were waiting for, Flash holding himself on the ground, groaning and Melissa standing next to the guy cursing under her breath. Her focus moves from Flash to her friends. She was clearly sober now. Blowing hair out of her face as she steps over Flash and meets Peter and Cindy standing on top of the chairs.

“I think we should leave,” she says calmly, passing her friends and walking down the stairs. Both Peter and Cindy are still processing what they had just witnessed.

[thesecretofronance]

tagged by @hopelessronantics ! thank you :D

zodiac sign: capricorn

fave musicians: my top artists on spotify are currently pheobe bridgers, mitski, taylor swift and laufey which like yeah that checks out

fave sports team: don't watch a ton of sports but i like watching college football and professional baseball sometimes!

sports watched: football and baseball

other blogs: i've got a backup account but i haven't posted anything there

do i get asks: sometimes but not very often so feel free to send me some <3

following: 70 which isn't a lot i know but i have only had this blog for a few months

tumblr crushes??: not any really but all my mutuals seem very nice!

lucky number: i've always liked 17

what i'm wearing: t-shirt that says chicago in a wacky font and pyjama shorts

dream vacation: france or nyc!

dream car: idk jeeps seem pretty cool but anything that would keep me safe is fine

instruments: clarinet! also trying to learn either alto or tenor saxophone

languages: english and french

celebrity crush: i'm going to be real here for a second,, for the longest time I thought people had celebrity crushes as a joke 💀💀💀 but maya hawke is very cool of course, maya hawke our beloved<33

tagging: @pimplepogue and @lovelybuckley +plus anyone who wants to join! no pressure tho

[sideblog-666-thousand]

Euronymous Interview in Decibel of Death, ‘87. English Translation. Ft. Euronymous’ depraved torture fantasies involving Coca-Cola.

‘Decibel of Death’ was a French fanzine from the 80s. It’s first issue was released in ‘86, and by the summer of ‘87, it switched over from French to English-language. This has been my favourite interview of Euronymous for a long time now, so I decided I’d translate it to English so that other, non-francophone, people could enjoy it too. This issue in particular is from February of ‘87, and was their fourth issue overall.

I’ll add a link to where you can find this, and other D.O.D scans, below. If anybody wants me to translate more French, or Russian, interviews, feel free to PM me.

Note: NDLR is the editor’s notes. Any commentary or context by me will be in bold and in parenthesis, so feel free to totally ignore it. If something is between “« »” it’s because it was already written in English to begin with.

Disclaimer: if some of the sentences sound like the energizer bunny is hooked on an iv rig full of pure meth, don’t blame me, I did my best. Take it up with Euronymous himself. Also, I’m not excusing Euronymous’ poor behaviour, I’m just saying his poor behaviour is kind of entertaining.

Without further ado...

D.O.D: And once again, here’s Norwegian Mayhem. If you remember, we presented them to you back in the May issue of D.O.D. Since then, they released a new demo titled “Death Crush”!! Because of this event, we decided to ask the guitarist of this rather sinister band a few questions.

D.O.D: Okay, there’s been more than a few line-up changes in Mayhem. Can you tell us what the current one is?

Euro: Alright, there’s me on guitars, Manheim on battery, Necro-butcher on drums, and our session vocalist, Maniac.

D.O.D:  And what is the medium age of the group?

Euro: We are all 18 years old.

D.O.D: How long has Mayhem been around for?

Euro: Mayhem has been around since August of ‘84 with this line-up, before that, I played in another shitty metal group that was also called Mayhem. The other members also played in a crappy band before we all met.

D.O.D: How would you describe your music?

Euro: Ah, well, it’s like a wall of sound played at extreme speed all mixed with the sound of a chainsaw!!

D.O.D: In your opinion, who are the biggest posers on this planet?

Euro: That definitely has to be the Swedish group ‘Europe’. «Fuck them!!» I hate this band!!

D.O.D: Ha ha, what would you like to do to make them suffer?

(This is the exact moment where the interviewers realize that Euronymous is literally fucking insane. The editor censors some of the things Euronymous says because he has a very vulgar manner of speaking, so, brace yourselves. To make it abundantly clear— I didn’t censor any of this, if it was me, I’d let him continue swearing ‘til next year if he wanted to. Take it up with D.O.D!)

Euro: First of all, I’d cut them and make them eat their own (bleep)!! Then, I’ll fuck them in the ass with an empty bottle of Coke, and if they’re still alive somehow, I’ll drown them in their own piss!! (NDLR: I’d do the same to a few guys in Germany and Switzerland!!) But all of this is reserved for their guitarist, drummer and bassist, I have a far crueler torture for their singer, for him, I’m simply going to break his mirror and steal his perfume!! Haaaaafuckinghah!!! (NDLR: ahahahaha, this is so much fun!!)

D.O.D: Okay, Euronymous, onto more serious topics, who composes the most in Mayhem?

Euro: It’s me and Necro, but sometimes Manheim comes up with good riffs, he actually wrote most of P.F.A (Pure Fucking Armageddon)

D.O.D: I believe thrashers reacted pretty well to your first demo, right?

Euro: Despite the zero sound of this demo. It's true that it's actually the hardcore thrashers that appreciated it, although it was the others hating it that gave us an enormous promotion like with 'Metal Forces'.

D.O.D: Has there been groups that have influenced you?

Euro: Of course, early Venom has really inspired us, although we don’t sound like them in any way. We’re also influenced by bands like Hellhammer and Sodom.

D.O.D: Mayhem is a common band name, what do you think of other Mayhem (such as NYC Mayhem, Mayhem (WC), Mayhem (Oregon))?

