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nascenture · 1 year ago

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10 Reasons Why Having an MVP Makes a Huge Difference

Every business venture begins with an idea for a product. They vary in their efficacy. It's true that a lot of new products hit the market every year, but only a select few ever become truly iconic. Many of today's most popular websites, mobile applications, and gadgets didn't exactly get off to a smooth start. They, too, have had to overcome tremendous difficulties in order to boost earnings. It is terrible that the time and resources required to create a marketable piece of software are frequently undervalued.

However, they often postpone product launches and squander time and money on costly bug patches out of concern over losing sight of the original product's purpose. An MVP, or minimum viable product, is now necessary. Using the minimum viable product (MVP) methodology, developers may iteratively test, improve, and expand their solutions' functionality. An MVP's objectives are to facilitate early adoption, reduce development costs, and collect information and user input that may be used to inform subsequent versions. The following are some of the most compelling arguments for investing in an MVP for your company. Okay, let's have a peek at it.

Top Benefits of MVP

1. Identify Initial Customer Preferences & Optimize for Them

Discovering what features customers value most can be accomplished via MVP. In order to properly design your MVP, you must first determine who you are building it for. Assuming you have identified the target market for your product, you should be able to describe their problems and requirements. This is crucial since you'll need to be aware of the specific issues that they're facing in order to create and develop a product that addresses them. Market research and in-depth interviews with target clients could help with this. Gathering information about market trends, client profiles, and rival companies are all possible outcomes of market research. This can be accomplished in a variety of ways, including web research, surveys, focus groups, and more.

2. Test Your Key Features on Potential Customers

Find your target market and get them feedback on your product's essential features before releasing it to the public. In order to adjust your product or service concept to meet the requirements of your target market, you must gain a deeper understanding of their wants and needs. Determining who you want to buy from you will help you focus your marketing efforts and save money. All types of businesses can benefit from customer profiling since it improves their ability to proactively interact with potential customers and provide the best possible service to them.

3. Validate the Market Quickly and Cost Effectively

More accurately than marketing research, an MVP can confirm the need for your unique solution. Research can identify potential customers and establish a need for specific functions and services. Still, unlike an MVP, it can't tell you how the market will react to your particular implementation of the features you've picked. After releasing a minimum viable product (MVP), a business can see which demographics of consumers are the most engaged. Setting the correct objectives for future growth is simplified in light of this. Startups are not at risk of experiencing significant financial losses in the event of failure.

After implementing the required product modifications, it will have a fighting chance to rebound. Furthermore, a project may take years and tens of thousands of dollars to complete, depending on its complexity. Rapid market entry is possible without significant initial investment in an MVP version.

4. Save a Lot of Time Coming from An Idea to a Product

The sooner a product can get to market and begin gaining customers, the more likely it is to be successful. Obtaining more funding for product development is a major advantage of minimum viable products. As a result, a rapid start means quicker profits. You won't have to put in countless hours over the course of a decade before seeing any returns on your investment. Delays in the launch of an intriguing yet time-sensitive product might result in heavy financial losses. For instance, if a pandemic triggered a surge in demand for online delivery and healthcare services, it would be crucial to enter the market as quickly as feasible. A minimum viable product (MVP) is a great option for getting things rolling quickly.

5. Get User Feedback Early

A minimum viable product, or MVP, is a process that incorporates important product features and gives customers the ability to use those features and provide feedback to help your company work on future product development. A procedure that contains important product features that customers are able to utilize and provide feedback on to help your company work on future product development is referred to as a Minimum Viable Product (MVP). The objective is to glean as many insightful comments and suggestions from customers as is humanly possible while simultaneously reducing the amount of work done by the development team to an absolute minimum.

6. Better Understand User Flows and Engagement

With the end-users in mind, you must build the UX during the MVP development phase. You need to put yourself in the customer's shoes and experience your product all the way from app launch to completion of the desired action. In order to create a user flowchart, you must first identify the key steps in the overall procedure. The most important things to accomplish are things like making an account, shopping, handling orders, preparing paperwork, searching for information, keeping tabs on statistics, etc. Once you've determined the primary phases of your technique, it will be less difficult to specify the primary characteristics required for each stage.

7. Start Monetizing Sooner Than Later

Gaining substantial profits from a product is dependent on having a solid plan for making money off of it. Several methods of making money can be found nowadays. There are a variety of alternatives available, including freemium models, premium models, models with in-app purchases, models with advertisements, and so on. When you have finished developing your product, it might be difficult to choose the best method of making money off of it. The minimum viable product development method allows you to try out several approaches to revenue generation. Customers' opinions can help you determine if your app's current monetization strategy is sustainable.

8. Maximize ROI by Validating Your Assumptions Quickly

In business terms, an MVP will maximize your Return on Investment (ROI) by giving you early visibility over the website you intend to build, better prioritization for what must be built first, information about what does not need to be built, relevant feedback about the core, features in your first website release, relevant feedback about the features you intend to build in the next 3-6 months. Building an MVP website is preferable to build the whole solution in the beginning due to the fact that you will learn all the above information. At a fraction of the cost of creating a fully functional website all at once, you will receive results and user feedback.

