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jcmarchi · 10 months

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Year of ChatGPT: 5 Ways the AI Marvel Changed the World - Technology Org

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Year of ChatGPT: 5 Ways the AI Marvel Changed the World - Technology Org

The public release of the chatbot has led to a global conversation about the risks and benefits of AI – a conversation few people were having just a few years ago.

ChatGPT has given many people a taste of our AI-powered future. Image credit: Unsplash.

One year ago, OpenAI’s artificial intelligence (AI) chatbot ChatGPT was unleashed onto an unsuspecting public.

It quickly became the fastest-growing app ever, in the hands of 100 million users by the end of the second month. Today, it’s available to more than a billion people via Microsoft’s Bing search, Skype and Snapchat – and OpenAI is predicted to collect more than US$1 billion in annual revenue.

We’ve never seen a technology roll out so quickly before. It took about a decade before most people started using the web. But this time, the plumbing was already in place.

As a result, ChatGPT’s impact has gone way beyond writing poems about Carol’s retirement in Shakespeare’s style. It has given many people a taste of our AI-powered future. Here are five ways this technology has changed the world.

1. AI safety

ChatGPT forced governments around the world to wise up to the idea that AI poses significant challenges – not just economic challenges, but also societal and existential challenges.

United States President Joe Biden catapulted the US to the forefront of AI regulations with a presidential executive order that establishes new standards for AI safety and security. It looks to improve equity and civil rights, while also promoting innovation and competition, and American leadership in AI.

Soon after, the United Kingdom held the first ever intergovernmental AI Safety Summit in Bletchley Park – the place where the computer was born in World War II to crack the German Enigma code.

And more recently, the European Union has appeared to be sacrificing its early lead in regulating AI, as it struggled to adapt its AI Act with potential threats posed by frontier models such as ChatGPT.

Although Australia continues to languish towards the back of the pack in terms of regulation and investment, nations around the world are increasingly directing their money, time and attention towards addressing this issue which, five years ago, didn’t cross most people’s minds.

2. Job security

Before ChatGPT, it was perhaps car workers and other blue collar workers who most feared the arrival of robots. ChatGPT and other generative AI tools have changed this conversation.

White collar workers such as graphic designers and lawyers have now also started to worry for their jobs. One recent study of an online job marketplace found earnings for writing and editing jobs have fallen more than 10% since ChatGPT was launched. The gig economy might be the canary in this coalmine.

There’s huge uncertainty whether more jobs get destroyed by AI than created. But one thing is now certain: AI will be hugely disruptive in how we work.

3. Death of the essay

The education sector reacted with some hostility to ChatGPT’s arrival, with many schools and education authorities issuing immediate bans over its use. If ChatGPT can write essays, what will happen to homework?

Of course, we don’t ask people to write essays because there’s a shortage of them, or even because many jobs require this. We ask them to write essays because it demands research skills, improves communication skills, critical thinking and domain knowledge. No matter what ChatGPT offers, these skills will still be needed, even if we spend less time developing them.

And it isn’t only school children cheating with AI. Earlier this year, a US judge fined two lawyers and a law firm US$5,000 for a court filing written with ChatGPT that included made-up legal citations.

I imagine these are growing pains. Education is an area in which AI has much to offer. Large language models such as ChatGPT can, for example, be fine-tuned into excellent Socratic tutors. And intelligent tutoring systems can be infinitely patient when generating precisely targeted revision questions.

4. Copyright chaos

This one is personal. Authors around the world were outraged to discover that many large language models such as ChatGPT were trained on hundreds of thousands of books, downloaded from the web without their consent.

The reason AI models can converse fluently about everything from AI to zoology is because they’re trained on books about everything from AI to zoology. And the books about AI include my own copyrighted books about AI.

The irony isn’t lost on me that an AI professor’s books about AI are controversially being used to train AI. Multiple class action suits are now in play in the US to determine if this is a violation of copyright laws.

Users of ChatGPT have even pointed out examples where chatbots have generated entire chunks of text, verbatim, taken from copyrighted books.

5. Misinformation and disinformation

In the short term, one challenge which worries me most is the use of generative AI tools such as ChatGPT to create misinformation and disinformation.

This concern goes beyond synthetic text, to deepfake audio and videos that are indistinguishable from real ones. A bank has already been robbed using AI-generated cloned voices.

Elections also now appear threatened. Deepfakes played an unfortunate role in the 2023 Slovak parliamentary election campaign. Two days prior to the election, a fake audio clip about electoral fraud that allegedly featured a well-known journalist from an independent news platform and the chairman of the Progressive Slovakia party reached thousands of social media users. Commentators have suggested such fake content could have a material impact on election outcomes.

According to The Economist, more than four billion people will be asked to vote in various elections next year. What happens in such elections when we combine the reach of social media to with the power and persuasion of AI-generated fake content? Will it unleash a wave of misinformation and disinformation onto our already fragile democracies?

It’s hard to predict what will unfold next year. But if 2023 is anything to go by, I suggest we buckle up.

Source: UNSW

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want.

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest.

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey.

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here?

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.”

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further.

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins?

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you!

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent.

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny.

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them?

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame.

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?”

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.”

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael.

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time.

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you.

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold.

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes.

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn.

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal.

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group.

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that.

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area.

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose.

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’

“Too late for that.”

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one.

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno.

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).”

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you.

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip.

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!”

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.”

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.”

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!”

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?”

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture.

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!”

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.”

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew.

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off.

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings @smolgreenybeany @louistommosnesquickmilk @hyacinthrosearsha @ryxjxnnx @autumnpleaves @ravennightingaleandavatempus @0ton1n @self-righteous-dumbass @a-simp-for-block-people @fortunatelylazystranger @m1lkmandan @mirios-sunflower @ahmya-4 @shinipii @noyasblush @auroraskyfall @cryptocry @hee-hee-haw @blackstar-gazer

Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons

#michael_beloved x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing

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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

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The struggle of trying to keep people from opening the doorway is an endless one, as no one seems to learn from each incident. These are things we cannot control, a fact that many are trying to cover up or ignore. With all our knowledge and technology, we like to think we are masters of everything. With our power, influence and budget, there is nothing we cannot solve or conquer! So you can imagine none of the higher ups want to acknowledge that what we are doing is just desperately jamming a cork into a leaky dam. We can't do anything else but seal up these breaches and pray they don't break, or at least hope some idiot doesn't pull them open for a peek. So many folk are absolutely entranced by what we have seen, believing these things are the key to innovation and evolution. To harness even a fraction of what we witnessed would catapult us decades, maybe centuries, forward in terms of technology and progress. So when we say that no one is allowed to touch it or even look at it, people get angry and indignant. "We just need one sample!" they say "We will have it open for only a second, I swear!" they claim. But that isn't how this thing works, you can't just pull the plug from the dam for a quick drink then simply pop it back in. They open it up and one of those things comes bursting out, as if it was a water bucket sitting atop the door just waiting to dunk the idiot who fell for it. Every time, we are forced to crudely seal the door shut, clean up the leakage and deal with this new monstrosity that is now screaming across the landscape. The damages and cost of repairs alone is a tragedy, but when one of those abominations gallops into the nearest town, then it becomes something a whole lot more messy. Understanding these things that have emerged has been quite a battle. They don't talk, at least not in a tongue we can comprehend, and they show no desire to communicate. They just pop in and start smashing things to pieces, hardly wasting a second. We can only beat and blast them until they stop moving, then haul them to a one-way door and chuck them back in. We can't kill them, let alone contain them. Every fool with the hopes of advancing human progress has been clamoring for us to capture one of these things, but we've abandoned the idea after the first disaster. The only solution is to send them home as soon as possible, and slam the door hard right after. It certainly isn't foolproof, but it is the only one we got. It's not like we can talk to them or tame them, they are beasts only in appearance. What they really are is unknown, and the theories are too awful to accept. We would much rather answer any other question than acknowledge what those things could have been. One of the things people have wondered about is why they are so violent. What drives these beings to cause destruction and havoc the second they walk through the door. The obvious idea is that they are weapons of war, meant to destroy humanity and what not. If that was the case, they are doing a terrible job of it. Sure, they can atomize the containment area and skewer the military personnel running it, but what they do after is not so tactical. We took down one of these abominations while it was tearing apart a community garden, while another was known for really hating tires. No drive to run towards the nearest nuclear silo and set off doomsday, not when there are windows to smash and a picket fence to vaporize. Perhaps these things are just animals after all, confused by this new world and lashing out at everything around it. Another theory is that they are deathless beings who have no understanding of loss or consequences. Perhaps they are just playing with us like toys and they enjoy trashing their playroom. Maybe this is all fun and games to them, and we are just spoiling it for them. If that is the case, then they really hate being sent home. The sounds they make, the fight they put up when we try to shove them through one of those "dump chute" doors. Either they hate losing their playtime, or they are terrified of going back home. Are they invading or escaping? -------------------------------------------------------- “Onyx Manticore” A continuation of me throwing weird parts onto a thing, same like the Ebon Boar and Umbran Unicorn. This series will pop up from time to time, as long as I can think of strange patterns to doodle and as long as the thesaurus keeps providing.

#monster #creature #alien #cyborg #biomechanical #manticore #art #drawing

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innately-pretentious · 4 years

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Finally, I Found You. (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

Request: Hey! I looooved your Klaus headcanons and was wondering if you could write about when him and the reader are reunited in the 60s??? Totally fine if not, have a nice day!

A/N: Awh thank you so much, I hope this is alright dude! I am really tempted to turn this into a series tho... if you want that?? Even if this is really rough and kind of rushed. Kinda angsty? Kinda sad? Very fluffy. Enjoy!

Being spat out of a spinning vortex into a dingy alley was enough to stress anybody out, especially after a rather terrifying and life threatening encounter with your sister initiating the apocalypse. Navigating through the twenty first century was difficult enough, but being catapulted into a completely new decade with nothing but your bag and clothes you were wearing just about topped that.

Letting out a cry as you hit the ground and groaning as you rolled over and tried to get our bearings. Glancing around to see if you could locate any of your siblings whom you were with only a few minutes previously, you stood up and brushed yourself off, you began calling out their names. Sadly with no success, there was no response, you were alone.

You continued pacing along the pavement, trying to come up with a plan of action. Deciding you couldn’t improve your situation much from the alley, you emerged into a busy street and began wandering down the road. Progressing along the street, you could not help but take notice of the architecture and clothing surrounding you. Definitely not similar to the modern aesthetics you were used to. Flagging down an approachable looking woman and kid you asked what year it was, sharing peculiar look she confirmed your suspicions. It was July 24th 1962. Brilliant.

Trying hard not to think the worst of your situation, you mind wandered to Klaus. The two of you had hardly been apart for more than one night over the course of your year long relationship, your stomach dropped at the thought of him being isolated in a random time period, unable to contact anyone, nobody to help. A small part of you wished Ben was with him, but you were completely clueless as to how this whole time travel business worked. You attempted to brush that thought aside for the time being, first you had to find somewhere to stay. Sleeping rough with nothing but the clothes on your back did not sound appealing, luckily you had some spare cash in your bag for a room for a few days, giving you sometime to formulate a plan.

The first night was definitely the hardest. Deciding to find the cheapest hotel you could, you booked a room for the night, collecting the keys and collapsing on the mattress. As soon as you got into the uncomfortable bed you knew sleep would not come tonight, the double bed was not helping either. You spent the majority of the night on your side, laying there and glancing at the opposite side of the mattress, where he should be sleeping. It felt too empty without Klaus hogging the blanket. You couldn’t help the collection of memories the two of you shared popping into your mind. Lazy weekday nights, limbs draped absentmindedly over one another, Klaus’ hand tracing soft patterns into your shoulder as you talked about absolute nonsense for hours. Both dreading when the morning came as you would have to leave his arms. Growing up in Hargreeves’ mansion you would constantly sneak into his room, even before you were together. Your ability to turn invisible was a great help, coming to comfort him if your father pushed him too hard again was almost a nightly occurrence. You loved the way he would relax as soon as he felt you lift up the blanket and settle in next to him, knowing he wouldn’t have be alone.

You smiled at the thought of him, he always had to be close to you. Even in his sleep you caught him reaching for you sleepily or rolling his leg onto you in an attempt to pull you closer. You often wondered if he even knew he was doing it or if it was entirely subconscious. After everything he went through growing up it was no surprise he had clingy tendencies. You wouldn’t change him for anything, if he needed you close, you had no problem obliging him. If it made him feel safe you would do it.

It was at this point the tears started to fall. For someone who had been through so much to then be stuck somewhere, unable to reach you, made your heart ache. Tomorrow you would figure something out, however futile it may be, you were determined to at least try and make a life for yourself here.

3 Months Later:

The three months had not been easy, by any means. It had mainly consisted of you on the road, finding work pretty much wherever would take you. Getting the car you were currently driving was a feat in itself, stealing an automobile had never been on your bucket list. You never liked using your power to steal, however, it was your only mode of transport and occasional place to sleep. You always coaxed Klaus not to just take things, he would be shocked if he could see you now, the look on his face would be priceless! On the bright side, you could have picked a worse car, with five seats, a convertible roof and playable radio, you had risen in worse rides.

More memories surfaced in your mind, ones where you took Klaus out for a drive out of the city during the beginning of his sobriety. This started as an attempt to inject a new lust for life into him, show him there was more to the world than just powder in the back alleys. Soon your little road trip became a weekly occurrence, driving with Klaus and losing track of time, just each other for company. You loved him dearly but you both decided it would be more beneficial if you were the one behind the wheel, not that he cared, he was given full control of the music this way. He insisted on having the windows down and the music loud, staring at you with his pupils slightly dilated, feeling doped up on life rather than various pills. You loved how radiant he looked, you even let him get away with wailing along to the lyrics on the radio, at least for a while…

“Klaus, I love you, but I’m gonna need my eardrums in the future,”

“Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m gracing them with my dulcet tones?”

You couldn’t help but jokingly glare at him. Once again he was never to far away from you, laughing and giving your thigh a squeeze as you watch the city disappear behind you, along with his worries.

Dragging yourself back to the present (well, 1962), you gripped the steering wheel, forcing yourself to focus on the road instead of the bittersweet memories you held. They were the only things you had left of him, and you hoped that wherever he was, he was safe.

You decided to return to the town where it all began, Dallas, Texas. You were in need of some new clothes and a quick bite to eat before you got back on the road, in search for another short-term job to earn some much needed cash. A second-hand shop would probably be the most budget friendly option for clothes, ringing the bell as you opened the door, you began to flick through the various fabrics and patterns of clothing. One of the things you loved about this decade was the flamboyant clothing, he would have thrived here. Gathering quite a large armful of clothes, you decided to go try a few on, just looking through your selection one last time before you committed to the changing room.

You were ripped from your thoughts by a loud thud on the window, resulting in you dropping the bundle of clothes you had accumulated during your browsing. Huffing and turning your attention to the window, ready for some kind of confrontation, although, nothing could be further from your assumption.

Your eyes met with the same hazel ones you had been gazing into for the last year, unmistakable hands with tattoos were firmly placed on the glass. His jaw was slack and his eyes were wide as he gawked through the glass. You began to shake as you drank in the sight of him, your chest tightened and you found it increasingly difficult to breathe. You wanted to run into his arms, but you weren’t sure if your legs would carry you. You couldn’t feel anything except the racing of you heart. Time seemed to still as you just stared at one another.

He was the first to break the gaze, tripping over himself in an attempt to reach the door. He forced the door open so forcefully that the bell nearly fell off, it didn’t stop him though. Running down the shopping aisle, pushing the racks aside as he continued towards you, knocking over a few clothing racks, not slowing down as he slammed into your open arms. The impact of the force sending the two of you tumbling to the ground, both of you gripping onto the other in fear they may disappear again. He could feel you shaking in his hold, overwhelmed with the entire situation, he kept his grip firm around you, letting you know that he is here and you are safe. He doesn’t plan on leaving you.

Finally managing to pull his face from the crook of your neck, you held his face in your hands, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. You weren’t aware you were crying until you felt his calloused hands brush away a stray tear from your cheek.

“It’s really you isn’t it?” You managed to choke out, you must have looked insane to the shopkeeper, both of you smiling and sobbing, curled up on his shop floor.

“Of course it’s me, nobody could recreate this amount of beauty and personality twice,” he joked and cracked a smile. That typical Klaus smile you missed so much. Even in a time like this, supposedly sentimental, he still had to get a wisecrack in.

“You’re such an idiot Klaus, only you could compliment yourself in a time like this,” you said, you weren’t sure if you were crying or laughing at this point, but you knew you were finally happy.

“I’ve had to do it myself for a while since you were absent,” he said, you couldn’t miss the subtle sadness that passed over his features.

“Come on then Y/N”, he groaned as he stood up, offering a hand to help you, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You glanced up at him before you accepted his hand, his hair was longer than before and he looked healthier, but he was undeniably still your Klaus. You placed you hand in his and let him drag you up, resting his arm around your waist, slightly tighter than he used to. You allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, re-familiarising yourself with his body. The two of you definitely had a long conversation ahead, you allowed him to drag you to the nearest diner, excited to unburden yourselves after finally finding each other.

#tua #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves headcanon #tua headcanon #the umbrella academy headcanon

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walkerwords · 4 years

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“The Savior Sessions” Part 16 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/GENE PAGE

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: When the reader arrives back home, they have to face Negan, but first, they need to tell the others what happened with Alpha. When they find out that Daryl is about to step into the fire what will happen and how will Negan and the reader get past his escape?

Word Count: 2981

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Falling” by Harry Styles

Note: I wanted to make this part focused on conversation and have a breather after all the action. More to come.

-------

The walls of Alexandria greeted you late in the afternoon.

The entire ride home you had been paranoid that any Walker was one of Alpha’s people. The original fears from the start of the Apocalypse were returning. A lone Walker or even a few hadn’t given you the sense of fear like this since those first few months. However, now, the Living threat moved with the Dead and there were new rules to play by.

At least, that is what you felt this was. A cruel game. After Terminus, after the Wolves, and even after the Saviors, you didn’t think people could get worse. How naïve you and the rest of your family had been.

As your horse swayed beneath you, your hands gripped the reins tightly as Alpha’s face remained at the forefront of your mind.

There was something so feral yet powerful about the woman. You could also tell that she was the product of the new world and based on what Lydia had told you, Henry, and Daryl, her mother hadn’t always been this way. You only hoped that whatever Daryl was about to do didn’t unleash even more of the terror that you were sure was hidden beneath her stoic features.

Siddiq was the one that met you as the gate opened. He took the reins of your horse and led him to the stables, not saying a word as you finally relaxed when the gate shut securely behind you.