Euro: NYC Mayhem* are excellent, I adore them! (NDLR: me too!!) and they call themselves NYC Mayhem. But as for the other Mayhems, they stink, «fuckin’ shit»,  like the Mayhem that’s on Metal Massacre VI*, they really stink, their music isn’t destructive like ours is at all, they don’t deserve this name, I hate them!!

D.O.D: I heard you guys played a show, how did that go?

Euro: It was really «cool», it was at a small rock festival that had around 3-400 «discofucks» (NDLR: this is the censored translation) and when we went on stage with our first session vocalist “Messiah”, we broke a bass over their mouths!! We gave these idiots hell!! Ha ha!! (I’ll link the show he’s referring to below)

D.O.D: And how did your other gigs go?

Euro: For now this has been our only show!! And we don’t know how the crowds will react at the prospect of future gigs.

D.O.D: Fair. Since we’re talking about future gigs, what will those be like?

Euro: They’ll be full of occult things, we’ll play in complete darkness and there’ll be red blood spots, chandeliers, smoke, and pig heads on stakes, it’ll be totally thrashing!!

D.O.D: How’s the Norwegian thrash scene? It’s pretty dull, no?

Euro: Right now, «it sucks», there’s no audience, but it seems to be going in the right direction with bands like Vomit*, Septic Cunts, Decay Lust, and Flowers in The Dustbin.

D.O.D: And what kind of things are your lyrics about?

Euro: depravity, like tearing someone’s (bleep), eating worms, and all those fine things!!

D.O.D: What are your favourite bands?

Euro: Really hard question, there’s so many good bands coming out but I think the bands I like the most are old Venom, Deathchamber, Sodom, Necrophagia, Destruction, Death, Kreator, Poison. (No, not THAT Poison)

D.O.D: Do you ever listen to hardcore?

Euro: «Yeah» I like Chaotic Discord, Septic Death, UK Subs, and others. It hasn’t been that long since I went to see Disorder and it was awesome!!

D.O.D: Are you considering going on tour?

Euro: No, not exactly. But soon we’ll play at a Norwegian thrash festival. We’ll also play at a thrash festival in Copenhagen, and probably do a few shows with Kreator/Necrophagia in ‘87.

(No, this isn’t a typo on my end, it actually says ‘87. There’s two reasons why this might be the case. One, it could be an error on the part of the editor, who deserves an interview of his own, or two, it could be an error by Euronymous himself since the interview might have been conducted in January. Euronymous could have mixed the years up as one sometimes does. However, ‘Death Crush’, the demo, actually came out in March of ‘87. What the interviewer and Euronymous are referring to as ‘Death Crush’ is likely ‘Death Rehearsal’, which is exactly what it sounds like, and was taped back January of ‘87.)

D.O.D: I heard you guys are recording a new demo, is it ready?

Euro: We just entered the studio to record the second “Death Crush” demo, but at the moment, we only have three songs. I’m also unsure of whether or not we’ll have enough money to record anything else, and the vocals still haven’t been put to music!!

D.O.D: There’s some rumours that you guys were contacted by certain record labels, is this true?

Euro: It’s true, we got a letter from Axe killer records saying that they were interested in us but they never listened to our music and I also sent them our demo tape but I don’t believe we’ll be receiving any letters from them now!!

D.O.D: Do you have anything to add?

Euro: Of course, «fucking ARGHHHH!!»

There, that’s all :)

If you’re interested in some of the asterisks I put in, here they are in order of their appearances:

*Unlike most of the bands Euronymous named in this interview, NYC Mayhem (and later as Straight Ahead) never released more than a few demo. They were a straight edge band from, you guessed it, NYC— Queens to be exact. Despite never releasing a full album, their sound inspired some grindcore and death metal bands, notably Carcass. They were also straight edge, which makes Euronymous’ mental breakdown over the Mayhem that was on Metal Massacre very, very ironic. Especially considering he was pretty straight edge himself, especially back in 1987– outside of maybe smoking some pot.

Here is their 1985 demo, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3geR1JbY4

*Metal Massacre is a series of compilation albums starting in 1982, released by Metal Blade records. Typically, these were independent and unsigned bands. Some notable ones include Metallica on the first edition with ‘Hit the lights’. Slayer in ‘83 with ‘Aggressive Perfector’. The ‘84 edition had Voivod, Overkill, and Hellhammer.

The one which Euronymous is referring to, however, is the one from ‘85. Here it is, the timestamp is 14:19 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HqwfsLvLvuY

It’s really not that bad— certainly not worth the double exclamation points.

*If you don’t know who Vomit are, you must not know much about early Mayhem. They were another thrash band who shared rehearsal space with Mayhem. Torben Grue and Kittil Kittilsen (what a sad fucking name) were also ‘in’ Mayhem at some point. Kittil once shaved off his eyebrow, but I don’t know why. Here is a picture of the dork:

The show Euronymous is talking about: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mjay2Lmj9C8 yes, this is the show where Euronymous flashes his ass. I think it’s funny because he talks big but he seemed very hesitant to do it, and practically ducked backstage afterwards. Necro, on the other hand, was very proud to have broken his bass.

Well, that’s all I have. If you read this far, I hope you enjoyed the additional notes I left. Outside of a few more interviews of Mayhem, I also have a few obscure Emperor interviews that were posted to the internet in late 90s. There’s an especially funny one where Faust is allowed to interview Ihsahn and Samoth from prison. He’s sarcastic the entire time, refers to the readers as ‘morons’ and proclaims everyone should all die in a nuclear war with the same energy you cross yourself with. Overall, it’s a funny read. I also have one where he interviews Varg, and Euronymous (separately) for his own ‘zine back in the early 90s. Actually— I have A LOT of interviews of Faust for some reason, including two where he’s actually on camera. I might post them if I feel like it, or if somebody wants them. Is anyone here an especially big fan of Faust?