9. Gain Valuable New Contacts and Connections Through Testing

By putting the whole app at risk while testing new business models or user interface designs. You don't have as much to lose when testing with a minimum viable product because you haven't invested too much time or money into its development. Before putting out the final product, you can verify your hypothesis and tweak it as much as you like. There is a significant possibility of rejection from buyers if you decide to release your product to the market. If this happens with a finished project, you could lose everything you've worked for. When using an MVP, you have less to lose in the event of a failure.

10. Establish Trust With Customers Earlier On in the Process

You should put in the time and effort to interact with your target audience as you get ready to release your minimum viable product. After launching your product, you can get feedback and usage statistics, but nothing beats really talking to your target audience in the wild about your product. One of the key purposes of your MVP will be to verify or disprove your product's usefulness. Find out from the people who will actually be using your product if it's anything they'd be interested in. In case it isn't, investigate the cause and incorporate the findings into future iterations of your minimum viable product.

Conclusion

If you want to make new software, you should think about making an MVP first. The MVP approach has a lot more advantages than possible disadvantages. This can be kept to a minimum if you choose the right strategy and focus on the core features of your product that directly meet customer needs. Another important part of a startup's success is picking an agile team of professional developers or using professional MVP consulting services to build a strong MVP and turn it into a product that lives up to its full potential.

#mvp development #software development #MVP for business

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crystal-moon-101 · 4 years ago