“Here,” Siddiq said quietly as he reached for your arm to help you down off the horse. You gripped his shoulder as your feet hit the ground and then he was pulling you into him. “I’m so sorry about Jesus,” he said and you gripped him back, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks, Doc,” you said as you gave him a final squeeze before letting go. Stepping back, you looked up at him and then noticed something else in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just sympathy. “What else happened?” He took a breath and then smiled slightly.

“Rosita’s pregnant,” he said proudly and that was the last thing you had expected to come out of his mouth.

“And it’s….it’s yours?” you asked, carefully.

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a wider smile. You couldn’t help the wave of emotion that overtook you then. Even with all the sorrow, this was something to celebrate.

“I am so happy for you,” you said and you meant it. “Look at you, a dad.” You punched him in the shoulder lightly.

“Thanks,” he said and you could tell he wanted to be even more excited, but after what had happened, nobody was feeling very gleeful. Instead, you focused on the task at hand.

“We need to talk. All of us,” you said with a heavy sigh, “we are not even remotely done with these people.” Siddiq understood immediately.

“I’ll call for a council meeting,” he said. “Did you want to and talk to…” he began, but you shook your head.

“No, just call the meeting. Negan can wait.”

---------

“They’re back,” a quiet voice said in the dark.

Negan slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t been able to since Michonne returned and told him what had happened and asked him if he had ever heard of people walking with the Dead while wearing their skins. He hadn’t, but he wasn’t surprised that they were out there. The new world changed people in the most extreme ways.

Michonne hadn’t stayed long, but he could tell the new threat was getting to her. It was rare when he saw the woman rocked and he didn’t have a good feeling about what was to come.

Turning over on his cot, Negan looked at Judith who had just returned to the cell. Judith folded herself onto the floor as she had hours before. She had been doing so since he got back, only leaving to see her mom and sleep. Whether Michonne knew or not, she never told her to leave.

“Do they look angry?” Negan asked.

“They look tired,” Judith said softly. “I think something else bad happened.” Negan furrowed his brow as he sat up.

“Why do you say that?”

“Siddiq just called a council meeting. They only do that when something bad happened,” Judith said.

“They called a council meeting once because Eugene tried to make a catapult,” Negan reminded her.

“This one feels different,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Before I came down here, I heard (Y/N) say that Uncle Daryl was afraid. He’s not afraid of anything.” Negan frowned at that. He knew Daryl enough to know that he rarely showed fear in the face of danger.

“Your uncle is strong, kid,” he told her, trying to reassure her. “He’s been through worse.” Judith, however, wasn’t convinced. She leaned in more towards the bars, removing her hat so he could see her better.

“Negan,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” He didn’t hesitate then. Negan moved towards the bars and crouched down to her level. He reached for her hands and she held onto them tight.

“You listen to me, kid,” he said, “no matter what happens, nobody will hurt you. Do you understand me? I won’t let them hurt you. Besides, you are a survivor, and dammit, you’re a Grimes. To these new freaks that may not mean somethin’, but to me and to everyone else in your family, that means a lot.”

“Does it?” she asked in a small voice.

“Hell yeah it does,” he assured her. “You, your mom, and that little boy upstairs are what’s left of this badass family I met seven years ago and you know what I learned after knowin’ your daddy and big brother?”

“What?”

“Nobody goes against a Grimes and wins.”

--------

As soon as you finished explaining what had happened at Hilltop, the meeting hall was silent.

“I don’t know what Henry ended up saying to her, but it got the kid to open up,” you explained. “I think that she could be valuable.”

“For what?” Aaron asked. “You saw those freaks the same night I did, (Y/N). You know how ruthless they are. They aren’t going to back down for one girl.”

“Lydia is Alpha’s child, Aaron,” you said. “Whether the woman is capable of compassion or not, that means something to her. I don’t think she would have openly exposed herself like that if it didn’t.”

“And that’s why Daryl went after her? For leverage?” Rosita asked. You noticed that her hand was placed protectively on her abdomen. You didn’t think she realized she was doing it.

“I think it’s more about protecting her,” you said with a sigh. “The girl’s been abused.”

“She also killed Jesus,” Aaron argued.

“No, her people did. Lydia didn’t kill anyone,” you countered.

“As far as you know…”

“Look all I know is that Daryl is about to declare war and we need to be ready,” you said. Looking around at the faces in the room, you could see that a wave of fear was being passed from person to person. These...Whisperers, as Eugene called them, were something out of a nightmare and that was saying something considering everyone had been living in a horror film for a decade.

“Negan didn’t know them,” Michonne interjected, gaining your attention. You nodded.

“I figured as much,” you sighed. “I don’t think anyone would have known them. I think that this is their first time showing themselves to people that they weren’t immediately going to kill afterward.”

“Looks like we’re all going in blind on this,” Michonne said.

“It’s new territory, that’s for sure,” you said, leaning against the wooden column at your back.

“What’s your take on all of this?” Gabriel asked you.

“I think they are more dangerous than we think,” you said. “We’ve fought villains before, but this is the first time when I can’t see how this is going to go. Guns and armies are one thing, even those freaks at Terminus made some kind of sense in my mind. But this? This is absolute insanity and I’m positive that we haven’t seen the last of Alpha or her people.”

“Why didn’t you go with Daryl?” Aaron asked.

“I was needed back here,” you said.

“For Negan?” Aaron asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, Aaron, instead of informing my family that there are masked psychos after us, I ran all the way back here to check on escaped convict number one,” you spat, gathering your things and gripping your sword tighter. “Fuck off.”

Nobody said anything as you stormed from the hall.

“Nice,” Michonne said with a smack to the back of Aaron’s head.

You headed for home, still boiling with anger. You knew that Aaron was angry with you about everything with Negan no matter what he said. He blamed Negan for Eric and while you understood, you just wished that he would remember that Negan wasn’t the one to kill his boyfriend. Eric tragically died in the war, but so did a lot of people.

Pausing in the middle of the road, you couldn’t believe that that thought crossed your mind. You were invalidating Aaron’s grief because of your own emotions and feelings and you hated the way it made you feel. “Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself.

Continuing on towards your house, you passed by the Grimes house when a small voice reached your ears.

“You always tell me to be honest!” Judith’s yell came from the cell beneath her house. She sounded frustrated which had you moving closer.

“You’re the kid, I’m the adult,” Negan said back. Hearing his voice offered you both comfort and stoked that anger in your gut. You wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time. Your feet were moving before you could even stop them and the next thing you knew you were pushing open the heavy door of the jail. You were met with silence.

“Get out, Judith,” you ordered. The young girl looked up at you from her spot on the ground. Her hat was in her hands and she looked as if she had been there for a while.

“No,” she said, “you’re gonna yell at him.” The girl was too smart for her own good, you thought. You still avoided looking at Negan, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“I’m gonna yell at both of you if you don’t get out,” you said. “Your mom is gonna wanna talk to you.”

“Is this about what happened to Jesus?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“Yes, now go.” Judith hesitated. “Judith, right now.” With a sigh, she placed her hat on her head and sulked as she walked from the room. With one last look at Negan, she stormed out and ran up the steps.

“You shouldn’t be angry with her,” Negan said, finally speaking directly to you. You paused and then let your bag drop from your hands. Dust flew from where it thumped to the cold floor and then you were turning to finally look at him. That light was in his eyes again, the one that was only reserved for you.

Normally, it would give you so much joy, but it only fueled your fire. However, you kept your temper under control. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about these Whisperers?” you asked, your voice low.

“Is that what you seriously want to talk about right now?” he asked, his arms braced on the bars as he gave you an incredulous look.

“I’m not sure I can talk about anything else without screaming.”

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m hurt, Negan,” you corrected. “When Scott showed up and told Daryl and me that you had left, yeah, I was pissed. I couldn’t understand why after everything you would just leave and then I realized something.”

“Which was what?” he asked carefully.

“That I was so stupid to believe anything that happened between us was real.” Negan stared at you in shock, not expecting that at all.

“You honestly believe that? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What else am I supposed to believe!” you shouted. “I am so goddamn stupid! I should have known the second you had the chance, you were going to leave. I just don’t know why you even bothered to come back.”

“Don’t bullshit yourself, (Y/N),” he countered, not letting you be the only one on offense.

“Excuse me?”

“You know damn well why I came back! You just won’t admit it to yourself because you’re afraid!”

“Afraid? Of what? Why don’t you tell me Negan since you seem to know me so well,” you said, crossing your arms.

“That’s the thing, though. I do know you. I know you better than anyone has in a long time. And I’m not talking about where you grew up or how many Walkers you’ve killed. I know you. We are the same and I know that I’m not the only one who has felt that way. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth and so do you.”

“You don’t know anything,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t feel like this, don’t you understand?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am willing to turn my back on my entire family just to keep you safe. Just to make sure that you are still alive when I come home. I shouldn’t be this...this consumed by one person!”

“Why are you acting like the idea of you and me is so fucking terrible?”

“Because everything I touch, I kill and so do you! You say we’re the same, well you’re right, Negan! We are both monsters and all people do is die around us! Rick, Carl, Jesus! If we are the same then I don’t want to be!”

“I’m not going to let you stand there and say that what we feel for each other doesn’t mean anything!”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” you shot back.

“Then say it, (Y/N),” he said, leaning through the bars. “Say that I mean nothing to you and I’ll stop.” You were silent as you looked at him, fighting the tears behind your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“You bastard,” you swore. “You left me. After everything that I’ve lost, that you knew about and you left! How am I supposed to react to hearing that you were gone!”

“I came back,” he said softly.

“And what if you didn’t? Was I just supposed to accept that? Was I just supposed to go on with life not knowing where you were or if you were even alive? What was the plan?” Negan reached for you, but you shook your head, holding your arms tighter against your chest.

“I didn’t think there was a future here if I was locked in a cage.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you shot back, trying to keep your rage contained.

“Don’t you?” Negan challenged.

“I just lost one of my best friends and my other one is hunting down our new enemy’s kid to save her life so no, Negan, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“I’m not sorry that I left, I’m sorry that you’re hurting.”

“You hurt me,” you told him, wiping at your face.

“I know and if I could take it back, I would,” he said.

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here,” you told him.

“You could never be the villain of my story,” he whispered. The silence was thick in the room and you didn’t know how to respond to him. You hadn’t intended to go off on him like this, you thought you would give it a few days, but hearing his voice….

“I have to figure out how to help Daryl,” you said suddenly with a sniff. Negan frowned as you changed the subject but went along with it.

“What are you going to do about them?” he asked.

“We’ll figure it out when Daryl finds the girl. He has to be included in the decision. Tara too. Maggie also if we can reach her, but I don’t know where she is right now,” you whispered, not looking at him.

“There’s gonna be a fight, isn’t there?”

“Not if I can help it,” you said, gripping your blade. Negan noticed and he also noticed the steel reserve that seemed to be around you since you walked in.

“You’re gonna kill them.” It wasn’t a question.

“Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies,” you said looking up at him. He could see the tears marks, the tears he had caused. “No more games. If she comes for us, I will kill her.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you said.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“We don’t know anything anymore.”

“What are you really trying to say, (Y/N)? That you hate me now?”

“I will never hate you,” you said, taking a step back. “I told you that before.”

“So what, then?”

“I just can’t trust you anymore,” you said as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder.

“How do I win that trust back?” he asked, his tone becoming hoarse.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, turning to go.

“I’ll do anything!” he called to you. Your hand paused on the door handle and as you closed your eyes you let one more tear fall.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“(Y/N)!” he yelled as you left the room, letting the door close behind you as you walked away from him.

As you jogged up the steps, you heard his calls for you to return, but you just kept walking.

TAGS: : @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @halszka-potter @yespleasejayhalstead @fmunegan @hoemadegrace @pulplorrd @writingdead0829 @lucillethings

#Negan Imagine #Savior Sessions #Walkerwords #negan x reader #negan #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfics #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan x y/n #twd

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littlemixnet · 4 years

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Little Mix on what it takes to survive being the most bullied band in pop

Still teenagers when they were catapulted to fame, superstardom came at a price for Little Mix. They open up to Francesca Babb about the soaring highs and crashing lows of the past nine years. It is the end of our YOU cover shoot, and I am facing the lesser-spotted sight of a barefaced Little Mix. Wet wipes swipe back and forth across their faces and, as the foundation departs in a deluge of coffee-coloured tissues, Jesy Nelson and Leigh-Anne Pinnock, both 29, and Jade Thirlwall and Perrie Edwards, both 27, visibly relax into their tracksuits and boyfriend jeans, shoulders dropping as they settle into themselves. I’m so used to seeing them contoured and camera ready that I assumed full glamour was their happy place. But perhaps the real Little Mix are not the war-paint-and-leotard-clad pop stars we’ve spent almost ten years watching grow up, but rather the four women they have become behind the glare of the spotlight. It’s those four women that I’m intrigued to meet. Since winning The X Factor nine years ago, there have been highs – selling over 50 million records globally, a significant percentage of which were self-penned, and creating enough accompanying make-up lines and merchandise to keep them and their families comfortable for the foreseeable future (recent reports suggest they have earned a combined £28.5 million to date). But there have also been lows – perpetual picking apart by both the public and the press, bullying and vitriol from online trolls. The most extreme cases of which led Jesy to attempt suicide during Little Mix’s early days in 2013 (she regards a tweet from the controversial Katie Hopkins – ‘Packet Mix have still got a chubber in their ranks. Less Little Mix. More Pick n Mix’ – as the ‘pinnacle point’ for her depression) and pushed Perrie into an ongoing struggle with anxiety. Fame has changed them. In some ways they are still youthful and silly – dropping phrases into conversation that wouldn’t be out of place in a playground – yet, in others, they are wise beyond their years, diving headfirst into battles on feminism, race and mental health. They’re fun enough to be light relief, smart enough to inspire a generation struggling with the pressures of youth and social media even before a pandemic was thrown at them, and ballsy enough to leave Simon Cowell’s record label because they didn’t feel he had their best interests at heart. ‘It’s never really been a cruise, has it?’ Jade ponders, a copy of social activist Bell Hooks’ 2002 feminist theory Communion: The Female Search For Love in her hand (not for show, I might add; when I ask her about it, she is well versed in its content). ‘It’s either been a really big high, or a really big low.’ Jesy, who has found herself the target of some of the cruelest contempt from the world outside Little Mix, agrees: ‘Some of the best times, some of the worst times.’ Comments on her weight, her looks, her place in the band, comments that she should take her own life, all led her into a deep depression and the aforementioned suicide attempt. Her documentary last year, Jesy Nelson: Odd One Out, revealed her journey through it all and, while harrowing, it is essential viewing on the realities of growing up in a world dominated by social media. ‘Before we got in the group, I never looked at myself and thought, “I don’t like that” – I don’t think any of us did. I never thought, “Oh god, I’m fat”, and then we got in the industry, and we all started wanting to change things about ourselves. It’s so sad. There are things [in the past] I definitely wish I hadn’t done,’ she says, referring to the suicide attempt, in which she took an overdose after a two-year battle with depression and an eating disorder. ‘But would I be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone through all of that?’ ‘There was a time when it was worse than it is now,’ adds Leigh-Anne, who has increasingly used her own Instagram channel to vocalise her experience of racism, both overt and underlying, throughout her time in the band. ‘I guess we’re taking steps forward, but I fear for my [future] daughters…’ ‘It makes me not want to have a kid,’ agrees Jesy. ‘Those insecurities that we all have now because of social media, imagine having that embedded in you as a child?’ Before you write them off as four very lucky girls ungratefully complaining about a lifestyle so many dream of, I should point out that they are fully aware of the paradox of their privilege. I suppose the point is, it’s not too much to ask to not be bullied to the point of hospitalisation as a by-product, is it? ‘Little Mix has changed our lives for the better, and our families’ lives, and we have achieved so much,’ says Perrie. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ agrees Jesy (a warning I will hear repeatedly throughout our hour together, perhaps thanks to almost a decade of their quotes being blasted out of context for click-bait). ‘I’m not going to sit here and say we’ve got a terrible life, because we haven’t, but I do think our innocence was taken from us.’ It’s a while since the girls last did any press. Lockdown saw a halt to any activity they had planned, including the launch of their new talent show, BBC1’s Little Mix: The Search (in which they, well, search for a new band to mentor and join them on tour). But the time apart has not diminished their ability to finish each other’s sentences and jump to each other’s aid. It has, it seems, been really rather good for them and allowed them to come back fired up for the release of their sixth album, Confetti, which came out this week. ‘It was needed,’ agrees Jesy. ‘We’re never not with each other and we’re always busy. Our mornings start early, we finish really late.’ Being at home has meant more time spent with their families, with Jade even starting her own show on MTV with her mum Norma. Called Served!, the self-filmed series saw the pair interview celebrity drag queens and challenge each other to cooking competitions. ‘I love drag culture,’ she says, ‘and me mam was by herself in lockdown, so I thought it’d be something nice to keep her entertained.’ ‘Your mum could be on Loose Women,’ Leigh-Anne muses. ‘Imagine our mams on a show!’ shrieks Jade. ‘Nobody else would get a word in edgeways with my mam,’ laughs Perrie. ‘Ooh, when Debbie goes off on Twitter,’ says Jade, of Perrie’s mum’s habit of weighing in on comments from haters. ‘My mam will text me, have you seen Debbie’s been going off on someone!’ It is interesting that all four talk frequently about their mums throughout our chat, and yet there is no mention of fathers. While their mums often appear on Instagram, a sighting of Perrie’s dad on her 23rd birthday was extremely rare. Perhaps the Little Mix dads’ absence in the narrative is because the four girls were predominantly raised by their mothers (all of their parents separated when they were younger), and another reason the group’s bond is so tight. Little Mix are each other’s wall of arms, their own personal bodyguards. Jesy, they unanimously agree, is Scary Mix (although I find her a delight), which is interesting given her own inability to bat off other people’s words. ‘When it’s you on your own dealing with something personally,’ Jesy says, ‘It’s completely different. You feel so vulnerable alone, but we are a force when we’re together.’ It’s not hard to see, in today’s social-media obsessed society where there is little retribution for cruelty, why four attractive, successful young women, with attractive, successful young boyfriends (two footballers – Perrie dates Liverpool’s Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Leigh-Anne is engaged to Watford’s Andre Gray – while Jade is with Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens and Jesy is going out with Our Girl actor Sean Sagar), who seem to be living a dream life have found themselves at the heart of a whirlwind of vitriol. There was the infamous spat with Piers Morgan, in which he mocked them for posing naked but for the insults that have been hurled at them painted on their bodies. He accused them of using sex to sell records and called them ‘foul-mouthed, talentless, clothes-allergic little dimwits’, which is not how I find them to be. ‘I take Piers with a pinch of salt,’ Jesy says, rolling her eyes. ‘He does it to cause drama, so I take no notice. When we won The X Factor, we didn’t look like a generic girl band: we’re all different shapes and sizes, we didn’t dress sexy, so immediately everyone was, “What’s this?”’ ‘Usually, when you see a girl band, they’re perfection, they have six-packs – and we didn’t,’ continues Jesy. ‘People saw us as kids, so even though we’re now women, people still think of us that way, so when we come out on stage in leotards, they think, “That’s disgusting!”’ ‘One Direction didn’t get the s**t we get, because they’re men,’ states Leigh-Anne. ‘It’s like, “They’re four girls, let’s come at them”. As soon as it’s girls, they think, “Oh you slag.”’ ‘When it’s men, it’s celebrated, but the minute women sexualise themselves and feel powerful doing it, we’re told to rein it in,’ adds Jade. ‘We’re conditioned to think that women are there to be these innocent and pure beings and the minute you step out of that, it’s carnage.’ Little Mix, however, are not scared of embracing that carnage and of sparking a debate. For their show The Search, Jade describes how it was important for them to set the tone on respect when each new person auditioned. ‘Because we are small women, it’s important to show people that they need to respect us, that we know what we’re talking about and we need to be listened to,’ she says. ‘There’s no nastiness,’ continues Jesy about the show, which has been praised for modernising and freshening up the age-old TV format. ‘There’s no making anyone feel uncomfortable for entertainment.’ They also insisted a large part of their budget be dedicated to looking after the contestants’ mental health, understanding, first hand, the pitfalls of talent shows. The Search is not their first attempt at diversifying their talent. As a group, they have LMX make-up line and also a perfume, Style By Little Mix. Subsequently, they have become expert businesswomen, refusing to make the mistakes of pop groups past, so often left completely penniless at the end of their careers. ‘I remember walking into an early label meeting and saying, “This is who we want to be, this is the campaign we want, this is the imagery we want,”’ says Jade. ‘We knew our brand from the get go and we very much steered that ship.’ It’s a long way from their (as Jesy puts it) ‘working-class backgrounds’. Since joining the band, each one has bought their mum a house and, while their tale is not entirely rags to riches, the jump from Primark to Prada in recent years has certainly been significant. When it comes to business, Perrie describes herself and Leigh-Anne as the ones who will often seek a compromise in difficult situations, while they send Jesy and Jade in when deals need to be made. ‘Jesy’s the badass,’ Perrie laughs. ‘Whenever I’m scared, I’ll stand behind her. She’s the one who puts her foot down in a boardroom full of men and says, “It’s going to be this way.” But we pick our battles. We don’t just argue about every decision – it’s when we feel we have to.’ ‘Nobody could say that we are difficult, and if they do, they’re lying,’ says Leigh-Anne adamantly. Adds Jesy: ‘We know what we want, and we know what kids want.’ Little Mix have lived over a third of their lives in the spotlight. They’ve seen how things work, how things don’t, and they’ve learnt how to cope with it all. The lows may have been spectacularly low, but the highs have surpassed any of their expectations. Their story is not your classic fairytale, but it’s one they have learnt they can write their own ending for. If the Little Mix I meet today is anything to go by, I wouldn’t expect that ending to come any time soon. Little Mix’s new album Confetti is out now. Their movie LM5: The Tour Film will be in cinemas nationwide on 21 and 22 November.