Last but not least, here is the link to the ‘zine:

http://france.metal.museum.free.fr/revues/fanzines/decibel_of_death/04/page_03.htm

[moosoobi]

Revelation

In the night: Chapter 1

T.Jeffy- Hamilton: the musical

Thomas’s interest in Y/N pulls him into a position he was previously blind to. They say every girl’s another mystery, but definitely not like this. Buckle your seatbelt Tommy, you’re in for a ride

Finally finished the first part of ITN (which is ironic since the moment I wrote this message I still haven’t finished it). I really hope I’m able to bring this story to life the way I want to and I hope y’all enjoy 😔💕. Here’s some stuff to expect:

Told from Thomas’s POV

Modern Au

College talk even though I’m literally in my second year of high school (so please bear with me) 

Ruh roh moments

Sorta weird POV/storytelling (I’m new to writing fics and stuff so this is definitely a learning opportunity) Also excuse my English errors: Though this is my only language, my school system seemed to fail in teaching me how to write

Word count: 6.7k (including separators) 

2 DISCLAIMERS:

TW: itty bitty angst, themes of injury/blood, etc. 

I’m not the best story writer, so after reading this chapter you may have many questions. Please keep in mind that this is one chapter out of (about) 10. Things that you may not understand in this chapter will most likely be explained in future chapters.

-Now Playing: In The Night by The Weeknd-

My God, she’s perfect 

     The way the sunlight reflects off of her glass skin. The sincerity in every word, every letter that she writes with her only pencil. To be that flawless, it’s a mystery to me. She takes a glance at me. Did she feel me staring? I duck down my head in embarrassment. 

“Jefferson, you oughta put that scholarship to good use”

     Professor Washington boomed to the entire class. I hear a fragment of her giggle. Her laugh is soft and naïve. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her happiness.

     Washington is right, though. It's my first semester after I came back from my student exchange program over in France and I can already feel my sanity slipping. France was a beauty to visit, so many customs and cultures I wish I could be flourished in right now. 

     But there was one thing great about going to school in New York: I get to sit in a classroom with Y/N L/N. 

     I’ve never talked to her formally, at least not yet. She’s always sitting alone, never answers any questions, but Professor Washington makes the class acknowledge her perfect test scores and fascinating interpretations 

     As the bell rings I watch her stand swiftly. Is she in a rush? I can't help but watch as her hair is flung over her shoulder. She stuffs her notebooks and singular pencil into her burgundy-magenta backpack. Hey, at least she has good taste in color. 

I don’t think you understand

     She sits alone everyday during lunch, yet she never looks bothered. Her energy is so compelling to me. A feeling about her that I cannot comprehend, something that feels greater than my existence. I just got to know. 

“Thomas, you gotta work on staring at people less noticeable” James catches my attention by pointing his fork a little too close to my face. 

      I was staring? Again?

     I shake my head to snap back to reality

“The great Thomas Jefferson is interested in someone for longer than 30 seconds. I gonna be honest with you Thom, that’s impressing”

     I hear James laugh as he violently stabs a few pieces of pasta onto his fork. 

     James has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We went to the same middle and high school down in Virginia, and just coincidentally ended up going to the same college in New York. 

     We’re always there for each other. I remember cheering for him at a high school assembly after he won a story writing challenge, he’s such a nerd. Then again, he had to drive me home a couple of times after I failed multiple driving tests.

     Back in high school, James was the Chess Club Champion, a title he always shoved down my throat. It’s no secret why, though. He’s really good at thinking things through, While I on the other hand tend to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“Shut it James” I sarcastically retort, taking a sip of the expensive chocolate milk which my scholarship supposedly pays for 

Hey, can I sit here?

     I talked to her during class. Her voice is angelic: Now, I’m not one to be religious and all, but that voice could get me on my knees praying for forgiveness. My ego couldn’t get me anywhere at all, as if she already knew my tactics, she knew my flirts, and how? I guess it just adds to her mystery.

“C'mon! that one works every time!” I whine

“Don't be so full of yourself Jefferson, I’ve heard them all before” A smile danced across her face

     She did, however, laugh at some of my remarks. It's good to know that she has a sense of humor. My jokes of Professor Washington’s shiny, bald head. The jokes of Professor Washington’s assistant, John Adams, who’s suspiciously absent considering he signed up for this job.

     Heck, I would even make fun of myself if it meant I got to hear that graceful laugh one more time- actually, that might be a little too far.

     Many days of giggling in class came after that day. I can see her starting to open up to my friends and I, like she’s spreading her wings and showing us the greatness that lies behind the social wall that she put up years ago. Even when we got in trouble for a little too much giggling in the back of the class, I sacrificed my own pride so she didn’t have to. Yes, I, Thee Thomas Jefferson, did that. 

---

     Even though I could see the social wall she put up, I knew one day Y/n would fall for my charming pick up lines, or maybe I just happened to have a lucky day:

“Y/N I need some a some help with my math homework” 

     Y/N glances over to me in concern. I fake a scared expression.

“Quick!” I swiftly grab her shoulder and shake her “What’s your phone number?”

     She playfully smacks my arm

---

     Obtaining her number felt like a rite of passage, like I’m important to her, like she wants me in her life. I couldn’t stop smiling that day, and of course James just had to make a comment on it. 

“Thomas, if you keep smiling like that I’m going to start thinking that your sick or something”

      James said as he shut my laptop, tired of waiting for me to pack my things.

“Now that's REAL ironic coming from you, James” 

      I raised an eyebrow as my laugh begins to come up my throat. I take my closed laptop and shove it somewhere into my backpack.

“Okay, leaving for a month in sophomore year just because of a little fever doesn’t make ‘being sick’ as part of my trade mark” 

     James playfully smacked the back of my head. Thankfully, my curls serve as protection, not just to make me sinfully handsome. James and I walk out of the freezing lecture hall and were hit with the crisp-coldness of New York.