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Since I saw people talking about Ben's little big chill kids, I thought I'd finally do some headshots of my ones, who are also a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen. For me, I've always imagined that for young necrofriggians, they all start out looking the same (Beyond some size difference), but as they grow older, they'll start to develop their own patterns, small body traits and shades of colour, as showcased here. I'll share the little info on each sibling, and the basics of who they are as a person. When Ben first found them again, saving them from poachers and going full mum mode, they had been developing these different psychical traits, but not enough to identify each properly on their own, so while giving them names, Gwen used bandana pieces to colour code them, and each kid still wears theirs to this day, slightly modified. So here they are now, as full grown young adults. You can follow from left to right each row, or just the colours next to their names. -North (Black)- The largest and physically strongest of the kids, North acts as the leading member when Ben isn't around, doing their best to watch out for their siblings and be a middle ground to them. It's been this way since they were born, looking out for them and doing whatever they can to protect the others. This has resulted in North collecting quite a few scars and wing tears, though they wear them with pride, wanting to display how strong they are to others. They often looks up to Ben when it comes to being a hero, in how their mumdad protects others and the galaxy, and wants to be a fighter like him one day, often asking to train with their mumdad whenever he's around. Ben has suggested Plumber training for North, but they're still thinking about that. -Tundra (Red)- Tundra is a very curious one, and is known to wander off when things catch their interest. They prefer using experience to learn from, thus making them quick on their feet when something happens, and good at thinking logical. When the siblings are struggling with something, or come across some kind of problem, it's often Tundra who provides the quickest answers that should go well for them. That being said, due to their wandering, they gave gotten into trouble a few times and need to be saved by their siblings or Ben, as despite how smart they are, they can be a bit of a ditz when something catches their interest. -Grey (Silver)- Having a connection to the earth bellow, Grey often spends their time searching caves, and any hidden areas they can find. They especially love to research and find minerals of any kind, ranging from metals to gems, sometimes even studying their metal lunch for the day before eating it. Because of this, they can be carelessly dirty, and aren't the cleanest of people, but does pick up after themself when reminded. Grey is also pretty close with their sibling Storm, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Storm (Brown)- As someone who likes to spend a lot of time flying and high in the clouds, Storm is fascinated by the weather and how it behaves, and feeling the cold fresh air and challenging themself with flight training. This has provided them to have the most agility in the air, and knows the best ways to build up speeds, while also not draining themself. Whenever they aren't flying around, they're doing research on the weather, very keen to be a meteorologist one day. Whenever Ben visits, they will often ask him about the weather on other planets, and any adventures he's had in the sky. Storm is also pretty close with their sibling Grey, and surprising Gwen and Ben when first hearing the two call each other "Dweeb" and "Doofas", when first meeting them again. -Crystal (Blue)- Graceful on their feet, Crystal is a charming and gentle person, with a keenness for the art of dancing, especially when hovering in the air. This was something sparked in them when seeing how the patches in their wings, which are see through, glittered and reflected light through them, making Crystal often move around to see what they could get them to do, and the introduction of dancing was something they latched onto as a result. They are one of the hardest of the siblings to get angry, upset or rile up, and often goes with the flow and speaks in a slow and soft voice. Because of their kind nature and beautiful display of their wings, Crystal has attracted many others who are interested in them, many falling for them after meeting Crystal for a mere minute, though they tend to pretend not to notice, and turn down those who ask. -Orion (Orange)- Having an eye for art, Orion is a skilled painter and drawer, while also dabbling into other art forms to create things, their room filled with their works of art, and often creating gifts for others. From when they were little, Orion has always admired their auntie Gwen, and are always keen and eager to hang out with her when she visits, showing every new drawing and painting they have made while she was away. In fact their fondness for auntie Gwen is why they picked the orange bandana, as it reminded them of her hair. -Neva (Green)- Fashion focused and head strong, Neva is a keen one, who knows exactly what they like and isn't afraid to say it. They love designing things to wear, especially since fashion isn't that big on Kylmyys, and Ben brings them fabrics and items they request from earth whenever he comes by on a visit. Though, despite Neva's expensive tastes, they are most certainly aren't a snob, and more often than not create outfits and accessories for others that Neva knows they'd like, and wants to bring out the best beauty in them. Though admittedly, they can get a bit carried away if someone asks for fashion advice, or even brings up the idea of something related to it. Neva also a bit of a business mind too, having gotten some clients recently on their homeworld after seeing what Neva could make. -Raine (Aqua)- A very sweet young one, Raine has a keen eye for collecting things, particularly shiny or unknown stuff. From gemstones to simple earth utensil, if something interests them, Raine is known to take it with them, sometimes snatching without thinking. They don't mean any harm, and just sometimes think before acting, and will give something back if they've realized what they've done, but if it's clear they can keep it, then they aren't one to share, though do like to show off what they have with joy. They are also very well organized, knowing where everything they own is, and even when their siblings misplace something, having a photography memory and mental list of things. They may own a lot of stuff, but that doesn't mean they want to live in a pigsty. -Vale (Yellow)- Being one of the quiet ones, Vale likes to keep a lot to themself, and don't speak very often, only when they need to. They spend a lot of time outside, observing nature as it passes by them, using a little diary to note down what they see, hear, feel, smell and even taste. They like to appreciate silence and the world around them, and the beauty of nature, and collect little things to store away in their diary as memory. Whenever they visit earth, they love to visit the forests in the spring and summer, seeing the range of colours blooming from flowers, and has many flower prints because of this. -Lux (Beige)- Quite the basic of people, Lux likes to live life in a simple way, and tends to try and stare clear of any chaos, which is quite hard when you have 13 wild siblings. Because of them, they can come across as annoyed and frustrated at times, and can be blunt and honest, but they do love their siblings, and is often the one that says what's needed to be said. Lux also have massive wings compared to their body, a ratio none of the others have, and use to trip over their feet a lot growing up. Now, their massive wings are a great way to hide away when they're not in the mood to talk to read a book, or to hug a family member when seeing them down. -Micha (Pink)- Bubbly and sneaky, Micha has been dubbed the "Pink Ninja" for a reason, someone almost always able to hide away and sneak up on others. They love to jump scare people, and has found more and more crafty ways to get around without being noticed, even without their ability to go invisible. They love to pull jokes and get a laugh out of people, and Micha is known to have a snort with their own laughter. It's always their mission to catch Ben off guard when he visits, as each time it gets trickier due to him knowing it's coming, and his training and skills build up over the years, but Micha always finds a way in the end. -Zodiac (Gold)- Patient and often neutral toned, Zodiac is often seen to be pretty wise. From a young age, they've always loved stories from history, especially those about myths and legends they hear from around the galaxy, and spend a lot of their time reading and researching anything they hear about, always keen to hear a new story they may have never heard about before. It always fascinates them how much Ben has seen and done, and the stories he tells, Zodiac is practically fond of those about Alien X and Celestialsapians, and wants to meet one one day. -Alaska (White)- High on energy 99% of the time, Alaska is always zooming around and never has time to stop. They rarely sit still for long, and it takes a lot to drain them of their endless energy, always moving in a blink of an eye. Because of this, Alaska is the fastest of the crew, which has come in handy often. But they can be easily bored, and a little frustrating to deal with when they don't pay attention, but they do like to spend that energy by jumping around each sibling to spend the day with, and wants to engage in all of their activities to support them. -Arlo (Purple- The smallest of them, Arlo was born the runt of the group, but thanks to their siblings, especially North, they managed to survive childhood when most other necrofriggian runts would have died. This makes Arlo the baby of the group, and the one they all want to protect, even if it can be a little baring at much, wanting to prove they can be strong on their own. And Arlo somewhat got their wish, when reaching a certain age and Ben learning that one of his children had the spark, thus meaning Arlo is an Anodite, and is able to use magic, though they're far from being perfect at it, and their small body sometimes struggles to keep up. But each day Arlo practices, wanting to feel more than just the tiny one, but they are generally kind and great with emotions, being very supportive and just trying their hardest.

#ben 10 #B10 #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 original series #ben 10 ben tennyson #ben tennyson #Ben 10 Big Chill #Big Chill #necrofriggian #Baby Chills #Ben 10 Next Gen #next generation #My Art

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waywardstation · 3 years ago

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Tonight is a Thoughts Night so!! I must come here to yell ideas at you. ToT Emmett related thoughts, specifically!!

The little bit Soup(?) mentioned about “rift energy”… while he probably does not have a straight up Remnant like Ingo does, because he didn’t actually fall through the portal- what if the rift energy did something fun to his memories? Perhaps gave them a life of their own… in a way?

Little bits start falling off as Emmett’s mind runs them around the tracks over and over and over, straining himself with spirals of thoughts like “I should have fallen, I should have fallen but I didn’t and now Ingo’s gone, it’s my fault, if I’d never gotten so close…” and he starts developing patches in memory. MG Ingo catches on fairly quickly, and starts shutting down the memory cars to keep the memories from being further damaged. He intends to repair the memories, but the bits that fell off are… missing.