#little mix #you magazine 2020 #article #2020 #confetti promo

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tyrilblue · 4 years

Text

Live for me

Part II - Rome’s power

Marc Antony x MC (Alba)

Word count: 2700

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ✨

You can find Part I here

Ante diem iv Nonas Septembres XXXI

(September 2nd, 31 b.C.)

Roman-Egyptian encampment.

Actium promontory, Greece.

Marc Antony scribbled hastily on a makeshift table, stopping every so often to check for noises. The encampment was eerily quiet in the dead of night, washed by moonlight. The only sound Antony could hear was the crackling of the fire at the center of the tent. He sat in silence, his pen hovering just an inch above the parchment, his head crowded by a million thoughts.The world's future, together with his own, would be decided at dawn. Antony's last, great stand against Octavian's forces could take place any minute, depending on the moment of his enemy's arrival. Thankfully, Cleopatra still did not doubt his loyalty and love. With her support he had his fair chances of winning, but good commanders knew never to take victory for granted.

In that chaos of uncertainty there was only one thing he now knew for sure.

He wanted to see her again.

Antony never thought he could feel such a thing, but after decades of warfare, plotting and bloodshed, all his heart ached for was peace. Of course, power was still his goal, but he did not view it as the only option anymore. A younger version of himself would have laughed at his weakness, and at times he still thought aging might have softened his heart. Still, he wasn't so ready to give up the rest of his life anymore, if his fate was to live beyond that battle.

At that thought, images of Alba promising to die with him flashed through his mind. His heart ached as he remembered her, as beautiful as a goddess in a cloud of white silk, and he desperately, hopelessly went on writing.

«My dearest Alba, I hope this message finds you alive and well. The final battle against Octavian will take place tomorrow in the bay of Actium, and my fate - our fate - will be decided then. All these months in exile have taught me much, but more than anything I now know I do not want to give up on our future. No matter the outcome of this war, if I do not die in battle, I will do everything that is in my power to come back to you. If I lose, we shall flee Rome together. Please, disregard the last message I sent you. If the battle should not fare well for me, run and seek shelter in the home of Lucius Pontius. I am giving this message to him, a trusted soldier, who will be leaving on a merchant ship at dawn. I hope he manages to reach you before the news about my possible defeat reach Rome. I want to live for you, with you, even if that means being idle for the rest of my days.»

Antony skimmed the text once more, waiting for the ink to dry, then he added their secret code, small enough to go unseen, at the bottom of the paper. He and Alba had agreed she should trust no one's words while he was away, even if they should come from his most trusted messenger, so they'd established a code to make sure their letters to each other could not be forged.

He sighed. He felt hopeless, his logical mind couldn't allow him to hope, because he knew that the news about a war's outcome could travel faster than the wind. He read the letter over again, kneading his brow in frustration, then started to wrap the parchment in a roll.

At that moment the entrance to the tent opened, letting in a ray of moonlight that was quickly shadowed by queen Cleopatra's figure. Antony's heart shrank with dread on seeing her, despite the queen's beauty. She was dressed in her night attire, her linen tunic billowing in the soft sea breeze coming from outside.

"Marc Antony" - she said in her typical low, mellow tone, her Latin hinting at her Egyptian nature. "Why did you leave our tent? I have been missing you". She was calm, but there was a silent threat hidden in her soft words. Antony had gained most of her trust, but after Caesar, no amount of flattering and calculation could gain him her absolute faith. Cleopatra walked towards him, and Antony was careful to act natural, leaving the half-wrapped roll of parchment exposed so as not to raise suspicions on her part. The queen laid her golden hands on Antony's shoulders, drawing circles with her thumbs. He let out a sigh of pleasure, only partly meant to satisfy her.

"Is the upcoming battle troubling your sleep?" - she asked, and suddenly her lips were on his neck, kissing him softly.

"Yes, my Queen, deeply" - Antony replied, "But your hands are working a very powerful magic". He let his head fall back onto Cleopatra's shoulder, hoping to concentrate her attention on him instead of his letter on the table. He softly grabbed her wrist, moving her hand from his shoulder to his chest, and lower under his toga. He felt her smiling in the crook of his neck.

"Would some attention from me ease you into our goddess Nwt's arms?" - she asked, her voice as sweet as dates.

"It certainly would" - Antony replied, and in one final move to distract her, he pushed his chair back and stood up to kiss her. The sudden movement caused the the small table to wobble, and Antony's stylus fell with a tinning sound. He couldn't but watch helplessly as Cleopatra's eyes travelled from the fallen pen up to the parchment on the table, narrowing as soon as they landed on his letter.

"Have you been writing?" - she asked, falsely naïve.There was nothing Antony could do to prevent what was about to happen. He gritted his teeth, waiting, his mind racing in an attempt to find an explanation as Cleopatra took the parchment and unrolled it, reading quickly.

"What is this?" - she looked up at him with a deadly stare in her black eyes, "This Alba... Alba, the Gaul courtesan of Rome?".

Antony put on his best smile, faking amusement and shaking his head.

"Yes, my Queen, exactly, Alba of Lena's scholae" - he said, "And my old lover". Cleopatra's eyes flashed with rage at his words, but Antony raised his hands in surrender.

"I am only using her, my Queen, to obtain information about our enemy" - he explained calmly, "Her futile feelings for me have proved invaluable since I left Rome". The artful disdain in Antony's voice seemed to convince Cleopatra, but she kept looking at him with suspicion.

"Of all the spies you could have in Rome, of all the men who would be ready to serve you, why her?" - Cleopatra's voice ringed with contempt when referencing Alba, and for a split second Antony had to clench his teeth in a surge of rage. Then his lips melted into his usual, cool smile, and he stroked Cleopatra's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Because she is no common spy, she is still the most renowned courtesan in Rome" - Antony raised his eyebrows conspiratorially, and Cleopatra smiled for the briefest moment. "She has access to alcoves and bedchambers no spy could ever dream of entering". The queen of Egypt seemed to ponder his words for a few, endless seconds, then she turned, seemingly satisfied but still resentful, walking away from Antony with his letter clutched in her hands.

"However useful she may be, you certainly won't need her help now that we are so close to our victory" - she stated, and with a coy smile she ripped the parchment into pieces, throwing them into the fire pit at the center of the tent.

"Now come, my love, I need my commander to be well-rested for battle".

Antony, seething, looked at her as she crossed her arms and stood waiting for him. He cast a glance at the remaining fragments of his message burning quickly among the embers, noticing just one corner of it had been spared. It now lay on the ground outside the fire pit.

"What are you –" - Cleopatra burst out angrily, but was immediately cut off by the sound of a war horn breaking the silence of the encampment.

"Octavian" - she whispered. "He's here".

A few tense moments passed as the two of them looked at each other, a mix of fear, determination and anger in the eyes of both. Outside, the camp was starting to stir with the clang of metal and shouting in both Latin and Egyptian. Then, the horn sounded again, calling for blood.

"One way or another, this battle will show me the extent of Rome's power" - Cleopatra said, and without another word, she left the tent in a cloud of linen. Antony wasted no time trying to interpret her sentence, which sounded a lot like a prophecy. There was no way he could remove the suspicion from her mind now, so he rushed to pick up the surviving scrap of parchment and his stylus. Without thinking, he dipped the pen in a pool of spilt ink on the table and wrote as fast as he could.

«Alba, live for me

V.XIV.L»

And then he was outside, paper in hand, shouting the first orders and calling for his armour as the black expanse of the sky slowly started to turn into the colour of lavender flowers. As soon as his servants were next to him he turned to one of them.

"Fetch me legionary Lucius" - he commanded.

Ante diem iv Nonas Septembres XXXI

(September 2nd, 31 b.C.).

Bay of Actium, Greece.

The sky roared with thunder, but it was almost inaudible among the sounds of battle. The waves clashed heavily against the ship's hull, making it rock dangerously as the battle raged on.

Antony couldn't tell how long they had been fighting. The sky had turned a deep, ominous grey, soaked with rain. Standing on the deck of his ship, higher than any other, he could see a landscape of destruction. Wood splintered under the blows of catapults, the water was stained red and everywhere he looked he saw fire, smoke, death. The battle was even, no side was prevailing, and Antony had to make a move to turn it in his favour. Lightning made armours and weapons shine for a split second, and as he was about to order the ballistae to shoot, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, raising his sword in one swift movement, just in time for it to clash with the blade that was about to sink into his neck. One of Octavian's legates now stood in front of him, and Antony gritted his teeth. They had managed to board the ship, probably on a small boat that had passed unseen. A short distance away from him on the deck, he saw his soldiers start to fight with a small squadron of enemies. With a growl, Antony took his sword away from the lock and ducked out of the way, letting the legate stumble forwards. The two of them settled into a fighting stance, swords at the ready. The first drops of rain started to fall, but he was focused on his task.

"You and your Egyptian whore will never win this war, Marc Antony" - the legate snarled in an attempt to distract him. Antony couldn't help but smile. The man clearly believed Cleopatra was the woman he was fighting for. He silently repeated his vow to return to Alba, then, without answering the legate's provocation, he attacked with a cry.

The deck was becoming slick with rain, but Antony couldn't let the fight distract him from commanding the fleet for too long. He dealt a series of vicious blows to the legate's defense, taking advantage of his arrogance and growing tiredness. Whenever he saw an opportunity, he aimed his blade at the exposed skin of his arms and legs in order to weaken him.The legate stepped back from him to catch his breath and Antony smiled at his upcoming victory. He was about to attack once again, when suddenly an enormous wave hit the side of the ship, throwing him off-balance. The legate used his distraction to go back to the offense, and before Antony could stop him, he tore a long gash on his thigh. The pain was blinding for a second, but Antony managed to block the following blow to his throat. He furiously responded, finally locking the legate's sword with his and making it fly from his hand, beyond the railing and into the raging sea below. Before his enemy could draw another weapon, Antony pointed his sword at the legate's neck, ready to slit it open. He was about to let the blade run, when the man's smile stopped him.

"You have been betrayed, Marc Antony" - the legate smirked, "Octavian knows all of your strategies. You cannot win". Antony pressed the blade further into the man's neck, and as he swallowed in fear, a drop of blood ran down its surface. Antony's mind travelled faster than lightning, trying to figure out who could betray him among the few who knew his strategy for the battle.

"Quintus Dellius" - the legate preceded his thoughts, "He came begging for Octavian's favour, offering you on a silver pl...".

His last words were choked by Antony's sword, and the legate's lifeless body dropped to the floor. Blood spilled over the deck, mingling with Antony's, that was dripping thickly down his leg. He looked around frantically for more enemies, but his soldiers were gradually taking back control over the ship. He allowed himself to wince in pain and look down at his wound. It was long, deep and needed mending, but he'd suffered worse over the years. He tore a strip of linen from the garments under his armour, and gritted his teeth as he tied it tightly around his thigh. The blood flow was momentarily stopped by the cloth. It would be enough to get by for some time.

"Ballistae! At the ready!" - he shouted, trying to bring back order in his fleet, but as he looked around he saw his soldiers look at him first, disoriented, then out at the sea. The battle seemed to have died down momentarily.

"Domine!" - one soldier turned towards Antony, then went down on one knee in deference.

"Speak, legionary, what is it?"

"Domine, her Majesty the Queen of Egypt has ordered a retreat!".

Antony looked up, and that was when he heard the sound of the horns. His heart dropped as if it was suddenly as heavy as his sword. The Egyptian side of the fleet was hoisting the sails and putting out the oars, and the first ships were already starting to drift out of the bay. Antony rushed to the bow, trying not to show his limp. Once there, he saw Cleopatra's ship sailing away in front of him. The horns sounded the retreat once again, and Octavian's forces stopped the attacks completely, waiting for orders. For a few moments an eerie silence reigned over the bay, only the crashing sound of the waves on wood to break it.

Cleopatra turned around and locked eyes with Antony. Her look was full of disdain, only colored by the smallest hint of regret. Her words echoed in his mind. One way or another, this battle will show me the extent of Rome's power.Then, she turned her back to him and looked ahead. With a small motion of her hand she ordered for the oarsmen to start rowing, then disappeared below deck.

Antony looked around... Helpless. All he could see were damaged ships and tired, wounded, dead soldiers. Not even the best strategy could possibly turn that into a victory.

The battle was lost.

Rome was lost.

Everything was lost, and he would soon be captured.

TO BE CONTINUED

Taglist: @ritachacha @thatcatlady0716 @missameliep @goddesskrystaljung @storyofmychoices @tacohead13 @gonewithpersephone @winchesterwolves @isometimesplaychoices @kay-ali @why-am-i-eeyore @princess-geek

#acor marc antony #marc antony x mc #choices marc antony #marc antony fic #marc antony #acor fanfic #acor choices #acor antony #choices acor

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lonelypond · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap, Ch. 9

NicoMaki, NozoEli, Love Live, 2.6K 9/?

Summary: Maki is on a mission; Nico is on the job.

Car Culture

Dia was crying. Maki groaned. Why wasn’t Raye...oh, no Raye. With a curse, Maki kicked off her blanket, catapulted out of bed, grabbing a robe to throw on, feet awkwardly groping for slippers. A message blinking on her muted phone. Nico. At 5 a.m.

N: Hope you and Dia have a good day. Nico’s going to be so busy ε= ٩(●❛ö❛)۶

N: But Maki will be so impressed when Nico’s video’s done.

No kiss emoji, no hearts, no...Nico-ness...a wail from Dia. Maki had no time to mope. Or make up. She had a growing, growling, grumpy daughter demanding all her attention.

###

“Maki, calm down.” Rin leaned back against the arm of her couch, sending her calmest mood at Maki.

“It’s been two and a half days, Rin. Dia doesn’t want to eat anything, keeps asking for Nico, who’s too busy to answer her damn phone, and I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE LILO AND STITCH.”

Rin could see Maki pacing, kicking the rug that was at the center of the cabin’s main room. Dia was probably napping, like Tora. Maki needed to nap more. “Calm down, Maki. I’ll drive up there. Why are you in Wisconsin anyway? Where’s Raye?”

“Can you watch Dia?” Maki had no volume control. Rin grimaced, rubbing her ear.

“Is that Maki?” Hanayo stuck her head in, “Can you ask her what Nico’s new…”

Rin made a slashing gesture to head off Hanayo’s question. Hanayo pouted. Rin walked to the door, gently pushed Hanayo one step away, and closed the door.

“Maki, are you all right to drive?”

“Of course, I’m all right to drive.”

“But you sound so angry.”

“You’ve known me for more than a decade, Rin. When has anger interfered with anything?”

Rin could check off a huge list of times. But that would not calm Maki down. “So you’re going to see Nico?”

“Yeah, there’s this huge party we got invited to. ” Maki was now moderating her volume.

But Maki’s declaration had kicked Rin into red zone worried mode. “You’re going to a huge party. Because of Nico. Do you know anyone else who’ll be there?”

“Honoka will be there.”

Rin blinked. Maki and Honoka parties were a legendary recipe for disaster. Honoka’s impulsiveness brought out Maki’s idgaf core principle. Mix in alcohol and...

“I just want to talk to someone taller than my knee, Rin.” Maki sounded desperate.

“We’re talking. I’m taller than your knee.” Rin fell back on the couch. This was bad.

Maki’s voice softened. “Please, just watch Dia for me for a couple of days. She really misses Tora.”

“So you’re meeting Nico there?” That wouldn’t be so bad.

“Probably, sure, I don’t know the exact details yet.”

“I’m worried about you, Maki, you sound really upset. And you and Honoka and parties...”

Maki didn’t let Rin go drag out her history. “Rin, just please…”

“What?”

“Take care of my daughter.” Maki was tapping on something, probably unconsciously, Rin could hear the vibrations. “Nico’s upset because my parents sent me to Wisconsin, Nico likes parties, I REALLY miss Nico and…” Maki sounded nervous, Rin knew how reluctant her friend was to discuss anything related to dating and sex, “that disconnect is starting to happen.”