     To the right of me I catch a glimpse of that eye catching burgundy-magenta backpack as it’s thrown into the trunk of a shiny, expensive car. My feet keep its motion as my head turns to see Y/N standing at the door of the car. 

“Yo, is that Y/N?” I hear James whisper behind me “and who’s that?” 

     My attention is suddenly drawn to the tall man walking around the car to open her door. His curly hair is pulled into a small bun and the smile he had on his face broke apart the stubble on his jaw. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. 

“I’m just as clueless as you are”

     Keeping my glance on Y/N and the man, I watch as the man opens the door for her. My stomach turns as I watch Y/N smile back at him as she sits in the car. 

     For a split second, I swear I saw her shoot a soft glance at me. My feet almost stop in their tracks before I feel James’ hand yank me onto another pathway. 

“I’m all for you being head over heels, but we’re gonna be late to our study session with Angie” 

     Reality starts to set back into my head. 

“Right, lets dip.” 

---

“So little Tommy is Infatuated with this woman?”

     Angie’s eyes are piercing, and her luscious hair frames her face in a saintly manner. She slips off her baby pink coat to ease into her library seat. Her eyebrow raises as she takes a sip of her steaming coffee

     Of course James wouldn’t shut his mouth, especially around the notorious Angelica Schuyler.

     Angie’s pretty popular here, I find myself wondering why she has so many connections, yet it’s not just any reason(s) why she seems to be in the spotlight.

     1: She’s the oldest Schuyler. Her last name definitely got her places, not like I’m one to talk. Everyone seems to know her, not just at school, but all around New York City, and with her 5,000 Instagram followers, her first name’s starting to catch up with her last name in popularity

     2: Angie’s Daddy has money money. And that’s no secret when she decides to walk around campus with her designer handbags and shoes. I tend to think she always gets what she wants, but I know deep down, she’s never gonna be satisfied. Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth

     And finally,

     3: Miss Schuyler here is Bold. She’s never afraid to put both me and James in our place. It’s almost as if she can’t be touched by anyone’s thoughts of her, then again the gossip in NYC is terribly insidious. With such grace and respect, Angelica is not afraid to throw your opinion into the ground.

“Yeah I swear, Jefferson would’ve gotten run over if I didn’t pull him onto the pathway” James attempted to tone down his laugh so the librarian wouldn’t stab him with those old, sharp eyes

“She-...”

For the first time, I didn’t know how to recoil

 “..Just caught me off guard.”. In an attempt to change the topic, I flipped through the pages of his textbook. 

Angelica and James shared an astonished glance at Thomas before looking at each other. I could hear James shrug and flipping open his textbook. I lift my head as I hear Angelica dig through her bag

“Alright let’s get started” Angie claps her hands together with determination

—-

     It’s been 2 hours of studying in the ghostly library. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid the talk forever.

“Hey Thomas, why don’t you invite her to our next study session?”

     Angelica smirked as she rudely shut my laptop. I desperately imagine the day where both James and Angelica leave me alone. I angrily glare up at her, but she has a good idea

“Actually, that’s not to bad of an idea” I ponder for a moment before retrieving my phone from my pocket

Thomas: Hey Y/N, u free this week?

     Hmm. Is this okay? Nah it’s too straight forward. I sigh as I deleted and retyped the message

Thomas: Greetings Ms. L/N, this is Mr. Jefferson from class. Would you delight me by partaking in a study session? 

What the heck Jefferson? I began to get frustrated from this nonsense. It’s just a text, why am I getting so anal over it?

Thomas: Hey Y/N, ds@insdas/19z7dnesdc-

     Angelica, who was watching me the entire time, snatched the phone from my hands. I attempted to protest, yet Angelica Schuyler knows how to hold her ground.

“Angie wh-” 

“I’ll do you a favor, Jefferson.” She said sternly. There was no way I was getting that phone back, heck, I would be lucky if I got it back in one piece

“Aaaaand sent!” I heard her squeal 

     Angelica suddenly tossed the phone to me and I fumbled it between my hands before I held it stably. I check to see the text that Angelica sent from my phone

Thomas: Hey this is Thomas from class, wanna come study with us at the library sometime?

Oh. It was that easy.

“Thanks Angie”

I shove my phone back in my pocket. Part of me was excited to have an excuse to text Y/N, yet I do wonder how awkward it would be if she rejected the offer. I mean, she already has the perfect grades, why would she need the extra help?

I start to rethink my decision.

—-

     It wasn’t until 11 pm at night until I got a reply from Y/N. Beforehand, I arrived at my apartment around 8 pm. As soon as my door shut, the room was filled with growls indicating my current problem: hunger. That could only be solved with one solution: microwavable mac and cheese. 

     My phone dinged while I was laying motionless on my bed. My apartment was right next to the street, and all I could hear was the busy streets of New York City.

     My eyes opened as I turned to my charging phone. 

Y/N: yeah I’m down :) just send a time and place and I’ll be on my way

     I was filled with joy, so much that I couldn’t wait another second to reply. 

Thomas: Alright, we meet at the library after our class. Can you make it? 

     Seeing the three dots jump melodically made my stomach feel as if two fairies were dancing throughout my body. Any second now, any second. ding!

Y/N: sounds good!

     I guess it’s settled, I get to hang out with the puzzling Y/N L/N, and maybe I’ll get to learn a bit more about her. But just because it’s a study session doesn’t mean I can’t show her what a southern gentleman looks like, and for the first time, I’m so excited to study

---

     James, Y/N, and I walk out of professor Washington’s class, laughing our asses off over some stupid joke. Everyone around us appears to be annoyed, especially with having to sit through almost two hours of my friends and I laughing in the back of the class, but it’s not like I care.