(They’ve run off down the tracks like wild animals, almost but not quite sentient, little snippets of memory that group together instinctively. As they gather, they merge, and as they merge they distort and get bigger. And quite suddenly, Emmett has a brand new collection of nightmares- twisted memories stitched together running around the tracks after the station’s closing times.)

All just hypotheticals of course! -PA

PA THANK YOU! I love your thoughts!!!

First off, for the rift energy thing to work, with that clinging to Emmet, I would think we should consider the idea that some people have had, where Emmet was originally supposed to be pulled through the rift, but Ingo pulled him out of the way, just go to through instead.

Because then, we can say that maybe some of the rift energy clung to Emmet when he was yanked back out. You’re right, it wouldn’t be the Remnant parasite that clung to Ingo’s mindscape, but it would still be something!

If this happens, Emmet’s self-blame would become even more apparent, and justified for why he’s being so hard on himself.

It would be interesting to contrast what’s going on with Ingo - he has the Remnant, and animalistic monster that knows it is alive, and is actively trying to tear the station apart. Meanwhile, Emmet has rift degradation. It’s like mental radiation, eating into memories. The ones that replay the most are on the tracks longer, and end up degrading faster. And in the mind station, this effect is much more clear, imitating nightmares.

We have discussed nightmares before and what they would look like in Ingo’s mind station. I think at one point, we discussed if they could possibly be things that stalk around the station at night, when Ingo is sleeping.

I assume in Emmet’s case, this would lead to lots more of these “nightmares” in the mind station, and they would be active in the mind station during the day as well. You can’t “escape” them when you wake up.

Obviously, this is a terrible, awful scenario. MG Ingo is going to try and suppress what he can.

(VERY SPECULATIVE and these were just initial thoughts that came to mind, but thank you so much for sharing PA! Even if they’re hypotheticals, I still love them!)

#train of thought au

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primalruination · 2 years ago

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Character Profile - Nehra Mewrilah

figured it was about time I got around to making profiles for my OCs so introducing my WoL, Nehra! still a work in progress but I wanted to at least have something. SPOILERS FOR ALL OF FFXIV!

BASICS//

Name: Nehra Mewrilah

Name Meaning: Nehra = "fondness" in Hindi

Unsundered Name: Atlas

Age: 26 as of Patch 6.2

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the Second Umbral Moon

Gender: Nonbinary and Trans Masculine (they/she)

Race: Miqo'te

Tribe: Keeper of the Moon

Nationality: Garlean

Languages: Eorzean Common Tongue and possesses the Echo

Profession: Warrior of Light

Education Level: Studied with conjurers for some time

BLOODLINES//

Father: unknown

Mother: Unnamed Miqo'te

Adopted Siblings: Lina and Mujih Mewrilah

Extended Family: Y'shtola Rhul (sister in law)

Children: Y'tali Mewrilah (Tali)

ROMANCE & SEXUALITY//

Sexual Orientation: Sapphic

Romantic Orientation: Sapphic

Significant Other: Y'vdola Vongola (Dola)

Past Relationship: Ysayle Dangoulain

RESIDENCE//

Place of Birth: southern Ilsabard

Current Residence: small cottage in Ishgard

TALENTS AND SKILLS//

Canonical Jobs: White Mage before 6.0, currently Sage

Good at: botany, mathematics, cooking, animal caretaking, magic, bug collecting

Bad At: melee jobs of any kind, heavy lifting

APPEARANCE//

Hair: messy, shoulder length, black with green highlights

Eyes: blue

Lips: Small, thin lips

Complexion: fair

Blemishes: very distinct white freckles on cheeks

Scars: cut on left cheek from tripping on a rock. top surgery scars. deep, long cut on outer right thigh from having a sword thrown at her while possessed by Zenos. huge scar along back from fighting off a sin eater.

Tattoos: a doodle of a carbuncle drawn by their daughter, Tali

Height: 5'4"

Weight: 135 pounds

Build: average

Usual Hairstyles: parted it to the side up until Shadowbringers, when they just decided to stop styling it

Usual Face Look: doesn't wear any makeup

Usual Clothing: light, breathable robes when out in the field. just wears handed down, beat up clothes when at home

Face and Voice Claim: Currently Undecided

PERSONALITY//

Extroverted

Positive Traits: affectionate, centered, charming, easygoing, empathetic, focused, happy-go-lucky

Negative Traits: disorganized, gullible, impulsive, insecure, withdrawn

Fears: losing her loved ones

Aspirations: growing a family with their wife Y'vdola

Traumas: Huge fear of losing her loved ones due to the death of her girlfriend, Ysayle. this was further deepened when Zenos nearly killed Nehra's wife while he had possession over Nehra's body.