“So meet Nico somewhere and…”

“Rin, I am driving to Chicago, I am changing into a sexy dress, I am going to a party, I am going to down a couple of shots of something, and I am going home with my girlfriend.”

Rin sighed, “We’ll talk when you get here. Just please drive carefully. For me. And Dia.”

“Of course, I will.” Maki exhaled, “Thanks, Rin.”

“I’m your bestie, Maki.”

Maki laughed, “See you soon.”

Rin hoped five hours driving would wear Maki out enough to be reasoned with.

###

Nico couldn’t slump yet. Fourteen hours on the set, the crew were getting ready for the big stunt, Cocoro was confirming the details of something with the director, and Umi was handing Nico a bottle of electrolyte solution, a bright enough green to wake Nico up.

“Start with that.” Umi frowned, “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Thanks, Umi.”

“When does your tour start?”

“Too soon,” Nico swallowed a cough.

“It is essential to allow yourself a chance to recover physically from the kind of exertion you are experiencing.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

“I’m sure Maki would say the same.”

“She’s not my doctor either. She doesn’t know anything about this kind of day.” Nico chugged the entire bottle.

Umi seemed genuinely puzzled. “If you don’t talk about your work, what do you talk about?”

“Nico doesn’t remember, it’s just kind of a tired sexy blur. Maki’s surprisingly....”

Umi didn’t have to frown. Her entire posture screamed displeasure at Nico’s cavalier comment.

“Sorry. Nico just misses Maki.” Nico tossed the bottle into the recycling barrel, “We’ve been talking about our pasts. Talking about the present gets us to Dia and…”

Nico’s phone pinged. Maki’s ringtone. “Hang on a sec.” Nico switched to full charm mode, Umi didn’t know where she found the energy. “Hey, sexy.”

“Nico, you have to come here, now.” A shrill, panicky voice.

“Who is this? Where’s Maki?”

“In the shower.”

“Who is this?”

Umi was surprised by the anger in Nico’s voice.

“It’s Rin, you know, Maki’s bestie.”

Nico could feel her forehead clench. “Is Maki okay? Is something wrong with Dia? Why are you on her phone.”

“Cause I don’t have your number on mine, duh. You have to come here. Now.”

NIco sagged, leaning against a wall, “Okay, Rin, where do you want Nico to go? Wisconsin?”

“Nah, Maki’s at me and Kayo-chin’s house.”

That was news to Nico. When and why had that happened? Nico sighed. She needed more than electrolytes and sugar to deal with this.

Rin continued. “Maki wants to go to this big party, to meet you, but it’s a Honoka party and whenever Maki goes to a Honoka party in this mood, there’s tequila and…”

“How can Maki meet Nico if Nico isn’t going to the party? Nico is working.” Nico flung out a hand as if to show Rin everything and everyone on the set.

“Oh, she won’t like that.” Rin sounded sad.

“Hang on a sec.” Nico put her hand over the mic, “Was Honoka Maki’s college roommate?”

Umi nodded, “Briefly, why?”

“Just learning some more Maki facts…”

Rin’s loud chirp called Nico’s attention back to her phone. “So you’ll take Maki to the party. I’ll tell Maki I ordered her a ride. It’ll be a good surprise.”

Nico wanted to punch the wall. “Nico can’t pick up Maki. Nico has to finish filming a dance, crash a car, rescue a dangerous damsel, and save the world.”

“But what am I gonna do, Nico?” A whine.

“Tell Maki to skip the party and call me later. For pizza or something, Nico knows a place.” And that was as much help as Rin was getting from Nico. Maki was an adult, she could make her own choices. Nico chose to follow through on her responsibilities.

Call ended, Nico slid the mute button over and tossed her phone into her bag. “And now Nico blows everybody away.”

Umi nodded, already going down her mental checklist for Nico’s upcoming stunt. “Make sure the safety harness is tight. I’ll go over all the fastenings.”

“You’re just fas-cinated by Nico Ni.” Nico bounced into her pose.

Umi stared at Nico, then quirked an eyebrow, “That tired, huh?”

Lowering her hands, Nico giggled, which lightened the weight, “Yeah, I guess so.”

###

“Is my ride here yet, Rin? Did Dia get to sleep? I still have to dry my hair.” Maki, a towel slung over her head, dressed in a clinging lilac to near black ombre swing dress. Rin grabbed Maki, forcing her into a seat.

“What the hell, Rin?” Pulling off the towel, Maki glared.

Rin had her hands on her hips, her expression serious, finger wagging at Maki’s nose. “You’re grounded, Maki. No parties.”

Maki stood, looming over Rin, staring down at her oldest friend. “I’ll say it again, Rin, what the hell?”

“Nico’s not going to that party. You’re in a foul mood and you’ll just get in trouble. You know how you get.”

“You got really boring.” Maki pushed Rin back.

Rin shook her head, “No. I’m a mom. In a relationship. And so are you. And Nico’s a real person with feelings and a stunt car crash to do…”

Maki pulled Rin back, lifting the shorter woman off her feet, nose to nose, “What do you mean, stunt car crash?”

“Nico said she had to” Rin concentrated, “Crash a car, rescue a girl, save the world.”

Maki dropped Rin and glanced at the nearest clock, it was after 9 p.m. “She’s still working? She stared at 5 a.m.”

“You work crazy shifts.”

“I’m used to it…” Maki tapped Rin on the shoulder, “How do you know so much about Nico?”

“I called her to tell her to take you to the party. And she said she had to crash a car.’ Rin inhaled, her chartreuse eyes determined.“You need to communicate better with Nico if you want a successful relationship like me and Kayo-chin, Maki.”

Maki sagged into the couch, head in her hands. Rin was practicing her parent of a teenager moves and Maki did not appreciate it. “Where is she?”

RIn shrugged.

Maki grabbed her phone, hitting Nico’s number. No reply. Then she tried Cocoro.

“Cocoro Yazawa. Can I help you?”

“This is Maki. Let me talk to Nico.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, my sister left no instructions about being interrupted.”

“Where are you?” Maki felt her jaw clench.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nishikino, but the set location is secret.”

“Tell me…”

Cocoro’s curt, professional tones cut off Maki’s snapped demand, “I will let Nico Ni know you called, Dr. Nishikino.”

And a ringtone. Maki wanted to throttle Cocoro. But that wouldn’t be any way to make inroads with Nico. Umi, Nico had hired Umi, Umi would...no, Kotori would, Kotori could be persuaded to share information. Umi’s integrity was unbreachable by anyone not Kotori.

###

“Hey, is Nico coming home tonight?” Nozomi slid next to Eli on the couch, wearing Eli's robe, her hair loose and luxurious.

Eli put down her Atlantic magazine, “I don’t know. Why?”

“I want you to stop pretending you’re mad at me and sleep in my bed.” Nozomi bit at Eli's shoulder.

Eli snorted, “How romantic.”

“I’m not offering romantic.” Nozomi took the magazine out of Eli’s hand, then grabbed Eli’s wrists to pull her closer, green eyes alit with dangerous urges. “You have needs. I have wants. And really really graphic fantasies.” Nozomi’s tongue licked from Eli’s ear to her...

“NOZOMI!”

“Text Nico, tell her to sleep in her own bed. Unless you want her to know that you…”

Eli put both her hands on Nozomi’s face, pulled her beloved, impossible wife in close, and drifted into a slow promise of the deepest of kisses, the only way to stop the avalanche of provocation. Then she grabbed her phone.

###

Nico winced, her ears still ringing. The boom had blasted through her hearing protection and her head had maybe, maybe contacted the crash foam. She couldn’t exactly remember the sequence of events. The helmet had helped, but pulling it off dramatically had been immediately followed by a wobbly tilt into the car. Nico was now taking a minute, eyes closed, to rest before checking if the world really was spinning.

“NICO!”

The crash must have messed her up, she thought she heard Maki’s voice. Bad enough she’d nearly messed up the timing because she kept wondering if Maki had gone to Tsubasa’s party and how many shots of tequila had she downed. Maybe Nico had been thinking about tequila so much Nico was sympathetic tipsy.

“Nico?”

A hand on Nico’s arm, with a grip that was going to add to Nico’s bruises. Arnica gel, entire tube, maybe Nico could find a sympathetic dancer who had massage skills. Nico opened her eyes. Maki, face flushed, gorgeous eyes weary and worried, a killer ombre shaded dress clinging to curves that made Nico instantly more alert. Maki smiled at Nico, then opened her sling bag and handed Nico a menu.

“Read the prices to me, Nico.”

After a couple of minutes, Nico realized what was odd. “You carry pizza menus around with you?”

“Just read the numbers, Nico.” Maki’s beautiful long fingers traced a pattern on the paper.

Maki had knelt, staring up into Nico’s face. It was all weird. “What kind of a date is this? Quizzes first?”

“It’s a concussion test, Nico. Eye movement is one of the biggest disruptions.”

“You like….” Nico wondered why she’d started that sentence. “Eyes, Nico’s eyes.”

Maki bit her lip, nervous, it was sexy adorable, and Nico would have given up a platinum record to not be feeling nauseous.

Umi appeared next to Maki. “I checked the footage. There was definite head contact. Cocoro’s sending everyone home. I’m glad you’re here, Maki.”

“Nico, can you read me the prices of a couple of appetizers, three pizzas, and a dessert.” Maki’s voice was very calm, but Umi noticed her hands trembling.

“Clever.” Umi whispered.

“Just order whatever you want, Maki.” Nico let the menu drop, “Nico will pay.” Nico leaned back onto the car, Maki and Umi with a quick glance agreed to split and support Nico from either side.

“C’mon Nico, I’m taking you home.” Maki said quietly.

Nico frowned, “Nah, Eli’s right?”

“Are you sure she shouldn’t go to an ER?” Umi pulled her phone out, ready to hit 911.

“I’ll take her if her symptoms worsen.” Maki tapped the car hood, considering. “I want to avoid noise and people.”

“Hey, Sis!” Cocoro raced up, “The director wants to talk to you about tomorrow.”

“Nico won’t be here tomorrow.” Maki snapped.

Cocoro shoved between Maki and Nico, “You have no authority here, Ms. Nishikino. Nico handles everything.”

Maki spoke deliberately. “There is a high likelihood that Nico has a concussion. She will need to recover before she does anything else.”

Nico smiled and hugged her sister, “Hey, Cocoro! Where’s the car?”

“We can still shoot some of the background scenes tomorrow, Cocoro, if I remember the storyboard correctly. I’ll help you figure out who we need.” Umi pulled Cocoro to the side, trusting Maki to support Nico.

“But Tsubasa’s scheduled…”

“Tsubasa…” Nico raspberried, “can go away.”

“Is there a problem with her cameo? Cocoro sounded concerned.

“The problem is your sister has a concussion.” Maki put her arm around Nico’s waist, Nico leaned in to her, “I’m taking her home.”

“To your place?” Cocoro relaxed, “Good. Eli called me, Nico. She said she needed some wife time.”

Nico didn’t appear to be listening.

Maki did not want to deal with her parents. “We’ll just go to her house. I know the address.”

Cocoro frowned, “But there’ll be…”

Umi decided the matter, “That’s a good idea, Maki. Nico gets dropped off sometimes on the block behind and sneaks through her neighbor’s backyard. I suggest that.”

“Okay.” Maki kept careful watch of Nico, “Text me the address.”

“I’ll drive you. They’ll be watching for your car.”

“This one’s got Wisconsin plates. No one’s seen it.” Maki pulled a beanie out of her bag and pulled it over her red hair. She handed another one to Nico, “Let’s be spies.”

Nico stared at the hat, as if unsure what to do with it. Cocoro, after a glance at Maki, stepped forward and pulled it over Nico’s carefully coiffed apocalypse hair. “Dr. Nishikino’s gonna take good care of you, sis.”

“Nico doesn’t need a doctor.” Grumpy, hunched Nico detached from Maki to lean against the car.

“All right, Nico, I won’t be just a doctor.” Maki blinked, feeling tears in the corner of her eyes, “But buy me that pizza. For our date.”

Nico nodded, “Okay.”

“Let’s go pick it up.”

Nico stood, Maki offered her hand, Nico reached for it, missing the first time, “I’ll drive.”

Maki hummed.

A/N: Good and sad things the past week, hope you are well.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Yazawa Cocoro #rin hoshizora #llsif #nozoeli #ayase eli #tojo nozomi #sonoda umi #parent trap #head injury #concussion

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onestowatch · 4 years

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Aidan Gallagher Has No Limits [Q&A]

Photo By Allan Zaki

There are many facets to Aidan Gallagher. On the surface, his scene stealing prowess as the co-star of The Umbrella Academy has catapulted him to an immense level of popularity on a piece of prime real estate amongst Hollywood’s brightest young A-List celebrities. But beneath the surface of this 17-year-old actor lies a multi-instrumentalist. An independent singer-songwriter who doesn’t seem to care about the mainstream attention that his music may garner in the future, only the substance for which it can bare. Musically, his original compositions like “I LOVE YOU” and “4TH of July” draw early comparisons to acoustic-pop artists like Jack Johnson and Passenger. While lyrically some of his introspective words jump off the paper as if they were indie pop-ballads written by singers like Jason Mraz or Aqualung back in 2003.

For Aidan Gallagher the musician, the year 2020 began with a sold-out show at the Troubadour in his hometown of Los Angeles, California. This live performance on January 6th was supposed to be his introduction to the tour life. In fact, a couple weeks later, he even announced that he would be playing a live set at SXSW in March. But…just as quickly as the Neon Lights Tour began, it came to an abrupt end due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Although his first ever headlining tour has been temporarily delayed, it hasn’t stopped Aidan Gallagher from publishing fresh content for his listeners along with a series of new music videos.

There are many facets to the year 2020. On the surface the pandemic this year alone has derailed the plans of some of the world’s most talented independent recording artists. But when you’re an intuitive songwriter like Aidan Gallagher, times like these can provide the backdrop for some of the most emotional compositions that you may create.

We caught up with Aidan Gallagher to talk about his emotional subject matter, his dream collaborations and his future plans to balance his music endeavors with a budding acting career.

Ones to Watch: With all of the success that you've enjoyed over the course of the past two years, you've become one of the most recognized actors in young Hollywood. But now you're starting to get a lot more attention as a recording artist. In fact, you currently have four music videos that have garnered over 1 million views on YouTube. Those are very impressive feats to have accomplished without the support of a major record label. What was your personal goal when you first started releasing music? And are you happy with the reception that your music videos have received so far?

Aidan Gallagher: There was always less of a defined personal goal in terms of a release schedule other than just to make great music and put it out there and if people enjoy it, that’s really gratifying. I’ve always made music as a means of working out emotions and because it’s one of the most rewarding hobbies one can have.

Two singles that you've released this year are "I LOVE YOU" and "Blue Neon." Lyrically, they're both heartbreaking tracks that teenagers can relate to. But you also reference some introspective experiences that many adults in their 20s or 30s can relate to. What inspired the lyrics to these songs?

I've often found that the melodic structure and the micro-tonal characteristics of a riff are what inspire the emotional landscape of a song. When I hear music, I see colors and shapes and textures that I couldn't necessarily describe to another person. I let that imagery inform my emotional state and the subject matter of the song. The lyrics always coincide with this. Sometimes the lyrics relate more to the music than myself and other times they are stripped word for word from my own personal experience. Either way the lyrics always come from an honest place. I don't see how you could create anything of value without that.

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“4th of July" is a Folk song that pulls on the heart strings of your listeners. The date is very specifically addressed in your lyrics, so why did you choose to release the music video on August 1st instead of the actual day of July 4th?

Thank you! I’m really proud of that song. It brought together a lot of what I’ve been learning about music production and engineering. It gave me a chance to show what I can do. A lot of people have asked about the timing of videos and our team has found through the advice of some very wise music industry people and just trial and error that it’s best to release a listening only video first. I like the idea that people will listen to the work before they start dissecting the visuals. I want them to have their own interpretation and not necessarily the visual scenery I put on it.

Of all the musicians and bands that have released music videos in 2020, which ones have inspired your imagination the most, when it comes to creating your own videos?

I often find myself influenced by a variety of artists across musical genres. To give an example or two, I really love what Jacob Collier and Finneas are doing with their videos. But at the same time, some of my favorite videos are the ones that are stripped down, and the artist is just performing their song in a studio or on a stage. I think it puts a beautiful focus on the music and the emotional texture of the song.

The 2020 Blue Neon Tour was going to be your first heading tour, but it was cancelled back in January due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Can you tell us a little bit about what you had in store for this tour?

Well, I was lucky that I got a chance to kick it off at the Troubadour here in Los Angeles. Just that alone was pretty cool. I had a full tour planned to go around the country and then travel to international cities and do meet-and-greets with my fans and really connect. I was really looking forward to my first SXSW performance, so that was a really hard pill to swallow when they cancelled the festival. But all things considered, I’ve been incredibly lucky in my life and my little plans pale in comparison when you look at the state of the world right now.

How many songs have you recorded since the pandemic shutdowns began? And will you be releasing an EP or debut album anytime soon?

“I Love You” and “4th of July” were released this year but everything else I’m doing is currently in a state of flux. I’ve definitely got the songs but it’s a balance of finding the time to put into recording them. I have a large catalog that I’m really proud of that will be coming out one at a time as I can get to it. With (Covid-19) it’s really slowed down my ability to record because I have to engineer everything myself. With “4th of July” I had 3 different engineers on rotation come to my house to work so it kept me working on a strong schedule and we knocked it out fast. When (Covid-19) put everyone in quarantine I lost that team and schedule. We’ll get it back though.

youtube

Who would your dream collaborators be for a full-length studio album and why?

Wow, I mean, if I was ever lucky enough to work with any of my idols, I’d be over the moon. If I got to collaborate with another artist for an entire album it would probably be on a production or writing level. I’d love to work with John Mayer, Finneas, Charlie Puth or Ed Sheeran.

If you could pick any film director to direct the first music video from your debut album who would it be and why?

Honestly, I don’t think in terms of music videos. I only think about music. Once a song is produced then I have the luxury to get into the ideas for a video. I do have some raw visual impressions in my mind of what the song means to me but it’s hard to say until the song is done. Though there are many film directors that I’d love to work with as an actor such as Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarantino, Damien Chazelle and the list goes on and on and on.

We heard that you're a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador. Tell us about your work with the UN. What made you want to get involved with their efforts to stop Illegal wildlife trade? And why has it been so important for you to shed more light on the animal agricultural industry?