     Once we’re hit by the bitter cold of New York, my eyes are immediately drawn to that expensive car. So familiar and so faint in head, the memory of Y/N smiling as she hopped into his car replays in my brain.

“I’ll be back guys”

     Y/N excuses herself from the group before lightly jogging to the car. Her hair was graceful in the wind, and her burgundy-magenta backpack didn’t seem to weigh her down at all. For a split second, my brain acknowledges that mysterious man in the driver’s seat. There was a moment of awkward eye contact with him, his cold eyes pierced through me before my attention was drawn back to Y/N. She fixes her hair and jacket.

That was cute.

What?

     James and I watch Y/N before turning to each other. I suggest to James that we wait for her, show a little southern hospitality. Even though Y/N seems to be fond of this man, he gives off a mysterious vibe similar to Y/N’s, but I do not want to unravel that mystery at all.

     Seeing him throw a smirk at Y/N causes discomfort in my stomach. 

     Y/N comes prancing back to us, an embarrassed smile on her face. Behind her, that shiny, expensive car begins to drive away.

“My bad, I forgot to tell my roommate that I would be out late”

“That’s your roommate?” James asks, attempting to hide his curiosity and shock

“and he takes you home after class?” I interrupt briefly

Y/N nervously laughs before nodding “something like that, he just..”

     That pause was a little too long

“..doesn’t like me out of the house too late so he volunteers to drive me home all the time”

     I shrug it off before jumping at the feeling of James’ warm hands pulling Y/N and I to the direction of the library. Y/N and I look at him with confusion

“What? Angie doesn’t like when we’re late, remember?” James says, practically dragging us to the Library

—-

“Nice to meet you”

     Angelica and Y/N got along pretty well. I can tell Angie was happy to finally have a girl to hangout with rather than having to deal with me and James only. She’s already starting to resemble a sisterly figure to Y/N, then again, growing up with two sisters must’ve prepared Angie for this moment.

     I don’t hear much about the other Schuylers, but I am familiar with them. Angelica is the oldest, as we know. Her first sister, Eliza Sch- I’m pretty sure she got married, is the nicest person you’ll meet. Whoever won her surely must be worthy, because we all know people like me wouldn’t get anywhere near Eliza thanks to her older sister. Her youngest sister, Margarita Peggy Schuyler, is just like Angelica.

     Stubborn. As. Fuck.

     I’m confident that Angelica has taught her that philosophy since she was born. Anyway, Peggy is currently living her dreams in Southern California. Not sure what she does, but I’m sure she’s financially stable, she is a Schuyler after all.

     All of us struggle to not annoy the librarian, let alone the entire library. I watch as Y/N opens up, just a little more, to Angelica, James, and I.

     Hours pass as we clown around in the library. From actually completing class work to a small drawing competition between James and I, I was certainly having a good time, and so was everyone else.

     It was pleasing to see Y/N more laid back rather than how she acts in class. In front of Professor Washington she’s so ‘put together’ and organized, but surrounded by her friends she’s such an amazing person, her range in professionalism and humor is astounding.

     I can’t seem to ignore the fact that Angelica notices the way I look at Y/N. It’s definitely not in my strong suit to be ‘low key’, I’m known for dramatic entrances and stealing the spotlight. She smiles when I make eye contact with her, and I’m pretty sure it’s just her way of annoying me, but I can’t help the way I look at Y/N. She really is an angel sent down from heaven, disguised as a college student, and I’m just lucky enough to be her friend.

     I’m blind to her flaws. When I see her, I feel like a tourist glancing at the Mona Lisa, memorizing every curve of her face, the way her hair falls around her shoulders, and the way the library lighting reflects off of her glowing skin.

     What felt like a sledgehammer breaking a slab of fragile glass, I see Y/N’s phone light up. Even across the table I can read the word “Lafayette” off of her phone. I can’t lie, it surely sounds familiar.

     When she finally noticed her phone flash on, I feel her ease turn into worry, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by James, Angie, and I. She starts to pack away her books

“My bad guys, I really gotta go”

     Y/N said notably panicking. Her phone flashes once again, yet the only thing that seems to catch my eyes is the bold “7:30” spread across the top of her phone.

“Are you okay by yourself?” I asked, trying my best not to pry into her business

“Yeah, my roommates here to pick me up, I don’t want to make him wait” she tried to play it off, but I’m learning to see right through her

“Alright, see you next time Y/N” I shrug it off

     She sends my friends and I a quick smile before replying

“for sure”

     Angelica and James got back to work without saying a word, and I could tell they were waiting until she was gone to start teasing me. I eased back into my chair before flipping the pages of my notebook

     I watched as she shoved open the library door and disappeared into the darkness. She’s such a mystery, when I feel like she’s opening up, she just shuts the door and we’re back at square one. Though I do claim to love a good challenge, Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

—-

     And that’s when it started. It wasn’t just one time where 7:30 was Y/N magic number, oh no, it was oddly consistent. I’m convinced that Y/N is some variation of Cinderella; her polite attitude and the beautiful little things she does without acknowledging it all vanish when the clock strikes 8:00, but that’s just one of many theories made by James.

     Another study session with James and Angelica, and Y/N’s flashing screen still compelled Y/N to leave the library without a trace. On some occasions we don’t even notice her escape, we just turn to see her seat empty and feel the faint wind from outside as the library door slowly closes.

     One day Angie bought us all tickets to see the preview to the newest, scariest movie I’ve ever watched. I was accompanied by Y/N, James, and Angie, yet their presences made it worse. Halfway through the bucket of popcorn and the movie, Y/N suddenly stood up and left after saying those 5 words. Before she left, I felt the warmth of her hands leave the place on my arm.

I never knew how addicting her warmth would be until it was already gone.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go” The weak smile on her face instantly resonated feelings of sympathy and understanding.