Hobbies: triple triad, botany, entomology

Vices: Anger

Faith: The Twelve

Temperament: Sanguine

Soul Type: The Sage

Tropes: The Chosen One, The Mad Scientist, Believer, Devotee, Emotionally Repressed, Eternal Klutz, Peacemaker, Surprise Genius, Tortured Superhero, Troubled Vet, Unlikely Hero

Character Inspirations: Adora from She-ra and the Princesses of Power, Josephine Montilyet from Dragon Age, Wyll from Baldurs Gate 3

FAVORITES//

Deity: Menphina the Lover

Holiday: Starlight Celebration

Month: 5th Umbral Moon

Weather: A warm, clear spring day

Time of Day: Morning

Places: Old Sharlayan, The Black Shroud

ARR: Accidentally getting wound up in the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Nehra reluctantly joined them in their fight to save Eorzea. They felt like an outsider in the group.

HISTORY//

Pre-ARR: Nehra was born in a small Keeper of the Moon tribe in Southern Ilsabard. They were conscripted into the Imperial army at the age of 8, being used as a trauma healer for soldiers. They had frequent interactions with Zenos and developed an intense fear of him that stuck with them for a long time. When they were 15 they were finally able to escape being a soldier and immigrated into New Gridania, where they made friends with Mujih Mewrilah.

Heavensward: Grew deep, lasting friendships with Tataru and Alphinaud after the Bloody Banquet. Also became overly protective of the two, aggressively berating Estinien out of fear his thirst for revenge would endanger Alphinaud. Fell in love with Ysayle and formed a relationship with her, only to lose her shortly after her sacrifice is Azys Lla.

Stormblood: In the hopes of liberating the Ala Mhigans, Nehra journeyed to Rhalgrs Reach only for the crown prince of Garlemald, Zenos yae Galvus, to personally strike down the rebellion. During his attack, Nehra spots Zenos and freezes in fear. He doesn't recognize her at the time, but he quickly takes advantage of her moment of hesitation and attacks. Just before Zenos landed his final blow on the Warrior of Light, they are shielded by a Miqo'te named Y'vdola who takes the blow for Nehra. Nehra would later visit Y'vdola in the infirmary any time she could and the two fell in love. They then married after the Warrior of Light liberated Ala Mhigo.

Shadowbringers: WIP

Endwalker: WIP

NOTE: Nehra's story follows all of the major events of MSQ as they are the Warrior of Light.

#methinks #nehra mewrilah

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pedrosbish · 4 years ago

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still friends, not lovers

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: supposed unrequited feelings, angst, lil bit of fluff, rubbish

Colours of red and orange danced across the sky, painting everything below it in a calmness that was difficult to find nowadays. Your eyes follow the skyline until they fall upon the people working around you. The blue swishes of fabric proving their hard work as they collect the luminescent krill from their water farms, woven baskets holding the large numbers of their catches. The air is crisp as you breath in, your lungs expanding as it is filled with a freshness that you couldn't get in space.

It was calm here. A calmness that you needed.

You had stumbled into the open hatch of the Razor Crest in an attempt to get away from the rowdy group of men that had followed you in the seemingly quiet marketplace, calling you lewd names and promising you a good time if you slowed down for them. Their shouting had scared you to the nearby hangar and you had found the nearest ship that had luckily been open.

The commotion had attracted the resident who had been charting his next mission in the cockpit. The Mandalorian.

As soon as he had descended down the ladder and the group of men had spotted the shiny beskar, they had scattered- after all, everyone knew of the reputation of the infamous bounty hunter.

He was ready to turn you away, tell you that he wasn’t looking for any help or that he wasn’t prepared to harbour a lost soul, but then you had turned around, tears in your eyes and your chest heaving at an uncomfortable pace. You had quickly thanked him, covering your mouth in an attempt to hide the sob that forced its way up your throat before swiftly making your way to the exit.

He had stopped you, saying that you could stay as long as you could help him around his ship, patch anything that may be broken, clean up after yourself and stay out of his way.

Not too long after that, you had another addition to the Razor Crest. A little green thing that the Mandalorian had been tasked with to return to his own kind. Soon he had become another task for you to handle- you had to feed him, bath him, clean after him and make sure that he didn’t eat anything that may not be good for him.

As the weeks had gone on, the Mandalorian had realised the target that had been painted on the Child’s back and had decided that the three of you should take a short break from travelling and that is how you had ended up on Sorgan seeking refuge. It was short-lived as a small farming village needed help as a group was terrorising them. You could see the hesitation in the way the Mandalorian had carried himself but he could sense the desperation of the people.

Within days, with the help of the Mandalorian and Cara Dune, the group had been defeated and the tiny village had welcomed their saviours, telling them that they could stay as long as needed.

You had been prepared for anything that may have happened with your odd life with the Mandalorian and the Child. But you had not been prepared for the crush you had developed on the supposed “cold-hearted” man hidden beneath the beskar.

“Are you alright?”

The soft-spoken question makes you look up at the person standing before you. Omera. She had welcomed your odd little trio into her village with open arms, setting up a hut and offering to get you anything you needed. For such a quiet yet beautiful woman, her presence captured the attention of anyone around her and you had noticed how often the visor of the Mandalorian was trained on her, following every movement she made. He had been easily impressed with her determination to help protect her village, the love she had for her people and the kindness she had shown to the Child.