I can’t begin to tell you what a privilege it has been to be able to magnify my concerns about saving our planet through their channels. The environmental crisis is the largest and the most complex problem we face in the world. I have always wanted to use the platform I lucked into as an actor to showcase that. It all started with not being able to go surfing after a rain and that led to many realizations about carbon emissions and the role of the animal agriculture industry in those emissions. I don’t want to seem preachy to people or judge anyone’s choices, but I do want to spread awareness as I learn from the world’s top scientists. The truth is that if we don’t take aggressive action in the next few years, my generation isn’t going to have a viable future in a collapsed environment. The UN is calling the next ten years the "Decade of Action.” As individuals, there are a lot of small steps people can take that make a huge difference collectively such as “Meatless Mondays”, cutting down on single use plastic and cash voting for the environment with your daily spending.

You launched a five-part Q&A series on your YouTube channel back in September. Most of the questions from your fans were centered around your role as Number Five on The Umbrella Academy. Are you planning on creating any new content for your channel that primarily focuses on your musicianship and artistry as a songwriter?

I have a lot of plans for all kinds of content and ways to stay engaged with fans and it all makes me really happy. I’ve been doing music performances for my Patreon members every week, and music performing has always given me happiness. I bet a lot of performers are experiencing depression once they lost the ability to tour. Patreon brought back that happiness to me. Not every person who follows me is into my music, so it’s just for those who are and who would come to a show if I were touring in their city. I try to balance my time between the various things I’m passionate about; however, the past few months have really been about promoting the vote.

You play the guitar and piano. In addition to singing, producing and engineering. Take us back to the early stages of your timeline as a musician. Were you a self-taught musician or did you have instructors and mentors help you develop your skills?

Well, when you're first starting out you generally work on covers to develop your skills with your instrument while also making it fun. Once you can play the chords and you have an understanding of how your instrument works, you can learn things at your leisure. I started off taking lessons but eventually I stopped due to production and had to let my ear guide my learning. That's also when I started writing songs. I never took lessons for songwriting, I just watched YouTube. In particular I remember John Mayer’s seminar at Berklee College of Music to be a defining influence on my methodology for songwriting. As for producing and engineering, I'm completely self-taught and rely only on YouTube research and my own musical instinct to create.

Most of your songs could be categorized as Pop-Rock. What other genres of music would you like to incorporate into your sound?

I like all kinds of music, so I’m not necessarily trying to find a genre to incorporate but I guess you get influenced by whatever you are listening to. Genres are so blended these days, and I really think music operates on more of a spectrum than it does on individual categorizations of itself.

Who are your top five Pop-Rock artists/bands of all-time? And why?

There’s way more than five! But since 5 is my lucky number I’ll try to narrow it down but it’s not in any order. Also know that this list is characterized by how I define Pop-rock. My Chemical Romance, The White Stripes, David Bowie, Queen and Foo Fighters.

We noticed that you filmed season two of The Umbrella Academy in Toronto. How do you think the experience of living in that city helped shape you as a songwriter and artist?

I think in order to write about life you have to live life. At this point in my life, I don't at all consider myself worldly as I simply haven't lived long enough and because of that I find that a lot of my music is introspective, and my songs often feel like the places I've written them. By putting yourself in new environments, I think it pulls new ideas out of you. Travel broadens the mind.

Hypothetically speaking, if you had to choose between winning a Grammy Award as a solo artist or a winning Academy Award with the entire cast of The Umbrella Academy, which option would you pick?

Awards aren’t why I make music or act. I don’t think about them. I just love music and acting. Any part I can play in those fields brings me happiness and I'd love to experiment with the different aspects of those art forms. Initially I got into acting because I wanted to be a director. I also loved listening to music, but I had no idea I would be a musician until I started taking piano lessons.

What’s the plan for your music career moving forward? Do you plan to continue to release material independently or would you prefer to be signed to a major record label?

It was a hard decision, but right now it’s best for me to remain an independent artist as I’m growing my music and balancing an acting career. I had really exciting offers from major labels, but they all want me to drop acting and tour full time. I also really enjoy having creative control over my songs. For the past couple of years, I’ve mostly been writing and because of that, I’ve built up a huge catalog of music to produce when I get the time. After that I’m really looking forward to being able to perform more and on tour. For the time being, I’m really excited about catching up with what I’ve written so that I’ll finally be in a place where I can write a song and begin recording it the next day.

#Aidan Gallagher #Pop #Rock #4th of July #I LOVE YOU #Umbrella Academy

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lovehotelreservation · 4 years

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Play Me Again

Summary: It was your dream realized. Your voice on the radio, top billing on countless music festival line-ups, a sea of people singing your lyrics. You did all you could to make this wish a reality.

Even at the expense of the success of the very musicians who served as your back-up band.

A hushed secret that they would never make you forget. Band AU

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Mad Burnish (Lio, Gueira, Meis)

DO U EVER JUST WATCH CHARLI XCX'S SNL PERFORMANCE OF "BOOM CLAP" AND SUDDENLY HEAR "MAHARI YUWARE" IN THE BACK OF UR HEAD

BECAUSE I DID AND NOW THIS PIECE IS HERE

TY I HOPE U ENJOY

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The stage was where a musician’s soul was meant to be bared.

And certainly, there was no better place to perform than at 4Fest, the premiere summer music festival hosted by the renowned Foresight Records, the record label owned by--and named for--acclaimed entrepreneur Kray Foresight. The legacy he built as a prominent pop music producer made him a renowned name across the world, countless smash hit singles and awards under his belt. It wasn’t long until he had the idea to start up his own record label, in addition to making investments in prosperous tech start-ups and becoming a brand ambassador to a multitude of luxury brands.

And given that he was the man who scouted you out, helped elevate you from your origin as a struggling musician, and ultimately made your dream career a reality, you knew you had to go all out for this performance.

Especially since you knew he was watching you from some lounge reserved for only the elites in the music industry and beyond.

After all, with the specially tailored dress meant for you alone delivered to your hotel room the night before, you knew he would be watching.

Much like how your back-up band kept their gaze on you throughout your set.

To your fans and the mainstream audience, your back-up band was just scenery.

To the underground indie rock scene, however, the trio were known as Mad Burnish.

Lio as the lead singer and guitarist, Meis on bass, and Gueira on drums.

For the longest time--ever since they were signed to Foresight Records--their mainstream debut album had been long in wait. Interviews and updates about the project ceased around the time you were suddenly on the forefront of new music trends--up until Lio announced on the band’s social media that they were taking a break from production on the album to instead expand their creative horizons by helping you--their fellow labelmate--as your touring band.

The update was meant to calm fans even as Lio’s blood was boiling the moment he sat down to type.

By the contract enforced by Kray, it was either be your ghostwriters and touring band, or risk getting blacklisted from the industry--both mainstream and indie.

The shadowy side of the music business.

Ultimately, you found yourself complicit when Mad Burnish’s debut single was published under your name instead.

Aghast as you were, you didn’t dare push back much or question Kray's decision.

Lio, Meis, and Gueira would never let you forget that.

Here, on the stage in front of thousands of attendees, you opened yourself up with each song you performed.

In interviews and posts online, you always expressed wanting to be open through your music.

But surely, there were some things you couldn’t reveal.

Gueira’s eyes were trained on your ass as his hands slammed his drumsticks down in a pulsing rhythm.

Would you ever let your fans know how he had you squealing that you were a slut for his cum while he was fucking your ass just a few days ago?

Meis looked to be as stoic as ever as his calloused fingers plucked at the strings of his bass, seemingly showing no reaction when you slinked up behind him for an embrace before swaying with him to the music.

It wasn’t likely that you would reveal how often Meis would punish you for your teasing antics during performances with hearty spanks to your ass and stuffing your mouth with his cock.

Passionate as his guitar stylings were, Lio made it look so easy as he played, his voice soon harmonizing with yours for the chorus of the very song that was supposed to catapult Mad Burnish to greater heights.

That bastard Foresight, that annoying loud-mouthed glorified groupie of yours who always showed up to any of your concerts--convenient since he was an EMT who worked festivals often--no matter who was around, you simply belonged to him.

A hateful love, a vengeful possessiveness, he wasn’t sure how to best describe how he felt towards you. But given how, during the recording of your album, he had admonished you for screwing up the melodies that had been meant for his voice by viciously fucking you in the recording booth--how he never allowed a day to go by without somehow reminding you that you compliantly took everything from him, Meis, and Gueira and that you would amend somehow--he wasn’t leaving your life anytime soon.

”Thank you, 4Fest! This was such an honor! I hope you enjoy this last song of mine!”

Gueira, Meis, and Lio all gazed at you.

Would the crowd ever know that on this very stage during the last soundcheck of the day, your mouth had been stuffed full of Gueira’s cock while you were made to take the long length of Meis’s dick in your ass, and the fierce grip of Lio’s hands on your hips had you meeting every single one of his ferocious thrusts?

Most likely never, but that wasn’t going to stop them from showing their ownership of you.

After all, here on the stage, you belonged to the crowd.

Anywhere and everywhere else, you belonged to them.

You should have been aware of this.

And thus was it said wordlessly to you upon the end of your set, expressed by the narrowed look in each man’s eyes before their expressions softened and brightened in the face of a photo op of you all together on the stage.

Since you were finished performing for the day, you were expected to meet with Kray soon, but you had time to spare beforehand.

Or at least, time was made on your schedule as you found yourself hurriedly ushered backstage to your reserved dressing room before you could be approached by Kray’s personal assistant, Biar.

”So, who was this outfit worn for again?”

The dressing room temperature was set at a cool level meant to help artists ease from their post-show energy--nothing too frigid.

But you couldn’t stop shivering.

Certainly, with how much skin your dress was exposing--a tie up front top that offered an ample view of your cleavage and a hem that just barely covered the curve of your ass--you had reason to be cold. But having just performed on the mainstage in front of hundreds of festival attendees on one of the hottest afternoons of the year thus far, you had every reason to still be warm.

And yet you continued to shiver nonetheless.

Because you could never get used to the piercing stare of fuschia eyes and the assertive touch of soft, nimble fingers that somehow resisted callouses despite years of strumming the guitar.

Even watching you tremble before him, Lio stood before you, emanating an authoritative aura that demanded your subjugation, despite your respective roles from his place as your backup guitarist to your position as lead singer.

A title that he once claimed.

That had now since been ripped away to be placed into your hands.

However, two others still firmly believed in and asserted Lio's original authority.

The small but pointed tip of a drumstick nudged against the front of your dress, dragging down to rub over your core through your clothes.

”’Ey--Boss wants an answer, sweetheart.”

You knew you couldn’t dare to break eye contact with Lio. But even without having to look down, you still knew Gueira was crouched before you, probably twirling a drumstick in hand while continuing to tease you with the other, all the while a big and broad grin was stretched across his mouth.

Feeling the prod of his drumstick through the flimsy but expensive material of your dress had your legs trembling, your knees weakening in response. Though, even if Gueira was to bring you to orgasm just by the expert handling of his drumsticks, you wouldn’t be falling to the ground in pleasure any time soon.

Not while the firm grip of Meis’s fingers--calloused, unlike Lio's, from over a decade of playing bass--maintained their ironclad hold on your wrists, keeping your arms raised up in the air. Though he typically carried himself quietly and utterly composed--whether during shows or on stage--you were more than familiar with how aggressive he could get in bed.

”Did you think we were going to let you go to him so quickly?”

Lio's voice was so low and dangerous in tone.

You noticed he didn’t mention Kray by name--a term that was practically forbidden to utter around the three.

But especially by Lio, who reached forward to delicately grasp your jaw, only for his grip to abruptly turn firm, the look in his eyes demanding an answer.

Hesitance was only going to worsen your ability to walk straight later on in the day.

Still holding his gaze with your own, you had yourself meekly remark,

”I wore this for you.”

Gueira smirked, as did Meis.

The serious look on Lio’s face did not ease in the slightest, but he let out an affirming scoff before planting his lips onto yours, dragging you into a kiss, with Gueira and Meis further sinking you into depravity as their hands began to tug and pull on your clothes.

You were going to go to Kray eventually.

You were probably going to link up with that groupie at some point this weekend.

But never were you going to leave them.

Even when the bindings of your contract with the band expired, you would forever belong to them.

#lio fotia #gueira #meis #promare #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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amiandthechaos · 4 years

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fire has no shadow, but you have me

Leo is not hiding this personal moment with a mask of light-hearted comments or jokes. So Nico won't shy away from it, either.

"I'm glad you want to come back." He summons courage harder than it takes him to summon an army of skeletons, and he leans his head on Leo's shoulder.

They remain like that for a while, Leo's hand covering his and Nico's head resting on Leo, and Nico had never felt so safe outside of camp and he wonders if it can last.

It starts with a blinding flash of light. And at this point, Nico has seen enough of those to know that it can't be anything good.

And he couldn't be less prepared for it. He was just lying on the grass under the sun, getting more vitamin D on doctor's orders.

And of course, his doctor is right there next to him. Will insists Nico needs more sun, and Nico begrudgingly agrees because at least his skin color is returning to normal and he sleeps better at night. Not well, but better.

He feels warm and drowsy while Will's voice fills the silence by talking about music and bands. Nico hasn't really had time to listen to music in the last… decade. But he appreciates Will's suggestions, however disconcerting they may be.

And then he feels it. The sun's getting hotter, which doesn't make sense since it was supposed to be going down soon, and when he opens his eyes, it's there.

His senses heighten, every nerve suddenly into overdrive, and Will is already on his feet, hauling him up and dragging him away.

But it's too late, Nico thinks. It's coming way too fast.

He still runs, but not for long before the crash is heard. It's not as big as he imagined. It's not Armageddon, it's not the end of the world, but it is something.

Nico spins around, making Will stumble, but he's glad he did because he immediately recognizes something that makes his heart thud painfully.

A bronze wing.

He breaks free from Will's grip and runs back towards the mess of fire that's still burning in a big pile. Will yells out his name but then he and some others are right behind him, slow realization dawning on all the campers.

Even among the flames and smoke, Nico can see the broken-down body of Festus the dragon.

"Where's Leo?" Will asks and Nico was thinking the same thing but with each passing second his heart sinks more and more. Leo's fireproof, his mind supplies, and still the fear that he might have burnt to a crisp seems far more real.

Nico looks around wildly. "Can't anyone summon water?! Where's fucking Percy Jackson when you need him?!"

Everyone seems to click into motion, moving around to help. Nico focuses back on the fire. Perhaps he can make a hole on the earth below and pull Leo out?

He tries to feel the presence and a more sinister thought enters his mind. Maybe he was never alive. Maybe Festus just brought Leo's body here.

The fire is receding a bit, but it's still hard to see beyond the flames and reflective bronze. A moment later, three different people shout to make room. From the right, Chris Rodríguez and a bunch of dryads are bringing in buckets of water from the lake. From the left, Leo's siblings from the Hephaestus cabin are running with Harley at the front, all dressed up in a full metal welding suit that the others are still trying to attach to him.

And then, from very far away there's Paolo Montes waving a hose.

Harley gets there first, and he would have thrown himself on the fire if Nyssa Barrera hadn't stopped him.

"Wait! The suit is not sealed yet!"

And then it came. Nico gasps and almost stumbles backwards with the force of it and everyone looks at him, alarmed.

But Nico's eyes are fixed on the blazing heat.

The metal rumbles and pieces fall to the floor, and from the very center of Festus' belly, Leo Valdez's head pops up, his hair wild and moving along with the flames.

He looks around at the dozens of shocked faces and finally settles for a toothy grin.

"Hello. Bit hot today, no?"

This time Will had to stop Nico from jumping into the fire and slapping Leo in the face.

Nico had been spending some of his time hanging out in the infirmary since Will was there a lot, teaching healing practices to other campers because, in his words 'With the number of dangerous situations demigods get into, the Apollo cabin can't be the only ones who know basic first aid.'

And now he was there a lot because he was in charge of organising the queue to punch Leo and Leo was there getting patched up.

He had never been very close to Leo. At least not the way he was close to Hazel or even Percy at some point. But over their time aboard the Argo II, they had at least shared some kind of kinship a few times, especially when Nico realized how much of a seventh wheel Leo had been feeling, and how similar that was to how Nico himself felt in that ship. An eight wheel, to be precise.

And by Gods, did Nico want to hate him. He was insufferably obnoxious, always cracking stupid jokes, and with no shame whatsoever. Nico's worst nightmare.

Until Nico saw through all that for what it really was; Leo's way of keeping people at bay. Diametrically opposed to Nico's way, but a way nonetheless.

Plus, a few times Nico had walked in on Leo sleeping curled up next to the engine and it was hard to hate him after that.

"What happened to Calypso?" Nico asks one morning after the first shift of punchers. Leo had just finished explaining everything he went through, the physician's cure, the trip to Ogygia, rescuing the forgotten sorceress.

His face reddens somewhat. "I dropped her off inland in Europe. I think it was Croatia. She um… She wanted to see the world."

Nico doesn't want to push it if Leo's reluctant to discuss it but he had imagined that after all of that he and Calypso would be together.

Leo shrugs and then winces as his left shoulder is still injured from the fall. His skin was thankfully all untouched thanks to his abilities but his clothes all turned to ashes. That was the most awkward part of the rescue. "I get it. She was tied to that island for thousands of years, I can't blame her for wanting to be free and not tied to something or someone else now." He sounds sad, but also braver than Nico had ever seen him. "I promised to rescue her and I'm glad I did."

Nico nodded. He raised his hand, planning to pat Leo's shoulder but regretting it at the last second and landing awkwardly on the pillow next to him. "That's the demigod life."

Leo smiles one of his huge smiles and nudges Nico's hand with his shoulder. "That, and catapulting annoying augurs up in the sky. Tell me again how you launched Octavian up to meet me."

Nico rolls his eyes. "I didn't launch him."

Since communication was still down on all fronts, Leo couldn't let anyone at Camp Jupiter know that he hadn't actually died, so he decided to just make the journey.

Him and a few other campers sat at a table trying to figure out the best method to get him there.

"Festus would take at least a month to rebuild again," Leo sighs, genuinely depressed about the topic. "I can't let the others wait that long for Admiral Valdez's resurrection."

Everyone groans. Leo had been bragging for days about how he was basically the modern version of Jesus of Nazareth.

"What about a jetpack? My design is nearly ready!" Harley exclaims excitedly.

Leo ruffles Harley's hair. "Oh Harley, I'd rather let Zeus zoom me halfway across the globe again. I saw your designs and I think fuel tanks like those would send me on my way to an explosion even I couldn't survive."

"You could take a bus?" Kayla says. "Cheaper than an airplane."

"I will take you."

It almost takes Nico a second to realize the words came out of his mouth, especially when they all look at him like that.

"Nico, are you sure that's a good idea?" Will asks, his golden eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"I shadow-travelled from Europe with a ten-foot statue and two others. I think I can handle Leo from here to California."

"I feel like that was a jab at my stature," Leo says into the silence.

Nico smirks.

The Hephaestus cabin organized a congratulations-for-not-being-dead/going-away campfire for Leo. Nico usually didn't attend campfires, but Will had dragged him to a couple and this one seemed to be more up his alley, with less corny songs and more people making fun of Leo.