     From then on, Y/N and I grew closer as friends. We’d fool around at a local park before heading to campus, obviously sparking a few observations and remarks from James. I’d invite her to fancy dinners, or maybe even a small festival down the road from my apartment, yet her response would always be proven false at the moment she’d leave me and my thoughts at 7:30.

     But that hasn’t stopped me from attempting to hang out with her. Even on the days I wouldn’t have class with her we’d go out and get ice cream, study at the park, I guess you can say we’ve gone on a few ‘dates’ since our initial study session.

     Whenever we’re apart, I can feel every second expanding to its maximum capacity of time. I wouldn’t see her for a day and it will already feel like years since I’ve seen her. The days I do see her, time seems to maneuver a little too fast. When I recall hanging out with Y/N, all I can imagine is the feeling of floating above the clouds every time she and I made physical contact. Like a rock being dropped into still water, ever touch ripples throughout my body, sending shivers down my spine.

Truly incredible.

—-

     She doesn’t like to talk about her personal life, and I find that quite odd. I’m usually one to continue rambling every detail of every trait of mine, yet I find myself yearning to learn more about her. 

     We text every now and then when we’re outside of class, a little more to be considered ‘just friends’. There’s always a story which unravels just a little more of Y/N’s past, and she’s left me on my own to connect the dots. I must say, she’s definitely an interesting gal, but I know there’s more to discover. 

     She’s a native New Yorker, born and raised, surviving by splitting an intense rent with her mysterious room mate. Y/N doesn’t talk much of her family, other than faint memories of her mother single handedly raising her and her little brother, who I’m fairly unaware of.

     Going into college undecided, Y/N describes her want to learn more about herself before she’s able to make any life determining choices. I’ve noticed that her schedule seems like a labyrinth avoiding life problems and obstacles, so perhaps being placed in the same class coincidentally was just fate playing its part.

     Y/N loves to explain her dream for workless weekends, moments in the week where she just gets to sit back, close her eyes, and breathe a little. With finals starting to appear from thin air, I can’t blame her for a dream so far from reality.

     Even with the knowledge I hold of her, something never seems to change: her disappearances at 7:30.

It’s always that damn 7:30.

     7:30--the cliffhanger your favorite show leaves you desiring for more

     the end of a fun night of laughter and glee, wishing it lasted just a little longer 

     the off-set energy in a room when those around you know something you don’t. 

     As days, weeks, and months pass since my first text proposal to hang out at the library, Y/N and I become a little closer than just friends. It’s been obvious, especially to James and Angie, that Y/N is more than capable of holding my attention.

     Though James is worried that Y/N will just become ‘another girl’ to me, concerning my tomcat nature in the past, he can see the potential I see in her. I find myself wishing I did spend more time with her, maybe I just need to make a better effort.

     I’ll prove James and Angie wrong. 

     Filled with determination and confidence, in the midst of my silent room, I whip out my phone and direct my attention towards forming a text message for Y/N

Thomas: let’s get coffee sometime?

     Jefferson charm, don’t fail me now.

---

     Before I knew it, Y/N and I were feasting on exotic cheeses and aged wine in my New York apartment. I hit play on a random romcom which helps to fill the emptiness in my apartment and ironically the thin space between Y/N and I. 

     I have no idea how to make my move. Though I’m not aware of my competition, I imagine if Y/N could attract someone of My caliber, I should be well aware of the things she’s capable of. Originally I planned to court her-- I know, I know, I’m a man of tradition--yet after James caught on to my recognizable frustration, He suggested I go for it. 

     This is surprising on multiple occasions, especially since James possesses the ‘brains’ between the both of us. Being the chess club champion, ‘talk’ won’t aid you when you're struggling in a chess match. Just like how he meticulously plays chess, he examines my situation and provides his Virginian insight, or so he prefers to call it, and they always proceed the way his scheme describes. 

     I’ve adhered his advice to my life ever since we were kids, and when I didn’t, he’d simply reply with: 

“I told you so” 

     His smug smirk accompanied with a finger pointing to his temple would soon transform from clever to annoying. 

     I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Well, of course it’s not Y/N texting so must I really answer it? I pull out my phone despite my doubts and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

James: 👍

Speak of the Devil.

     But enough about James. I understand that both Y/N and I are mature college students, yet I still fear the disruption in our friendship I can provoke just by making my move. I’ve gotten this far; If she wasn’t interesting I’m sure she would’ve rejected me sooner. 

     She’s different, she’s unique, something about her that I just can’t place, but also something missing. Anyway, this is probably my best chance at shooting my shot at Y/N, and it’s too late now to back down. 

     As my lips part in an attempt to speak and make a move, Y/N’s motionless phone (currently laying undisturbed on my coffee table) suddenly brightens with the most obnoxious ringtone I’ve ever heard. The words “It’s 7:30!” flash on her screen, almost as if it was warning her rather than reminding her. 

“Y/N—” my eyes follow her body as she swiftly stands up

“I gotta g—” I watch as she attempts to grab her purse, yet her body is limited when I firmly grab her arm. She looks back to me with tiredness in her eyes.

     Part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Cinderella here wouldn’t have a curfew. That I somehow would be the exemption to this consistent confusion . But you can only daydream so far into the day until you’re pulled back into your reality

     Her entire demeanor seems like it was reconstructed after her alarm went off. Moments ago she was just enjoying tasty cheese and cheesy movies, and the worst part is, I have no idea why.

“Let me speak, darlin’”

     I stand up to avoid the way her eyes look down on me. I can’t stand that pitiful glare; she looks at me as if I’m a child incapable of understanding her situation, but she’s too stubborn to let me know. I’d be wise to use this time to make a move on different circumstances.

“Now, you’re always leaving at seven thirty..”