Your heart had cracked little by little the longer you stayed in the village, your attention solely focussed on trying to avoid being present in any interactions between the bounty hunter and the villager.

“Yes,” you say, looking at the fire being set up a little ways away. The Mandalorian stands next to it, hands on his hips as he watches the Child interact with the other children of the village. He must have sensed your staring as his helmet tilts towards you, watching, and you quickly look back up at Omera. “Sorry, I must have been daydreaming.”

She nods her head knowingly, tilting her head towards the fire. “We’re setting up for a meal if you would like to join?”

“Oh,” you glance towards the Mandalorian who is now slowly moving towards you and Omera. “I’m actually not that hungry. I-I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

Without looking back, you quickly make your way towards the hut where you hide under the covers and attempt to fall asleep, ignoring the way your heart thumps painfully in your chest and your eyes burn with unshed tears. You’re unaware of how much time passes but when you manage to crack your eyes open again, there’s a plate of untouched food next to your bed.

“Did you leave the food next to my bed?”

The Mandalorian glances up at you from his weapon, the gun becoming shinier with every wipe of the cloth over it.

“Yes,” he lays down his weapon next to him and gets up from his seat. “I noticed that you have not been eating much recently.”

He takes a step closer to you as you quietly whisper a ‘thank you’, too embarrassed to say anything else. Your breath hitches as he takes off a glove, pressing his bare hand to your forehead.

“You don’t feel sick,” he says quickly before putting his glove back on. “Please tell me what’s wrong Cyar’ika? Did I do something wrong?”

“Why- why would you say that?”

He sighs softly, tilting his visor towards the village before looking back at you. The small clearing around you is quiet, the wind blowing through the trees and the small animals making noises within the surrounding forest reaching your ears.

“You have barely spoken to me since we have been here and you have been avoiding me as well. I was worried that I may have done something to upset you-”

“I’m sorry,” your throat constricts as you look into the visor, imagining the eyes hidden beneath them. You can imagine the warmness in them as he looks at you, filling your heart with false hope. “I guess I'm just...restless.”

He nods his head, “Would you like to leave?”

Your eyes begin to burn and your face heats up as you realise what you have to do. “I think you should stay here. I can take the Child and return him to his own kind while- while you stay. With Omera.”

“What?”

You take a small step away from him, glancing at the village as you cross your arms over your chest. Your eyes are burning and you quickly wipe away a tear as it falls down your cheek. “C’mon, Mando. I see the way you look at her, like-like she’s the only person in the world. You clearly like her and I think she likes you too. You should stay, start a new life with her.”

“Is that what you want?” His eyebrows are scrunching with confusion underneath his helmet, his heart clenching as he watches the emotions play on your face. Heartbreak.

Hesitating with your answer, you shake your head and take a deep breath before squaring your shoulders and facing him. “No, no it isn’t. Mando, I am in love with you and I know you don’t like me in that way. That’s why you should stay.”

Silence.

Nodding your head, you turn away, ignoring the way your heart feels like it’s caving in on itself as you take his hesitation to mean rejection. “I’m going to go and pack our things. Goodbye Mando.”

“Wait!” He catches your wrist and tugs you into him. “Cyar’ika. Please don’t leave. I-I...dank farrick.”

His gloved hand cups your cheek and he tilts your head towards him, wiping a fallen tear away. Your breathing calms as his thumb rubs soothingly across your skin.

“Sweet girl,” his helmet falls softly upon your forehead and you close your eyes, your heart thumping wildly within your chest with a new found hope as he gently holds your hand to the beskar on his chest. “I am not good at emotions or words but what I feel for you...I cannot put it into words. But just know- just know that you mean the world to me.

“My interactions with Omera were not meant to be perceived as romantic and I am sorry if that is how you saw it. I-I want to be with you and the Child, if you will have me.”

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

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Humans are weird: The Hand of Andromeda Ch. 2 ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (New chapters will be posted first to patreon and then moved here)

The Ageis system was not what one would consider a pinnacle world of civilization in an age of interstellar travel. At best it was a backwater system deep in unclaimed space between the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic the system with only one habitable planet, Ageis Prime.

The planet itself was largely barren, consisting of entire continents of jagged rocks and acidic seas. Only a small belt of land near the equator was remotely capable of sustaining life and supported small clusters of forests isolated from the harsh surrounding landscape.

First development of the planet was made by the Xlaxon Mining Guild when a remote probe of theirs scanned the system and found valuable minerals scattered around the planet. Shortly after a group of indentured laborers were imported to the planet and a mining operation was established, initially consisting of a landing pad, machine shop, processing facility, and several other living quarters.

Just as the operation was about to get underway however the Xlaxon Mining Guild found itself drawn into what is now known as the “Guild Wars”, which were a series of escalating conflicts fought between rival mining organizations. To put it mildly the Xlaxon’s did not last long and were quickly consumed by a larger guild. In the confusion of the guild wars the newly establish mining operation on Ageis Prime was lost in paperwork and quickly became further isolated from the rest of the galaxy.

With no overseers left and a semi functional colony all to themselves the newly transplanted workers began to form their own society on the planet and carved out a small patch of the planet they could call their own. It was nothing to brag about, but given their limited resources they made due. Several years passed before the planet would encounter a small group of mercenaries that would change their destiny forever.