Plus, Pollux had appeared with a few bottles of homemade wine and the results were entertaining.

Will was, no surprise, a very touchy drunk, which made Nico uncomfortable but not as much as he would have thought. He lets Will rest his head on his shoulder when he says that the world is spinning.

Leo chugs more wine and tells another joke and people laugh harder even though it makes no sense, and that's when Sherman Yang decides they've all had too much.

"Okay, let's pack it up, people. Leo has a long day tomorrow and we all have target practice."

Some groan, a few giggle, most don't react and just let themselves be dragged away after patting Leo on the back and wishing him luck.

No one tells Leo to leave, perhaps because after helping defeat Gaia, coming back from the dead, rescuing an unrescuable ancient sorceress and then surviving yet another explosion, no one felt like they had much authority over him.

Will, held by Kayla on one side, turns around to look at Nico. "Are you coming?"

Nico looks over at Leo, who chooses that moment to fall backwards from his log. "I think I'll stay and make sure he doesn't die."

Will smiles crookedly. "Aw, you're taking care of someone. I've taught you well."

"Shut up."

Leo manages to sit up and realizes he and Nico are alone, the fire slowly dying between them. "Are you cold? I can make more fire."

He opens his palms towards the flames but Nico rushes over and stops him. "No no. Don't drink and summon fire. Didn't you see the safety video on your first day here? Dionysus had a whole section about wine safety."

Leo snorts a laugh. "No. When I arrived everything was very rushed. I never met Mr. D"

Nico nods. Leo must have heard that name from Percy. Nico wonders if Percy got the letter they sent telling him that Leo was alive. It was Will's idea to use regular mortal mail, but even being in the same estate as Percy wouldn't guarantee that he'll receive the letter. Strange things happened to demigods' correspondence in the postal service.

"You know, this is the first time I drink wine." Leo waves his plastic cup, stained burgundy.

"Really?" Nico asks. "Not even sips as a kid?"

Leo shakes his head and his curls move with it. "Mexican moms don't really believe in that."

Nico had been drinking wine since he was very young. "I always used to have dinner with my family."

"Maybe that's why you're not drunk."

"Or maybe because I'm not eighty pounds and had ten glasses"

"Hey!" Leo protests and then he is silent as he sizes Nico up with a look that makes Nico wish he could blend in with the shadows. "How are you already taller than me? It's not fair."

That makes Nico smile. "Get used to it, Valdez."

They stay in silence for a while longer, which must be a record coming from Leo. He pulls out a small device from his pocket and starts to tinker with it, not even looking at it. He seems thoughtful, as though he's trying to figure out a different device than the one in his hands.

"I heard something from Drew yesterday," Leo says, a little too quiet to be the start of a joke. Nico's heart starts racing. He knew people would talk, and he knew Leo and all his friends would find out eventually, but he never thought Leo would want to talk to him about it.

He presents Nico with his closed fist as if he wanted Nico to bump it and Nico can only frown.

"This is for telling Percy he isn't your type. What a boss move."

It takes a second, but Nico throws his head back and laughs. The first time he's properly laughed in a long time, but it just takes him completely by surprise that this is what Leo has to say on the subject.

He bumps Leo's fist as his laughter dies down and he shakes his head in disbelief.

Leo can't seem to stop smiling, but in this drunk, lazy way that makes him seem a bit more down to earth.

This isn't a mask, Nico thinks.

Leo sways and his shoulder grazes Nico's. "If it makes you feel any better, I get it. Like, who hasn't thought Percy's hot? Like, objectively, you know? They're tall and conventionally attractive and stupidly heroic-"

"They?" Nico asks, not really wanting to interrupt Leo's tirade but confused by his wording.

"Percy and Jason. Everyone has crushes on them, right? And you kind of want to hate them because like, shit man, you look like that and you fly, and you're ridiculously friendly and like noble and stuff? Just stop it. You know? But you can't hate them because they're really nice to you and they don't deserve it. But it's nothing to be ashamed of, you know?"

Nico blinks a few times, Leo's confession of basically having a crush on Jason in particular, hitting him like an electrical shock that left him short-circuited. If Leo was sober he probably wouldn't have said anything, so Nico wonders if he should feel bad for letting Leo say something so personal in this state of vulnerability.

But he doesn't. Because it's the first time someone tells him they understand him and actually give reasons and examples why, not just an empty attempt at empathy. He hopes Leo doesn't regret telling him this.

"They are so stupidly noble. I hate that," Nico says.

Leo stands up on wobbly legs. "Oh look at me I'm the son of a famous, powerful God and I can control the elements and I have light-colored eyes and a dreamy smile. Who am I?"

Nico has to laugh again because Leo is pulling a full-on performance pretending to fly like Jason or raise the sea like Percy and it makes Nico feel lighter than he has in probably years. He can laugh about it now. He can let it go.

Leo stumbles around the fire and even though he'd be fine if he falls in, it still doesn't seem right to let him, so Nico grabs his arm and pulls him away from the danger zone as they both keep laughing.

They sit back down and their knees knock together and Nico doesn't mind.

"Some of that could also describe you," Leo says breathlessly. "Son of a major God. Powerful."

Nico nudges Leo with his arm in acknowledgement. "And you. You can control the elements." He nods towards the fire.

Leo seems relaxed in a way he hadn't seemed to be since he came back.

They remain like that for a while longer, watching the flames get smaller and sitting in comfortable silence. Nico's favorite kind of silence.

"We should probably get some sleep." Nico hates to be the one to say it, but shadow-travelling really is easier when he's rested.

Damn Will. He got inside Nico's head.

Leo lets Nico help him up and then Nico does something that he only does when someone is injured in battle; he wraps one arm around Leo's waist and helps him walk. Leo throws his arm over Nico's shoulders.

As they walk away from the campfire, Leo sighs happily. "Have you ever noticed that fire doesn't have a shadow?"

Nico was right when he thought that travelling with Leo would be less tiring than the last shadow trip he had done.

That didn't mean it was easier.

"Y'all should've told me we'd be coming here." Leo digs into his plate of ribs, sauce all over his face. "I'd've made some reservations."

Nico sends him a death glare. He's good at those.

Leo had decided to adopt a heavy southern accent ever since they landed in Oklahoma instead of Kansas like Nico had been planning. Nico's ears were going to bleed from over-stimulation.

The food was good, though.

Leo inhales deeply and sighs contentedly. "We're so close to Texas, I can feel it."

"We're always close to Texas. That state is inescapable. I think its gravity drew us off course."

Leo pulls out two wet hand towels from his magic pouch- as Nico has started to call it much to Leo's annoyance- and then he warms them up by heating his hands. He has a much more sophisticated control on his fire abilities than Nico remembered.

Leo hands one to Nico while he himself wipes basically his entire face and arms. "Well, we're here now so let's find a spot to sleep tonight. I hope you like camping, Neeks!"

Nico frowns. "You should know I don't. Also, stop it with the Neeks."

Leo smiles. "You have barbecue on your nose."

Nico groans and wipes it off.

They end up finding a not-so-terrible spot to spend the night, but the heat in this Hades-forsaken place was so insufferable that they decided not to use sleeping bags and instead hang hammocks, of which Leo procured two from his magic pouch.

"Why in the world do you have hammocks on hand?" Nico asks as he unsuccessfully attempts to tie his to a tree.

"Hammocks are an incredible feat of engineering. You need fabric and weaving that are strong enough to hold you but not so tough that it's hard to sleep. It minimises your travelling load while maximising sleeping space, and it works on all surfaces because it precisely keeps you away from surfaces." Leo comes over and ties Nico's hammock for him. "It also keeps you away from snakes."

Nico blinks at him. "You have a lot of feelings about hammocks."

"They are perfect and need to be more appreciated."

"I've never actually slept in one."

Leo's eyes seem to light up with fire. "Oh I can't believe you're a hammock virgin!"

"Please don't call it that."

"This is going to be great. Shed all your preconceived notions right now and prepare for the best sleeping experience of your life."

Nico would hardly call swinging in the air the best sleeping experience of his life, but considering the things he's been through, it also could be far, far worse.

Leo is too delighted with the swinging and even pushes off against the tree with his foot to go even faster, his hands busy with a mechanical box he's been tinkering with since West Virginia. The movement is making Nico slightly dizzy so he lies as still as possible until the soft swaying actually feels nice, and it seems to be lulling him to sleep faster than anticipated.

He's almost gone when Leo speaks into the silence.

"Nico?"

"Mm?" He opens his eyes and turns to see Leo still swinging madly, almost nervously, under the orange light of the lantern he hung on a branch above. Thank the Gods they're on different trees or the movement would rock Nico's hammock as well. He also decided to remove his t-shirt, which is fine by Nico because then all the mosquitoes would get Leo instead of him.

"You're fifteen, right?" Leo asks.

"Last I checked."

Another pause. "How did you, um… how did you know?"

It takes Nico's sleepy brain a bit to process the question but it still doesn't make much sense. "How did I know what?"

Leo keeps his eyes on his box. "You know… how did you know you… liked boys?"

Suddenly Nico is as alert as the day Leo came crashing down above them.

Usually, Nico would say something snarky and then refuse to discuss the matter entirely, possibly adding about a day's worth of brooding and death glares.

But this question seemed to be a lot less about prying into Nico's business and a lot more about something else.

Nico looked away from Leo nonetheless and kept his eyes on the dark canopy above. "It's kind of hard to ignore when you, you know… when you like someone and that someone is, well, a boy."

Leo's swinging sounds less intense. "Sure. I suppose when it's the only kind of attraction that happens to you, you can't really miss it, can you?"

"Nope," Nico confirms. He could see where Leo's mind was at. "But I guess that if someone was attracted to a lot of different people… it'd be harder to recognize."

"I guess so."

Nico thinks of all the things he wished someone had said to him when he was driving himself mad with questions and confusion, and out of everything, the thing that would have meant the most was very simple.

"And it'd be okay. It'd be more than okay, actually, it'd be great."

Nico can't see it, but he can hear the soft exhale that Leo does when he smiles. The rustling and thudding of his magic pouch follow and then the light is turned off.

"Thank you, Neeks."

"I'm going to murder you."

This was the first time in Nico's life that he has managed to leave a camp for more than five minutes without encountering a single being that wanted to kill him. He had been prepared for attacks from the get-go, especially since Leo literally couldn't go two breaths without doing something demigod-like such as warming up their chilaquiles with his bare hands or making weird artefacts appear as if out of thin air.

But this had been the most peaceful trip of his life and it almost felt akin to a vacation. Camping, taking dips in rivers and lakes, eating something different every day (Leo even agreed to go to McDonald's once) and keeping the worrying to a minimum.

It was even nice to be around Leo most of the time. Ever since the other night, he seemed to be making fewer jokes and nervous tinkering than usual. He still did it, because it's part of him, but he seemed more relaxed about it. It wasn't a necessity but a choice.

"What are you going to do once we arrive?" Nico asks one afternoon as they sit on top of a hill and take in the view. They're most likely just a jump away from getting to their destination, and in all honesty, Nico's rested enough that he could manage it that same day.

But he decided to drag this out a bit longer. They stopped just outside of San Francisco at some unknown mountains with enough trees to make it the perfect spot to tie hammocks and, damn it, Nico loves them by now, and he just wants another opportunity to use them while he's still with company. His return trip will be a lot lonelier.

Leo shrugs. "I don't know what Pipes and Jason might be up to. Jason had his plan to make shrines for all the Gods, so I might help him with that. But honestly, I wish they'd come back to Camp Half-Blood."

Nico raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Sure. It's the camp me and Piper were meant to be in, all my siblings are there, plus there's the bunker and Festus… I don't want to give it all up."

Nico feels a spark of hope in his chest. Perhaps he won't have to return alone. It's still bittersweet, though, because once Leo rejoins Piper and Jason, things will be different. Piper and Jason are very nice and all, and Nico gets along very well with Jason in particular, but he has a feeling Leo won't be the same with them around.

"And you're there, also," Leo adds.

Nico feels some heat rise to his cheeks and he tries to push it down.

Thankfully, Leo doesn't press it. "What about you? How do you decide which Camp to be in? You were in Camp Jupiter for a while, you have Hazel there, but you're originally Half-Blood and you have Will over there…"

"Will?" Nico asks, surprised that Leo would put him on the same level of importance to Nico as Hazel.

"Well, yes. I assumed you two-"

"Oh, no." Nico must be properly blushing now. "I mean, I don't know. But we're not. He's very nice and I'm glad to have a close friend there but…"

"Well okay, so you'll have two close friends there, then." Leo puts his hand over Nico's and it's the first time they're so purposefully touching like that.

Leo is not hiding this personal moment with a mask of light-hearted comments or jokes. So Nico won't shy away from it, either.

"I'm glad you want to come back." He summons courage harder than it takes him to summon an army of skeletons, and he leans his head on Leo's shoulder.

They remain like that for a while, Leo's hand covering his and Nico's head resting on Leo, and Nico had never felt so safe outside of camp and he wonders if it can last.

It turns out it can last. They manage to make it to Camp Jupiter without a single unpleasant encounter. And just when Nico thought they may break Percy's rule about feeling safe, they cross the gates and they are actually safe. Hazel sees them first. She's in full uniform and looking tiny but powerful as always, and her eyes go wide and shiny like dark gemstones.

She drops everything, her spatha, shield, and a book she'd been carrying and she sprints at them. She crushes Leo in a hug and starts weeping immediately.

"You! How? I was- Jason and Piper- ugh!" Each word is punctuated by a sob and a slap on Leo's chest.

Then there's Frank, who is so surprised that he turns into a ferret by mistake but then seizes the opportunity to climb onto Leo's head and claw at his hair with tiny, shrill yelps.

"I missed you too, buddy," Leo says, only grimacing slightly.

When he's back in human form, the bear hug is so engulfing that Leo almost disappears from sight.

Apparently, Piper and Jason are around somewhere but Hazel and Frank are too busy with their new duties that they can't keep track of them. Hazel summons Arion and writes a note, tying it around his neck.

"If you find Piper or Jason, get them here as soon as possible."

And off he goes.

Hazel spends a while telling Leo how much they looked for him the days after the battle back in Camp-Half Blood, which Nico had already done, but not in so much detail. Especially about the extent to which Jason and Piper in particular had driven themselves mad trying to find him, to the point where after weeks of futile search, Percy and Annabeth had to drag them back to camp and eventually convince them to come to California and get their minds off it.

Of course Nico wanted Leo to know they didn't give up on him, that he was missed, but he didn't want him to feel as guilty as he looks right now.

Other people also greeted them, including Reyna who Nico was glad to see. She was looking healthier than before.

Just as they were about to go to the Fifth Cohort to see if anyone knew about Jason or Piper, a loud zoom fills Nico's ears and a blurry second later, Leo is on the ground, tackled by Piper.

Arion neighs and stomps his front legs down before taking off again.

It takes about two minutes of Piper holding onto Leo and crying "I hate you!" before they can stand up. Leo's eyes and face are red too and he can't stop sniffling.

"Explain. Now," Piper orders him, wiping tears off her face.

"I thought we'd wait for Jason," Leo tells her.

Piper sighs. "He's been so moody lately I can't even tell you when he'd be coming back. He's been hard to read."

"Jason? Moody? Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?"

Piper hits Leo.

And then, it happens again. This time is a whooshing sound that gets progressively louder and Nico barely has time to catch a glance of Jason flying at them at full speed before Leo is lifted off his feet and carried away.

Nico typically refrains from showing any emotion other than annoyance in front of others, but even he can't keep a straight face upon seeing Jason and Leo embracing up in the air, clearly crying and laughing at the same time as Jason slowly lowers them to the ground.

Everyone is at least tearing up by the time they make their way towards them, but Nico is okay with it. He's happy for Leo and he doesn't care who sees. Hazel grabs Nico's hand and he squeezes it.

"So," Leo says with a rough voice. "Ready to hear the Tales of Tio Leo?"

Nico hadn't realized how much he missed this camp, especially Hazel. He wishes he could be with her year-round or at least visit more often. There should be a faster way to get from one camp to the other.

Eventually, though, the time to return was drawing nearer and it was hard to acknowledge it. Nico still didn't know if Leo was coming back or not and he didn't want to ruin his reunion. He was still so happy to be around Piper and Jason.

Nico sits outside at a table after dinner. They all managed to squeeze in a dinner together before their respective duties took them in different directions. Of course, the only ones who didn't have anything to attend to were Nico and Leo, so it isn't a surprise when Leo returns to the table after saying goodbye to the others.

Leo plays with the candles there, lighting them on and then putting them out over and over. "I was wondering…" he begins and for some reason Nico's heart speeds up.

"Yeah?"

He lights the candles again. "Is Nico short for Nicholas? And if it is, can I call you Saint Nicholas?"

Nico kicks him under the table.

"Ow!"

"Is Leo short for Leonardo? And if so, can I call you Da Vinci?" Nico asks, trying to sound as stupid as Leo had.

"Definitely!" Leo answers, a big smile while still rubbing his leg. "Da Vinci works, though I think I look more like a Di Caprio."

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

Leo is still smiling even after a few seconds. "Da Vinci and Di Angelo. We should form a band."

"Over my dead body," Nico says, but he has to really bite back a smile.

Silence ensues and Nico thinks this would be the right moment to tell Leo that he plans to return the next day. He opens his mouth to speak but as it often happens with speaking, Leo beats him to it.

"So when do we leave, Hermano Hamaca?"

Nico is so confused by that last bit that he doesn't even process the first. "What?"

"Hammock Bro," Leo translates.

"Oh." Leo wants to go back with him? "I thought you'd want to stay with them a bit longer."

He shrugs. "Well, you're the shadow-travelling boss, but if it was up to me I could leave tomorrow. Piper and Jason are working on the shrines and they'll be at Camp Half-Blood soon. I can help from there. I'll miss Hazel and the big guy, but I'll see them again. Plus, it'd be nice to see Percy and Annabeth too, if they got the letter."

Nico nods. "Sure. We can leave tomorrow." He doesn't let it show how happy he is not to be travelling alone, but he still hopes Leo can see it a little bit.

"Hey," Leo puts out a candle with his right hand and lights up another with his left. "Thank you for bringing me here. I know it's a long road trip for something that could have been a phone call in normal circumstances. But even if I could have contacted them somehow, I think I needed to come. See them for myself. So, thank you."

Nico does smile then. "You're welcome. I know I would have liked to see you in person if you hadn't almost killed me on impact when you arrived."

"It's settled, then. We leave tomorrow. Maybe we can stop in Houston this time? I'll show you my mom's old repair garage and the best gorditas you'll ever have in your life."

"Sure," Nico agrees. It might take them a bit longer but it's not as if they have anything else to do. No prophecies to fulfill, no quests to carry out, no world-destruction to stop.

Leo puts his hand over Nico's again and this time Nico turns his hand over and laces their fingers together. Leo's hand is downright hot from playing with the candles so much, but Nico thinks it's nice.