     Her sigh is almost enough to interrupt me

“..why’s that? Talk to me.”

     I maintain my eye contact before it’s abruptly broken. She looks everywhere but my eyes, and I wonder where in my apartment she would find an excuse, yet still manages to dodge the question.

“..you wouldn’t understand..” she scoffs almost intentionally, honestly scratching a part of my ego. I hate to admit she’s right, I really don’t understand what’s going on.

     I cock my head to the side. Where’s this coming from?

“Darlin’, I’m sure I’m a very understanding person—”

“—I need to leave”

     I could tell by the look of her face that she wasn’t trying to argue, but it’s inevitable.

“Why can’t you just tell me?..” I put my hands up as a sign of defeat, but I’m not giving up yet. “We’ve been friends for a while and you’re always leavin’ at seven—”

“I know! I know..” she removes my hand from her arm, clearly refusing to look up at me.

“Let’s just say..I got a job..?”

     Oh. That’s what this is all about? A job? She couldn’t spare at least an explanation for a part time gig?

“See? That wasn’t so hard”

“It’s..really embarrassing..” The glance she takes around the room makes me wonder if she’s really telling the truth. it’s not really my place to speculate, there’s no going back from this.

“It’s alright, it’s just a job after all” I claim, trying to get this conversation back on track

“This is exactly what I meant but ‘you wouldn’t understand’”

Huh?

“You don’t know what it feels like to have your life rely on minimum wage—” she sounds like she’s holding something back.

“Y/N wher—”

“A-and here you are makin’ me late for work” her eyes appear on the verge of crying.

“darlin’ look..”

“God, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life!”

Silence.

     Both of us refuse to speak. Y/N phone, still on the table, chimes again. “7:35” it said on its bright screen.

“Is that really how you feel?..” I take a step back to give her space. She still refuses to look at me.

     There’s no way she’d cause all this chaos just because of a job. And even if she believes I’ve piggy backed off of my name for my entire life, why would it matter to her?

“I..I should leave” before I could process what just happened, she swiftly tosses her phone into her bag and heads for the door.

“Y’know, I had a nice time..” was all I heard before the harsh shutting of my apartment door.

     And that was the end of it.

     My first thought after the door shut wasn’t to whip out my phone and attempt to text her, it certainly wasn’t to call James and inform him of his miscalculation, but instead to attend to the matter at hand. This cheese and wine won’t clean itself.

     And the night continued normally, as if nothing had ever taken place. I couldn’t help but microwave another cup of Mac and cheese to cope with what Y/N said. Nothin’ like a good meal to divert your attention away from your problems. But even a good cup of cheese and pasta can’t stop me from thinking’: 

Is that all I am to her?

A southern snob incapable of functioning without their father’s last name?

     After an introspective shower, and a few episodes of a random Netflix show, I’m finally alone with my thoughts and feelings. I lie in darkness, tussling and turning at every occasion, unable to extract her words from my mind. 

     If there’s someone whose opinion I care about the most, it’s Y/N L/N. I consider texting her at this very moment, yet I’m sure that I’m the last person she wants to talk to. The weight of my actions falls heavily onto my shoulders every minute, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Give her space, Jefferson, and maybe you’ll be able to fix this tragedy. 

---

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     The knocks on my apartment door were enough to jerk my body back to consciousness. Sadly pulled from the warmth of my dreams, I’m hit with the cold, noisy reality of an average night here in New York.

Can my day get any worse?

     Coming straight from the depths of slumber, I take a few minutes to process reality. Maybe the knocks were in my head. Did I dream about someone knocking on my door? Perhaps it’s

The sun’s still not up yet, why am I?

     Groggily sitting up, I decide to check the time, yet it takes me multiple attempts to grab my phone in the dark before I catch a sight of the time.

2 am?!

     Who is so out of their minds so show up to my apartment at this time? Who do I know that would show up at this time?

James is too sensible for that,

Angie would never waste her time on me, for whatever reason,

And Y/N—

well.

I don’t know our circumstances right now.

     I debate whether or not I should answer the door. Perhaps it’s just rock that happened to hit the door of my apartment, and even if it is a person, I’m not aware of anyone so mad to show up in the middle of the night. it’s not worth my time.  

...

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

     So much for ‘Not worth my time’. A groan is all my body can respond with while I gradually stand from the comfort of my bed. I grab the nearest shirt, which was draped over my desk chair, and scramble to put it on. Passing my cramped kitchen, my hands subconsciously flip on the nearest light switches, while my eyes struggle to comprehend the sudden light. 

     Before I reach the door, I couldn’t help but attempt to fix my hair. Just because someone happens to show up outside unannounced doesn’t mean I can’t present my best rendition of a southern gentleman. 

     And finally, through my fatigue and irritation, I’m finally urged to grab the doorknob and twist it open in one motion. 

“Uh, it’s two a.m. so I hope--” 

     I nervously scratch the back of my head, attempting to add spice to this awkward encounter. It wasn’t until my eyes caught sight of the blood dripping down her glass skin and the meeting of our eyes did I have any words

“Y/N?!?”  

     Her cold, pale, and hurt body would’ve hit the concrete floor if I had answered the door any later.

--- 

     And there she layed half colorless on my bed. Her smile was full of embarrassment and gratitude as I sat beside her, tending to the evident cuts and Injured areas of her body. “I hope I’m being a great house guest” she joked, causing her to laugh, yet hurting herself in the process. 

“Hey, Hey, Take it easy..” Y/N’s presence usually fills me with carefreeness, or perhaps stability, but for the first time I can’t help but react seriously. Her demeanor changed as she saw my retaliation to her joke. 