A group of mercenaries calling themselves “The Fishermen” landed on the planet, which had now grown into a dense urbanized city, looking to finally establish a base of operations. There was initial resentment from the inhabitants as the established ruler of the planet, a self-proclaimed warlord known as “Kevin the Heartless”, ordered his enforcers to drive off the mercenaries. The battle was swift and the better trained and armed mercenaries easily overpowered the enforcers with the struggle finally ending when the warlord himself had his head bitten off and spit out by the mercenary’s Predatorian leader.

The inhabitants were surprised to find their new overlord was much more merciful than they had expected. While the mercenaries did establish themselves on the planet they also brought with them a vast amount of wealth from numerous sources. The normal baggage train of any military group flocked to the planet and set up shop. Bars, brothels, weapons dealers, mechanic shops, and even an official branch of the intergalactic bank quickly set up as the mercenary band began to sell out their services. As their fame grew the group not only enriched themselves but oddly enough began investing in the planets community’s as well.

Schools and hospitals were built for the growing population, a new police force and government system was established for official recognition and participation by the people of Ageis Prime, and most beneficial of all were several terraforming towers that were installed around the planet which began replacing the harsh world with an increasingly comfortable climate. With all of these improvements the general population lauded the Fishermen and heaped praise after praise on to them.

In the span of three years Ageis Prime had gone from a forgotten backwater to the galactic hub of the dead zone of unclaimed space; a pillar of civilization in the dark void of forgotten space.

Yet for all their generosity, the Fishermen still controlled everything from the shadows. It was an unspoken law of the land that nothing of importance was done without their leader’s approval. Even to run in an election a nominee had to first come see their boss and present him or herself to see if they’d amuse the Predatorian; if he didn’t find them amusing than they were expected to drop out, lest an unfortunate accident befall them.

At any given time the mercenary group was contracted out between ten to fifteen jobs ranging from basic security details for high value personnel and facilities, to waging wars on distant planets on part of an ad hoc detachment. This abundance of work was rather common as both the Rylon Collective and Havatal Republic lacked the means to enforce their wills in the unclaimed systems between their two borders. This didn’t even come close to the dozen or so different criminal groups that inhabited this unclaimed space who were always in need of additional muscle.

There were of course rival organizations to the Fishermen such as the Abvara Syndicate, Pelpens Pirates, the Brotherhood of Orion, and the Band of the Hig who each had their own sizable forces; yet each of them were constantly switching between periods of stability and bloody internal struggles for leadership. This facet was not seen inside the Fishermen thanks not only to their structuring, but also to the visionary leader that formed and continued to lead the group even now.

Sitting at the very top of the organization was the Predatorian, a massive mound of raw muscle, sharpened teeth, and with a twisted sense of humor only psychopaths could fully appreciate. Rising from a former slave he had first formed the Fishermen from the same slaves he was freed alongside during a bloody slave uprising. After taking control of ship that had once held them captive he steered it to the nearest port and sold it off, then used the funds to train and equip the slaves into a standard fighting force.

His name was Mr. B.

No one in the organization knew if that was his real name or not but what they did know was not to mock it. The last person that did had their fingers bitten off one at a time by Mr. B before they were thrown out on to the street. Mr. B later said that hearing all their jokes about his name had made him hungry for some “finger food”. He was ruthlessly efficient in his work and he expected that from all those under him. His combat experience was rivaled only by the commando units of the galactic governments. Yet for all his combat talent and training he was not as skilled when it came to logistics and the day to day operations common for such a large group. Thus he was greatly benefited by his second in command who was aptly proficient in such matters at such a young age.

A nine and a half year old human child named Lizzy Stalwart.

If there was little known about Mr. B there was even less known about his adopted daughter Lizzy Stalwart. Freed from the same slave ship Mr. B had been previously held, she had been by his side ever since. Rumor was she had been the one to trigger the mass unlocking of cells on the ship which led to the ship wide revolt of slaves against their captors.

While Mr. B handled the military aspects of the group it was Lizzy that managed the books. She had a keen insight for numbers and was always able to keep the group well-armed and fed as they went contract to contract. A common saying among the grunts of the organization was that you’d never run out of blood with Mr. B, and never run out of bullets with Lizzy Stalwart.

Despite his brutish demeanor, Mr. B had a natural soft spot for Lizzy and he had taken her under his fin so to speak and had come to see her as his daughter. The two of them were set to take on whatever the galaxy could throw at them, and they had an army behind them to throw it right back for payback.

The transport shuttle slowly descended to street level before killing the thrusters. The bus driver checked his systems and pulled open the door latch to the street.

“Fisher HQ!” they called out to the passengers behind them.

Vick grabbed his satchel bag and hefted it over his should as he stood up and made his way to the door.

“Let me guess,” the bus driver said as he finally reached the front; his eyes taking him in for a moment before he smirked, “trying to swim with the big boys?”

Vick smiled at the man as he got off but didn’t answer him. The shuttle thrusters kicked back on and the craft once again rose upwards into the air before speeding off down the road leaving Vick in the billowing cloud of dust it left behind.