As the candlelight dances in the wind along with Leo's hair, Nico realizes that even though he has always felt safest in the shadows, fire is not too bad either.

#nico di angelo #leo valdez #valdangelo #leico #hoo #pjo #it's both romantic and platonic #your choice #i just want them to be happy #so it's all fluff there's no danger or angst #they deserve it

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phanlight · 4 years

Text

Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him.

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat. “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense.

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.”

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel.

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk. “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

#phan #phanfic #dnp #dan and phil #phan au #illaks #i posted this to ao3 ages ago but never did here apparently

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cecilspeaks · 5 years

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161 - The Space Race

Space, the final frontier. The womb, the first frontier. Somewhere between those two, the ocean. Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m excited today for the annual Night Vale Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. Yess, that’s right! As we’ve done every year on this day, we will be devoting our entire episode to a scientific narrative that is sure to delight both the young and the young at heart. And also those who have stolen young hearts and incorporated them into your flesh sacks. For this year’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentations, we will be looking into the history of – the Space Race. Mmm! My husband Carlos has been helping me research this. Thanks, honey! And so it should be airtight and without error.

Now, the Space Race truly began in 1792, at a garden party hosted by the first Duke of Luftnarp one lazy July weekend. A bored group of noble people were sitting out in the garden in all their ruffles and wigs, looking absolutely fashionable for the time, and absolutely ridiculous to modern eyes. And soon the conversation turned, as it often does in parties, to how much they all hated the moon. “Stupid moon!” said one. “Lousy orb!” added another. “Why, I loathe that sky rock!” said a third. Then they started to throw things at the moon to demonstrate how much they hated it. But none of the objects they threw, not the champagne glasses, nor the decorative party masks, nor the dangerous knives, came anywhere near the moon. Most of the hurled items followed the tedious arch of gravity back into the party with mixed results for the attendees, some of whom required immediate medical attention. “This won’t do,” said the first Duke of Luftnarp. “We must hit the moon square on with our objects of derision. “Let us endeavour,” said the Prince of York, “to build an object that can make it all the way to the moon, and smack that awful rock right across its ugly surface. The first one to do so will show that they indeed hate the moon the most.” There was general cheering to that remark, along with some moaning from those who had been struck by the falling objects. And thus, the Space Race was born.

And now the news. As I’m sure we’ve all been following, there is a presidential race going on. Yes, Night Vale may be a small town, mostly preoccupied with the banal goings on of our day to day life, but we are not unaware of national stories. Just like any other town, we have our own opinions on the presidential race. And spirited debates are held weekly in the Compressed Spine amateur boxing gym. Winner is generally by knockout, although occasionally a winner has to be chosen by points. I myself am a strong supporter of Spotless Tony, who I think has the best positions including banning guns, legalizing writing utensils, and Medicare for Spotless Tony. A-a program that would provide comprehensive health care to himself. Others may support Heartbreak Maggie, and I do see the arguments for her. She has the most number of arms, the most number of eyes, and her singing voice literally kills. In any case, I think we can all get together on one thing: Old Towel Leonard has got to go. Get him out of here, ugh! Old Towel Leonard! This has been the news.

And now traffic. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. This world has grown so tired. This world has grown restless. This world has less color and more dust. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. Get to that other world by any means, pilgrims. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? What is anyone without a destination? You must lift yourself up to that other place. Gather your supplies, pilgrims. Strip this world bare in order to raise yourself up. Take every scrap around you and put it toward that other world. This is all that matters. It’s all that matters to you, and so it is all that matters. Aloft, pilgrims. You have done it. from here, the sweep of the universe presents itself. Cast down your eyes, pilgrims. See below you the world you left behind, the world you stripped bare to make this journey. There was found all the conditions of life. Up here is only a cold, lonely hollow. Why did you ever feel you needed to leave? But oh well, ooooh well. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? This has been traffic.

Let us know continue with our Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. The history of the Space Race. The Space Race went on through the 18th and 19th centuries, with the rich and poor alike trying to be the first to successfully throw something at that horrible moon. The most obvious methods were quickly tried and discarded. Catapults only managed to cause collateral damage to neighboring homes, gunpowder only backfired on the scientists involved, often quite literally. One woman, the Arch Dutchess of the Motley Meadows, believed that she could reach the moon through dreaming. Every night, she performed a series of meditations that allowed her to have lucid control of her dreams. In those dreams, she would fly upward, each time getting a little closer to the dumb old moon. It was her belief that when she reached the moon in her dream, she would attain the same goal in real life. But the moment she finally touched the moon in her dream, she awoke to find herself in the stifling darkness of a coffin. It seems she had died several decades before, but still she dreamed. Having ascertained that there was no way back from the grave, she performed the meditations and fell into one final endless lucid dream. And that basically sums up the Space Race until 1953.

Now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Borders Books and Music. Remember the old days when your legs were shorter, but your life stretched longer? When the shadows were less dark and the lights less bleary. When the internet was a secret club and not a poisoned chalice. When energy was a bottomless thing, not a quickly siphoned tank. We are what once was. Look on our works, both books and music, ye mighty, and peruse. Borders Books and Music. What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be. This has been a word from our sponsors.

The lawsuit in the case of the estate of Franklin Chen versus the city of Night Vale continues apace. The suit is currently in the discovery phase, which has been made difficult by the fact that the apparent murderer of Franklin Chen, Hiram McDaniels, has not been seen in Night Vale for years. Not since… the incident. And all records in Night Vale are top secret. So every time the lawyers for the Chen family try to see one, they have to dodge the laser grid and tank darts that surround every filing cabinet in City Hall. Those lawyers have filed an injunction against the city to try to force them to turn the laser grids off, but as the official Night Vale motto, written by the town founders hundreds of years ago clearly states: “Laser grids or death”. More news on this lawsuit as news is made by this lawsuit.

Back to the Space Race. Affairs continued with little success until 1953, when the United States, descendants of the Prince of York, decided that enough was enough and established the North American Slap the Moon Agency, or NASA, dedicated to developing the skills and technology needed to give that horrible orbiter what for. Meanwhile, the Russians, descendants of the Duke of Luftnarp, started their own agency designed to kick the moon in the you know what. And so a bet between two bored aristocrats became a global race, as they both tried to be the first to aim missiles at that sad little planetoid. To represent us, we chose Neil Armstrong. He was a test pilot, and he reportedly hated the moon more than anyone. Above his bed, he kept a National Geographic picture of the moon. The caption: “Can this celestial trash ever be put in its place?”, which he had drawn a huge red X through. Below that, he wrote: “Darn you, moon!” Which was the strongest language that existed in the 1950’s.

Finally, all was prepared. Neil Armstrong and his fellow astronauts boarded the rocket. All was quiet. Then, all was loud. More soon, but now for this week’s word jumble.

The following nonsense words will, when the letters are rearranged, produce a simple phrase we all know well. Here we go. Before I went into the cave, the prospect of the cave became so monstrous in my head that I dreamt about it for weeks. In my dreams I was just outside of the cave and I knew that the moment I stepped into the cave, my life would be over. But I also knew I could not delay my journey into the cave. I shook and shook with fear, and in my shaking awoke myself. This happened night after night. Then came the day of our expedition and to my horror, as I stood outside the cave, the same dread certainty came to me as soon as I stepped one foot into the crevice before me, my life would be over. I shook and shook, but I did not awaken, for I was not asleep but in the terrible dream we call life. So there it is. Just take those nonsense words apart and rearrange them into the phrase we’re looking for. If you think you have the answer, you probably do. Great job! Uh, before we go, the answer to last week’s jumble was: “Hop! The window shakes slyly, look here!” Which is, of course, the title to Dave Edgar’s new book of essays about block chains. This has been this week’s word jumble.

We near the end of our story on the Space Race. Neil Armstrong and his comrades hunched in this tiny capsule that absurdity of absurdities was about to be launched through void to lifeless rock. Sweat on his nose, sweat on his lips. Then sweat in his mouth. This was all unnecessary, the-the history of humanity did not require us to physically touch everything there is, but. Some drive made him willing to risk his life, the only life he would ever get, in order to go far away and then come back again. There was a sound. There was a fire! There was pressure! And then, there was an absence of pressure. And they were at the moon. The lander careened its way to the surface. Neil, sweat still on his face, placed one foot on the moon. “I have a small foot,” he said. “But humanity metaphorically has big feet. Biiiig huuuge metaphoric feet.” History would record and repeat these poetic words. Neil looked about him. He had done it. He had been the first one to smack into this disgusting space rock. All around was grey, and above that black. And within that, unnervingly distant blue and green. And then, Neil saw.

What Neil saw in a moment. But we really should, and we really must Go to the weather.

[“Have a Smoke” by Head Portals https://headportals.bandcamp.com]

Neil’s breath made shapes on the inside of his helmet. Some part of him felt that it was not even him on the moon, but that he was merely watching someone else’s body through a little window. That other him stepped forward and saw something truly odd. It was a house. Solidly built, two floors, a front door and gable windows. As he looked at it in disbelief, he realized that it was one of many. An entire town all cleverly camouflaged from above with grey and black mesh, so that it would appear through telescopes to be merely the awful boring surface of the awful boring moon. He was not the first one on the moon after all. Who had come before? He walked through the town, tho it appeared abandoned. He stood in the middle of the main square and he said, tho he would not be able to be heard through his helmet and the thin atmosphere: “Hello?” In every window appeared an animal. Dogs, cats, snakes, hamsters, and parrots. So many animals all watching him silently, regarding him from the windows of their little town. One cat, grey as the moon itself, hopped from her ledge and came over to him. “I am Barbara Emmeline Gwendolyn Sauss,” said the cat. “But you may call me Barb-E-Q –Sauss.” Neil said: “You can talk?” And then he said, “Well, apparently you can, I don’t know why I asked. The cat continued as though he had not spoken. “This is our city. We are the lost pets of your world. We are lost, because that is what we choose to be. We came here so we could be lost forever. Tell no one.” Neil didn’t know what to say. All of his training had been about zero-G maneuvering and the best way to hit the stupid moon when he got there. Nothing about how to interact with a cat that wanted him to keep a secret. “Please,” the cat repeated, and Neil nodded. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to the lander, climbed in, and looked at the other man who had made this journey with him. Lee Marvin looked back at him with gentle eyes. “Lee,” Neil said, “You’re not going to believe this!” “A secret lost pet city on the moon?” Lee said. “Well…” Neil said, “Uh… yes!” Lee nodded thoughtfully. “Better leave them to it then,” he said. “Probably better we keep this between us.” Lee did not look surprised. It seemed to Neil that maybe Lee was there precisely to ensure that this secret was kept. And so again Neil only nodded, and they made their preparations and left. As they launched, out of the tiny window, Neil could just barely see thousands of animal eyes looking up at him. “I’ll keep your secret,” he whispered, “I’ll keep your secret. And he did. He never told anyone. Neither did Lee. No one knows this story. No one has ever heard it.

This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Correct placement from right to left: salad fork, soup spoon, salad spoon, bread knife, bowie knife, meat thermometer, entrée fork, and finally, the dessert claws.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #episode 161 #the space race

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officialcherubcampus · 4 years

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Three futures - The Playboy

So what happens to James, Lauren, Kerry and all the gang after Shadow Wave?

Robert Muchamore has written three stories, depicting alternative futures for James and Kerry set in the year 2031.

Las Vegas - October 2031

James Choke sat at the end of an emperor-size bed. He was in a 53rd floor penthouse suite with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked coloured lights stretching five kilometres along the Las Vegas strip.

James would celebrate his 40th birthday in less than two weeks, but his personal trainer kept him in shape. He looked fit, dressed in boxers, with slicked back hair with touches of grey down the sides. He’d look even better when he put on the $80,000 hand-cut silk suit, and diamond crusted Rolex resting on the duvet alongside him.

“Why are you showing off?” James asked, as he looked round at a stunning blonde, whose head poked out between a mound of pillows and cushions.

She was James’ current girlfriend, a twenty-two-year-old cowgirl called Sue Loewe. Her voice was high and her accent came out of East Texas.

“I had your baby,” Sue said bitterly. “If you love me you should marry me.”

“I’ve been through four wives and four divorces already,” James said, trying not to lose his temper as he pulled his suit trousers up his legs. “That’s enough marrying for one lifetime. Now are you getting dressed for the opening ceremony or not?”

James ducked as a couple of velvet cushions spun angrily across the room towards him.

“Four wives and four hundred girlfriends,” Sue shouted. “But there’s only ever been one woman you loved. So why don’t you walk down your precious red carpet with her?”

James buckled his trousers and crawled up the bed towards Sue. She’d come to Vegas to compete in a rodeo, with model looks, an athletic body and the enormous breasts that had drawn James’ eye when he’d pinned on her runner-up rosette for the steer wrestling competition.

“This is the biggest night of my year,” James said. “The dress you’ve had made costs more than most cars.”

Sue hissed, “I want your time and attention, James. Not dresses. Not cars. Not money.”

James thought about trying to kiss Sue, but he didn’t have the heart. He’d been through enough women to know this relationship was in its last stretch: Sue would head back to her mother in Texas with the baby. She’d lawyer up and settle for a few million dollars a year in child maintenance. James would make sure his infant son wanted for nothing and fly him into Vegas for some daddy time two or three times a year.

“My chopper will be here in twenty minutes,” James said calmly, as he rolled off the bed. “I haven’t got time to fight with you right now.”

“You’re a greasy arse,” Sue shouted, as she grabbed a glass tumbler and lobbed it at his head.

Wives and girlfriends had been throwing stuff at James for years. He ducked expertly, leaving the glass to smash against the wall behind him. Then he grabbed his shoes, watch and the rest of the clothes off the end of the bed and made a swift exit through double walnut doors into a grand hallway.

The hallway was more than thirty metres long, with a chequerboard marble floor. The cleaning lady pushing a big scissor-mop acted like she’d heard nothing, but the black-suited bodyguard standing by the lift showed no such reserve.

“Your life would be a lot simpler if you could learn to keep your dick in your pants,” Bruce Norris said.

James grinned - as well as being James’ bodyguard Bruce was one of James’ oldest friends.

“The day I give up womanising is the day I give up breathing, Brucey Boy.”

Bruce shook his head, showing disapproval, tinged with jealousy. Bruce had toured the globe and won three ultimate fighting belts, but he’d now put wild days on the road behind him and lived a quiet life in a Vegas suburb, with three boys and a wife who worked as a croupier in one of the big casinos.

“I had a call earlier,” Bruce said, as James handed him a jacket so that he had free arms to pull on his shirt and bow tie. “From your oldest sister.”

James looked shocked. “Lauren! What did that fruitcake want?”

“She’d got a meeting in New York tomorrow. Said she’s passing over Vegas and asked if her name could be added to the guest list for tonight’s opening ceremony.”

“What did you say?”

“I checked with Kerry. She didn’t seem to have any problem with it.”

James was slightly irritated. “Lauren’s my sister, why didn’t you check with me?”

“You were out of contact,” Bruce said, raising one eyebrow. “Sharing the executive washroom with that hot Russian translator.”

“Oh her,” James said fondly. “Did you get her number by the way?”

“Lauren or the Russian?”

“The Russian.”

“I’m your bodyguard, not your pimp,” Bruce said tetchily. “We’d better get up to the helipad. Kerry will barbecue your balls if you’re late.”

...

Debbie Shan was the on-screen reporter for the local Vegas television station, but the gala opening of Choke Grand Plaza Casino was national news and even though she was on home turf, she felt out of place in the press pen outside the massive new casino, jostling with more famous faces from major news outlets from around the world.

“OK, Debbie,” the bearded cameraman said. “Take it again from the top.”

“Was the last take no good?” she asked.

The cameraman gave a reassuring nod. “Your take was fine, but with all this hullabaloo we need to get a couple down to make sure we can edit out all the background noise.”

“Right,” Debbie said, as she pushed her hair off her face, then switched to the more careful tone she used when speaking to camera.

“Twenty years ago, two newly married Stanford graduates drove from San Francisco to Las Vegas. But James and Kerry Choke were no ordinary honeymoon couple. James was a card shark, intending to use his maths skills to win big on the blackjack tables. Kerry was a smart young businesswoman who’d already made her first million from an online shoe store she’d set up while still at university.

“Over the last decade-and-a-half the Chokes have become the biggest thing in Vegas. Starting with the purchase and turnaround of the tiny run-down Boulder Gate Casino, the Choke Corporation rapidly became a multi-billion dollar business empire comprising casinos, hotels and sports teams that now stretches from the ownership of James’ favourite Premiership football outfit to the first ever mega-casino built in Beijing.

“When the Chokes’ marriage broke down, James’ affair and eighteen month marriage to movie star Kate Porpoise catapulted James to celebrity status as he entered one of the most gossiped about relationship in Hollywood history. Despite two more whirlwind marriages in the past five years for James, and Kerry settling down with new husband Paul Hartt - the couple have remained close friends. James and Kerry continue to work successfully as business partners, and in bringing up their three daughters.”

“Tonight we’ve seen wave after wave of celebrities from the internet, films and music arriving for the opening of Choke Grand Plaza, which Kerry Choke claims is the biggest and most glamorous casino anywhere in the world. The casino hotel has over 7,000 suites, 50,000 square metres of gambling space and an 80,000 seat stadium for the Choke Corporation’s newly instated Las Vegas Knights NFL team. What’s more I’m told we’re going to see more than seventy million dollars worth of fireworks go up in smoke before the doors of this colossal new gambling palace open to the public on the stroke of midnight.”

Debbie paused for a long breath, then looked away from the camera. “Was that OK?”

The cameraman nodded. “Perfect. I think we had the noise under control, but we’ll do it once more just to be sure.”

...

Lauren Adams had arrived at Vegas airport more than three hours earlier. Her hair was a tangle, she wore ripped jeans and dirty canvas pumps. Her only luggage was a small canvas holdall containing a computer, basic toiletries and a couple of changes of underwear.

With a title fight on at one end of the strip and a new casino opening at the other, Vegas was rammed. She’d had to queue more than an hour for a taxi at the airport, followed by 90 minutes through gridlocked traffic.

Even then, the driver couldn’t get within a block of the Choke Grand Plaza. The temperature was touching thirty, even though it was past 10pm and Lauren had to fight through the crowds who’d come out to watch the fireworks, and get a first peek at the latest Choke Corporation casino.

Lauren found Las Vegas tacky and revolting. The Choke Grand Plaza comprised four sixty storey towers clad in fake marble and gold leaf. The building had all the subtlety of a kick with a steel-toe capped boot and to make the place even worse, the rooftop penthouse complex atop the tallest tower was shaped like a giant NFL football. Lauren also spotted well-disguised cranes, suggesting that the Choke Grand Plaza wasn’t quite as ready for it’s grand opening as her brother and ex-sister-in-law would have liked the public to believe.