“I guess…” she looked down to her fragile body, a sigh released, seeming to be an attempt to calm down. “...I owe you an explanation for earlier. And especially for showing up at your place at 2 in the damn morning. ” 

     Thomas’ hands, full of wipes and hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton balls, froze in their tracks before he looked up at her, eager to listen and visibly confused. Y/N visibly winced as the cotton balls stuck to her cuts for longer than they should’ve, yet with Thomas’ reflexes at their all-time-max, he pulled them away with a worried expression.

“Explanation? You said you got a job, and I’m sorry for not respecting it..” I continued to clean her up, consensually of course, how could I call myself a gentleman if I were to act upon improper motives? 

“Again..” I utter quietly “..I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m ashamed you feel that way” 

     I attach an ivory-colored band aid to her glass skin, careful not to damage it any further. I look up to her watching, pitiful eyes. “You were saying?” I reciprocate the attention to her, awaiting a so-called answer to come out of her mouth 

“I didn’t know where else to run to..” she attempted to sit up, lifting her weight off of my satin-covered sheets, yet quickly stopped when being hit with a wave of pain from her right shoulder 

     Though my first thought would’ve been ‘Damn it, my darn sheets are ruined’, it was quickly drawn to Y/N and her current problem 

“Y’know, I think an apology and explanation can wait, Y/N. you need a little sleep, it’s already three in the mornin’ for god’s sake” a small laugh erupts from her

    I sent her an assuring smile, trying to remind her that everything is always going to be okay in a Jefferson household. And surprisingly I received a smile in return, a smile of trust and security that I’ve never felt so glad to see. Of course, I wish I could’ve seen that smile under different circumstances, but I’ll work with what I got. 

     I stood from my beautiful satin sheets and reached for a hoodie on my swivel chair. (everything but your closet is a closet, change my mind) I braced for a cold night on my apartment couch while Y/N enjoys the warmth of my bed, but Y/N had other plans. 

“Wait- Thomas.” She said firmly 

     I turned tiredly to her direction, my arm already extended for the door, yet frozen in place as I awaited a response 

“Can you just..” she scoot herself over, as much as possible with her frail body “..hold me?” She watches me anxiously 

“I mean— you don’t have to b—” I didn’t hesitate at all to gently slide under the sheets of the bed. As soon as I turn to her direction, I can’t help but feel scared to touch her in fear of hurting her; my hands don’t know where to reside. “Where do I..” I’m truly perplexed 

     She giggled at my confusion and shyly grabbed my hand “I’m not so fragile you know” 

     She brought my hand up to the side of her head, and all I could process was the texture of the bandages under my fingertips. I don’t know what's going on, but I couldn’t just leave her out there. 

“..Right..” I wait for her eyes to close before I can even think about closing mine, and soon the texture of the bandages seem to melt onto my fingertips as I’m finally able to return to my slumber. 

“See you in the mornin’..” 

---

     I didn’t wake up until I felt the sun rays kissing my back through my so-called ‘blackout curtains’. Such a scam. The room seemed a little too quiet; I gently turned onto my other side just to find an empty bed. I consider the possibility of last night’s encounter with Y/N was all just some messed up dream, but when I saw the faint stains of blood on my sheets, I knew I was far from dreaming. 

     My body doesn’t want to move, and I’m stuck sitting up in my bed for another ten minutes. What the heck is going on? One minute she yells at me, then next thing I know she’s outside my apartment at 2 am. 

And that explanation. 

     I guess I was such a fool to think she wouldn’t continue to run away from this matter. My thoughts are interrupted by my buzzing phone. I know for sure that it’s not Y/N hittin up my phone right about now. 

James: Let’s try that new coffee place a few blocks from your apartment? 

     He really read my mind, or maybe it’s a response made from calculating my failure yesterday. But a distraction sounds tremendous. 

Thomas: bet. 

     I throw on a cleaner, more professional jacket, if such a thing exists, and swiftly get my feet out the door. Everything seems the same, as if nothing had taken place last night. The world still spins and I’m expected to spin with it. 

I don’t think I’m anywhere near capable of unraveling your mystery. 

Y/N L/N, I will never understand you.

[unsoundedcomic]

Between Sette’s Cockney…speech pattern, I guess, and the Aldish saying “leftenant,” I gotta wonder…I mean, I know that of course your characters are speaking Tainish and Continental, and you’re translating from the original Kasslynian in the same bar that J.R.R. Tolkien did and all, but, in your heartiest of hearts, do you imagine the characters speaking in British accents?

Some of them! Here’s how I would cast them in a radio play:

Shartes: Depending on the city and even the neighbourhood, a wild melange of Twainish 19th century Mississippi patter, NYC Five Points gangs, and trashy Irish street tough. For Sette, think Francie Brady - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FZKKy150ag - rather than London cockney, though I understand why the latter would leap first to mind.

Crescians: A range of North American sounds, with the Queen herself speaking with a clipped, very carefully enunciated Great Lakes accent (for real, don’t laugh). Cast Floridians for all my Litriya girls.

Tainish-speaking Alds: When they speak Continental, they sound like Romanians speaking British English, with varying degrees of intelligibility depending on how good their second language skills are. Lemuel’s accent is very heavy. Duane has virtually none.

Continental-speaking Alds: UK accents but leaning more North American in the south and closer to Cresce. Roger and other Avelpitians almost sound Crescian. North Valynians in the slums can sound like Geordies. Combined with the regions particularly archaic verbiage, even Duane struggles to understand them.

Ilganyag and Ruck: Impossibly huge voices coming from huge, inhuman lungs and throats. Ruck has a snaky lisp thanks to his fangs and long tongue, but otherwise sounds mostly like a Crescian man from two centuries ago. Ilganyag has an accent that hasn’t been heard in the world for a thousand years, but could be traced back to the Rortidian tribe, who spoke a variety of dead languages that live on only as Aldish place names and family names. Let’s cast either a French or Eastern European actress for her :3~~

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