Still, Lauren was late and her associates had been working on her plan for months, so there wasn’t time to stand around gawping at the gaudy monstrosity. If getting to the casino had been a scrum, she was elevated into much classier surroundings as soon as Grand Plaza security blipped the VIP pass that Kerry had sent to her mobile.

“Mrs Rathbone,” an oily little guard dressed in casino uniform said, as he raised a velvet rope to let Lauren into a hotel lobby with a five storey atrium, giant waterfalls and chandeliers the size of a mini-van. “I’m Keith Selway, head of security in tower three. You should have called us when you landed, we had a driver waiting for you at the airport.”

Lauren felt gutted, because when she thought about it she even remembered Kerry saying something about a limo pick-up.

“I didn’t even know James Choke had a sister,” Selway said, as he led Lauren towards the elevator. “You must be very proud of him.”

Lauren smiled awkwardly. “Oh, I’m so proud.”

“Do you see your brother often?”

“It’s been a few years,” Lauren said. “But our children are quite close. James’ three daughters holiday with my brood in Sydney most summers.”

“You live in Australia?”

Lauren nodded. “My husband’s Australian. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get to my room and change as quickly as possible. I can’t really step on to the red carpet looking like this, can I?”

As Lauren spoke, Selway tapped away at a touch-screen computer. He read something before looking up.

“Your phone should operate the lift automatically, there’s no need to check in. As requested, Kerry Choke has arranged for a selection of evening wear and jewellery to be delivered to your room, with her compliments. Simply wear whatever outfit you prefer and the rest will be returned to the shop. A parcel also arrived for you today, and it’s been placed on the desk in your room.”

“Excellent,” Lauren said.

The elevator opened directly into a huge room that was a good deal more tasteful than the building’s exterior. Selway made a great fuss, hoping to earn himself a tip by showing Lauren everything from which button raised the Jacuzzi bath out of the floor, to the electric massage function built into the lounge chairs. In the end Lauren handed over $10 just to get him out of the door.

As soon as Selway was gone, Lauren looked quickly at a clothes rail with half-a-dozen designer dresses on it. She picked one without much thought, along with matching white shoes. She took far more care over unwrapping the small parcel on the desk. It contained a set of screwdrivers and wire cutters, plus a thumbnail-sized wireless modem.

Lauren knelt under the desk and unscrewed the faceplate on a computer network socket. The socket was a standard network port, but when Lauren pulled the cable a few centimetres out of the wall she found the point where the device linked into a fatter optical cable. This cable linked to the hotel’s main network hub and would enable a hacker with suitable passwords to gain high speed access to Choke Grand Plaza’s central computer system.

Between the copper and fibre optic cable was a transponder box that turned electrical pulses into optical ones. Lauren opened its plastic clamshell case and inserted the tiny modem. After crawling out from under the desk she picked up her phone and told it to call Gareth.

“Gareth, I’ve fixed your device into the hotel network,” Lauren told the phone.

“I just saw the connection pop up on my screen,” Gareth replied, sounding a little arrogant. “I’ve been sitting here waiting. I said I’d need an hour to get the job done, but the ceremony starts in less than half that.”

Lauren sounded cross. “Kate’s people asked me to do this as a favour. I’ve got four kids to look after back in Australia, so be grateful for what you’ve got.”

Gareth grunted before hanging up.

Lauren felt anxious as she crawled out from under the desk and screwed the faceplate back on to the network socket. It felt wrong abusing her relationship with James in order to make a political point, but although she still loved her brother it had been years since she’d really connected with him.

Kerry had always kept James grounded, but Lauren felt her brother had given in to his baser instincts when they’d divorced: womanising, gambling and partying. And while James constantly complained about press intrusion, he secretly seemed to revel in his bad-boy-billionaire profile.

...

“Daddy!”

Gwen Choke was 11 years old and still got excited when she saw her dad. James lifted her off the ground as he hugged her. At 13 and 15, Sarah and Ellen were more reserved and settled for kisses on the cheek.

Gwen and Ellen had their mother’s straight dark hair, while Sarah was a blonde who might almost have passed for her auntie Lauren at the same age. All three girls wore matching, slightly punkish, outfits, with black motorcycle boots, red stockings, mini-skirts and leather jackets with the Grand Plaza Casino logo on the back.

“Loving the matching gear,” James said. “Did your mum pick them?”

“They’re horrific,” Ellen spat. “I feel like a billboard. Why can’t I just wear what I like? Everyone else gets to.”

“Your mum’s put a lot of thought into this,” James said, trying to sound parental. “You get to wear what you want the rest of the time, don’t you?”

Kerry stepped into the bare concrete room and sensed her oldest daughter’s unhappiness. “Still moaning about that dress?”

Ellen shrugged. “I’m wearing it, aren’t I, for Christ’s sake?”

James and Kerry kissed. Kerry’s smell always set off a longing inside James, but he tried to ignore it.

“Is Sue not coming?” Kerry asked.

“She’s in a mood,” James said, as he shook his head. “Post-natal depression, I think.”

“I guess that’s the last we’ll be seeing of Sue then,” Sarah said cynically. “I wonder which dumb blonde we’ll be calling Auntie next?”

James wanted to tell his middle daughter off for being sarcastic, but the other two girls were smirking. And it wasn’t like Sarah had said anything that he hadn’t thought himself, so he changed tactics.

“So where’s your husband?” James asked.

“Medical Conference in Toronto,” Kerry said, as she glanced at her watch. “You’ve known for months that Paul wouldn’t be here tonight. Anyway, it’s time we rolled out.”

“Mum reckons Auntie Lauren’s coming as well,” Gwen said. “She’s not got her kids with her, but it’s still cool. I haven’t seen her since summer.”

“Haven’t bumped into her,” James said dismissively. “And I’ve no idea why she’s here. Last time I spoke to Lauren about the casino business she told me that it leeches profits from the poor and stupid and leads to gambling addiction and family breakdown. So what’s she doing at the opening of a glitzy new casino?”

“Casino do leech their profits from the poor and stupid,” Ellen said, unable to resist having a dig at her parents.

James laughed. “I tell you what Ellen, when you get your driver’s permit how about I make a charitable donation to gamblers anonymous in your name, instead of buying that Porsche you’re after?”

“She’d wreck a Porsche if she got it, anyway,” Sarah said.

“Shut up, bitch,” Ellen snapped back.

“You two,” Kerry shouted. “Behave!”

Sensing that family harmony was about to collapse, Kerry turned the conversation back towards Lauren.

“Maybe Lauren just saw an opportunity to make up for lost time,” Kerry suggested. “You two used to be so close. When did you last speak to her?”

James shrugged. “She phoned me at Christmas? Or was it when the girls were in Australia the summer before last?”

Gwen sounded outraged. “That’s fifteen months, daddy. How can you go fifteen months without talking to your own sister?”

“They had a fight,” Ellen said.

“Lauren and I never had a fight,” James said firmly. “We just grew apart. We lead different lifestyles and have very different attitudes.”

“We need to move now,” Bruce said, as he came into the room through a fire door. “Unless you want to miss your own fireworks.”

The Choke family walked through a concrete corridor that smelled of damp and new paint. It was built under the main fountain at the casino entrance. Kerry’s bodyguards, Alfie and Max, led the way up a spiral staircase. At ground level they all emerged into a luxurious gazebo where a couple of really big name celeb who’d been paid vast sums of money to show their faces at the casino opening nibbled crab-cakes and sipped wine.

Kerry made a big show of hugging everyone, while James helped eleven-year-old Gwen overcome her shyness and get an autograph off the star of her favourite TV show. At precisely six minutes to midnight, the first firework barrage lit up the sky.

James felt like he’d entered a warzone as he stepped along the red carpet towards the Grand Plaza’s huge Gothic-columned entrance, with a long haired daughter on each arm. Fireworks cracked above and hundreds of cameras flashed, from both photographers in the press area and snappers in the 30,000 strong crowd.

As another blast of fireworks erupted, a woman broke through the security barriers and threw a giant pair of gold knickers at James’ head. They missed, but James stopped to pick them up as security guards dragged the woman away.

“Thank you so much,” James said. “I always wear this brand and I was running low.”

James got a gentle whack from middle daughter Sarah. “Dad, you’re so embarrassing. If the boys in my class see a picture of me in the paper wearing this stupid outfit while you hold up a pair of gold knickers I’ll die of embarrassement.”

But James barely heard his daughter’s complaint because the next barrage of fireworks was powerful enough to shake the ground they walked on.

Two dozen VIPs had been given giant scissors to cut the ribbon on the stroke of midnight and declare the casino open, but before that could happen there would be a short video presentation of all the thrills that the new casino was going to offer.

Lauren wasn’t important enough to get scissors, but she had been allowed to stand with a slightly larger group of VIPs off to one side of the casino entrance. Her three nieces all made a beeline as soon as they spotted her.

“Auntie Lauren it’s been ages!” Sarah said, as Gwen hugged her.

“I totally want another holiday at your vineyard,” Ellen said. “It’s so mellow out there.”

“How’s Uncle Rat?” Sarah asked.

“Did that sick horse get better?” Gwen added.

“Uncle Rat and Mabel the horse are both much better,” Lauren said. “Rat’s hair’s grew back after the chemotherapy stopped and I really hope you can all make it out to Australia for Christmas this year. I know my kids are mad keen to see you again.”

“I want to go surfing again,” Sarah said. “And little Mac is so cute.”

James was approaching too, but as he was about to pull Lauren into a hug she felt her phone vibrate and took it out of her bag to see a message from Gareth that read, Job done. Seconds to spare!

“Was that more important than me?” James said irritably as Lauren stared at the phone.

“Little Mac’s got an ear infection,” Lauren lied, as they finally hugged. “Doctor’s given him antibiotics.”

“Sorry to hear that,” James said. “It’s been way too long since I saw you. I think you were pregnant with Mac and how old is he now?”

“Three next month,” Lauren said, as they squeezed each other. “You should visit when Kerry and the girls fly over. You stopped coming, but I never stopped inviting you.”

“Maybe I will this year,” James said, though it as an empty promise: he didn’t share his daughters’ liking for Lauren and Rat’s dusty ranch and vineyard, and the Aussie press didn’t give him enough room to misbehave when he went out partying in Sydney.

“You’re coming Daddy!” Gwen said, wagging her finger. “I heard you promise.”

“I said maybe I’ll go,” James replied, but he tailed off because the fireworks had stopped and the sixty storey casino towers had blacked out, apart from two vast video screens erected to show a short promotional film.

James had watched and approved the video himself, so he was unpleasantly surprised when instead of showing a sweeping helicopter shot of his new casino, the screens cut to a picture of his second ex-wife, the gorgeous movie actress Kate Porpoise.

She stood against a stark grey background and began speaking to camera.

“Don’t worry everyone,” Kate began, in a soothing voice. “In two minutes time the lights will come back on, the casino doors will open on schedule and you can all have some fun. But before you walk through the doors, maybe you should think about all the glass, concrete and steel that went into making this vat new casino, and all the resources it will use before it gets all shabby and they blow it up and build a replacement.

“Maybe you can also spare a thought for the four construction workers who were seriously injured during the building process. And maybe instead of going inside and gambling your money in order to make the Choke Corporation even richer than it is already, you could take five or ten dollars and help make the world a better place by donating it to one of the following organisations. Thanks for listening and whatever you decide to do, I hope you have a great evening!”

The crowd and VIPs looked stunned or confused as a short list of organisations and money transfer barcodes flashed up on screen. James whacked Ellen’s hand as she held up her phone, but he didn’t manage to stop her before several dozen photographers snapped her using the spend function to donate $70 to an environmental group.

“Your mother is going to be livid,” James said. “She spent months making sure every detail of this ceremony was spot on.”

Kerry walked up to James and whispered in his ear as a ten second countdown appeared on the screen.

“Keep smiling for the cameras,” Kerry snarled, with the worlds fakest grin etched on her face. “But I’m going to sue that bitch ex-ife of yours for every penny she has.”

“Seven,” the crowd chanted. “Six...”

“Our company will not be suing my ex-wife,” James said. “She’s the mother of my twins. Think about the boys.”

“Five...”

“So what, we just let her get away with this bullshit?” Kerry hissed.

“It’s the hacker we should worry about,” James pointed out as the crowd chanted four. “If they can hack into hotel systems can they get into the air conditioning, or the security cameras? There’s over ten million dollars cash stored in the casino vault.”

“Three...”

“I’ve already texted the security director telling him he’s fired,” Kerry said.

“Two...”

Lauren had recoiled slightly at the thought of a hacker hunt, but nothing could ever be traced back to her, provided she removed the modem she’d attached to the network socket in her room before she checked out the following morning.

“One...Zero!”

Cheers erupted as the countdown clock reached zero and a midnight chimed. Gwen Choke joined the celebrities in cutting the ribbon with giant scissors and then the two lines of security guards stepped out of the way and allowed the huge crowd to surge up a dozen escalators into Las Vegas’ newest and most luxurious casino.

James turned to Lauren after Kerry and his daughters had headed inside with the crowd.

“Still playing jokes on your big brother eh?” James said, smiling fondly.

Lauren practically swallowed her tongue. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Aww give over,” James said. “You and Kate Porpoise have always got on well. You’re both into environmental causes and it’s pretty damned suspicious that you should fly in from Australia and turn up out of the blue for a casino opening when you hate casinos.”

“I just came here to catch up with you,” Lauren said unconvincingly. “I’m meeting a friend in New York for dinner tomorrow and I had to change planes somewhere along the way.”

“Kerry will be pissed off, but I don’t much care,” James said casually. “We’ve shelled out millions of dollars in adverts and paid celebrities to walk down our red carpet on opening night, but I’d bet that little sabotage stunt you and your eco friends have pulled off will get us more publicity than all of that.”

“Bad publicity,” Lauren said.

“There’s no such thing,” James said. “Well, maybe if I got my wang out and tried molesting some cocktail waitress over a craps table that would be bad publicity. But a few eco-mental hippy types whinging won’t hold much sway with our customers.”

Lauren bristled with anger at her brother’s description of environmentalists, but Bruce tactically intervened.

“Hiya, Lauren,” Bruce said warmly, as he hugged his old friend. “Are you in Vegas for long? I’d love for you to come over for dinner and meet my boys. I’m giving them all ninja training. My three year old smashes roof slates with his bare hand.”

“Bruce, I want you to escort Lauren up to her room,” James said, sounding more like a boss than a friend. “Help her to remove her hacking equipment before hotel security has a chance to find it.”

Bruce looked awkwardly at Lauren, before pointing at the big screen, which was now back to showing the Grand Plaza casino logo.

“I should have known it was you,” Bruce said, smiling. “That’s old skool! The kind of prank we’d have pulled back in our CHERUB days.”

James didn’t like the fact that Bruce found it so funny and shook his head. “I’ll never hear the end of this if Kerry finds out,” James told Bruce. “Frankly Lauren, I can’t understand why you’ve done this. Maybe you and I aren’t that close anymore, but our kids are and they’ll be the ones who’ll get hurt the most if you fall out with Kerry.”

James had a good argument, but Lauren wasn’t about to accept a lesson in responsibility from one of the most irresponsible men she’d ever met, so she snapped back angrily. “Jesus James, the planet is choking to death and you’re building a casino with ten thousand air conditioning units in the middle of a desert. How can you live with yourself?”

“I live very nicely,” James said, grinning. “In my 53rd floor penthouse with a stunning girlfriend half my age, a private jet and a woman who charges eight hundred dollars to manicure my nails.”

Bruce sensed that this argument was about to get explosive and pushed himself between the sibling.

“Come on, you two,” Bruce said. “Cool heads, eh?”

“Just get her out of town,” James said, as he took a step back. “When you’re done in Lauren’s room, take her to the airport and arrange for one of the Choke Corporation jets to fly her to New York, or wherever it is she’s really going.”

“Goodnight James,” Lauren said, as her brother turned to head back into his corporation’s new ten-billion-dollar casino complex.

But the funny thing was, although James and Lauren hadn’t agreed on anything in years, there was so much history between them that they couldn’t bring themselves to hate each other.

James turned back to Lauren. “Am I still invited for Christmas Dinner?” he asked.

Lauren smiled. “Always.”

“Then I’ll be there, with my girls this year,” James said. “And as long as you let me know how your hacker friends got into our computer system, I’ll make sure that Kerry never finds out that you were involved.”

Lauren smirked. “Hacking your casino was easy because you never change your password. You’ve been using LordSexyPants55 since you first joined CHERUB.”

James jaw dropped, but he tried to brush it off as he disappeared into a mass of bodies, surrounded by casino security guards and members of the public. They reached out to shake James’ hand and begged fro autographs.

Bruce and Lauren headed the other way, walking down the now desolate red carpet, past the empty press pen and back towards the gazebo while the crowds continued pouring up the escalators.

“So, do you hear much from the old gang?” Bruce asked.

“I see Rat most days,” Lauren said.

“I mean apart from your husband,” Bruce said, laughing. “Kyle’s disappeared off my radar lately.”

Lauren nodded. “He wasn’t even at the last campus reunion. Gabrielle came out to Aus for a holiday last year with her husband. She’s earning big bucks working for a bank in Hong Kong. Bethany e-mails every now and then, but I haven’t seen her in years. And of course there’s people like Kevin and Dante, who’ve got jobs at CHERUB.”

“And Callum and Connor design skyscrapers,” Bruce said. “Did you see that thing they built in Taipei?”

“Monstrosity,” Lauren said. “But it won like a gazillion awards, so what do I know?”

“Next time you’re in Vegas, you must stay long enough to have dinner with my family,” Bruce said.

“Join us for Christmas out in Aus,” Lauren said. “I assume my brother pays you well enough to take the family on a good holiday once in a while.”

“He pays me a lot,” Bruce said. “But I’m not sure it’s enough for some of the messes I have to clean up, or some of his majesty’s little tantrums.”

“He can be such a pig,” Lauren said. “I’ve actually lost count of how many kids James has got now. Is it eight?”

“Ten,” Bruce said, “by six different women. But for all James’ money, and being the party boy clubbing ‘til 5am and hanging out with rock stars and being in the gossip columns, I don’t actually think he’s a very happy person.”

“Kerry?” Lauren asked.

“Obviously,” Bruce said solemnly. “James has always loved her and always will. But Kerry gave him more chances than he deserved and he still got his picture in the paper coming out of a nightclub with his hand up a stripper’s shirt.”

“If he’s unhappy he’s got nobody to blame but himself,” Lauren said firmly. “So, do you wanna stop off at a bar on the way to the airport? I don’t know about you, but I could murder a gin and tonic or five.”

Bruce looked at his watch. “Vegas is supposed to be a party town, isn’t it? So yeah, why the hell not?”

#CHERUB #cherub books #Robert Muchamore #Three Futures #James Adams #Bruce Norris #Lauren Adams #Kerry Chang

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