He coughed several times and swiped the dust from his eyes before the cloud parted and revealed his final destination; the headquarters of the mercenary Fisherman.

It was a vast compound just outside of the city limits easily taking up nine city blocks in size. It held its own private landing pads, medical facilities, housing and training grounds, munition depots and manufactures... It was like an entire city itself dedicated to killing for money.

From the moment he had quit his dead end job as a dish washer of Veega Ce, Vick Novikov had thought of nothing but this moment. He had spent every credit he had ever saved to purchase his passage off world and the compact pistol strapped to his right thigh.

No longer would he be looked down on by those around him, no longer would people shove him out of their way as if he was garbage in the street, no longer would kids throw fucking rocks at him and laugh like the little shits they were.

Today Vick was going to become someone new, someone better, someone to be respected and feared.

Today, Vick was going to become a Fisherman.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #story #Hand of Andromeda

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

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Hidden Love & High Society

Requested by Anon: “Can you do a Jisoo x fem reader where the reader is also an idol and Jisoo and the reader develop feelings for each other. But they're under super strict companies and Korea is a strict society so they're scared to admit their feelings. Some angst but a fluffy ending please!”

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,049

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Self Doubt, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: To the anon who requested: Thank you! I had a couple different ways I was going to go with this, but I think this version fits the best. I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading, everyone. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Falling in love with Kim Jisoo had been a gradual experience, beautifully terrifying and perfectly imperfect. You never intended it, especially with how strict your companies are, but there was no stopping it once it started. As much as you’ve tried to, you can’t deny the butterflies that take flight when your eyes meet, or how your heart skips a beat whenever she’s near. In your head, where you’ve convinced yourself this unrequited love will forever stay, things are perfect; you hold onto the memories there when the hard times come along, seeking solace in them. Sadly, the real world can never look like this -- especially for the two of you. Two women -- two idols, at that -- thrust into the limelight, immersed fully in Korean standards and societal roles. You don’t stand a chance against all of the odds, even with your group members at your side, behind you all the way. But with every stolen glance, every fleeting moment with her, your feelings become harder to hide. You’re only capable of so much pretending, and your cache is running out.

Being the leader of your group is a wonderful thing that you don’t take lightly, but it doesn’t come without its share of stress. The girls look up to you, always trusting you to take care of them and do what’s right, and that makes you want to be perfect for them. That fact doesn’t make the inner turmoil any easier for you: is it better to deny yourself of the one thing you want, for the sake of saving face? Or should you teach them to live for themselves, answering to no one else? That question persists in your mind, replaying like a mantra, working to drive you insane.

Jisoo is much the same: she knows how unforgiving and heinous the media can be, and she isn’t willing to risk the group’s reputation over a silly crush. A silly crush, she always tries to remind herself, although it becomes more difficult with every new memory she makes with you. She’s done well in concealing her emotions this long, but you make her feel weak; a part of her resents you for how easily you can turn her into a blushing mess. All of your little mannerisms and quirks fuel the flame in her heart, and she’s growing more and more fond of the feeling.

~~~~~~~

For Jisoo, nights like these are always the best: both of your groups are relaxing at the Blackpink dorm, everyone discussing the award show you just attended. The two of you are seated on adjacent couches, the rest of your members strewn about the room, some on the floor while others lounge on the sofas. From her spot, Jisoo has the most perfect view: warm light shines on you from the nearby lamp, accentuating your features in all the right ways. Her gaze softens as she watches you recount how it felt to hear that you’d won, your eyes bright and expression cheery. You rule her world without even knowing it, and sometimes she seriously considers just listening to her heart and admitting her feelings.

Lost in her thoughts of you, she doesn’t even realize that she’s leaned in closer, her eyes dropping down to your lips as you speak. You act like you don’t notice, doing your best to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks at the thought of having her full attention. There’s always been an unspoken tension between the two of you, and all of your members are aware of it. As Lisa takes control of the conversation, you sit back a bit, relaxing into the cushions of the loveseat. At the feeling of the material against your skin, you’re reminded of the time that Jisoo straddled you here, tickling you relentlessly as you squirmed and laughed. The memory, one of thousands that she’s the star of, brings a smile to your face.

Eventually the conversation shifts, with everyone ranting about how hungry they are. Of course, being the unnie that you are, you offer to make some food for everyone -- you enjoy cooking, but you also know that they’re all too lazy to make anything for themselves.

“Jisoo, would you care to help me? I know I’m pretty great and all, but I’m not so sure I can feed this gang by myself.”

She has to stop herself from agreeing before you’re even done asking. Needless to say, her smirk widens as she says, “I’d love to help,” before standing up and trailing in your wake.

As the two of you make your way out of the room, a quiet chorus of ooo’s can be heard from the girls. You send them a stern look, but it only makes them giggle even more than they already are. Jisoo’s thankful that you’re turned away from her right now -- she has to bite her lip to contain the dorky grin on her face.

~~~~~~~

Upon entering the kitchen, you retrieve two aprons from the hook located beside the other entryway. The room is spacious and open, with plenty of countertop to work on and even an island in the middle. Perfect, you think to yourself. Jisoo leans into you as she wraps the material of the apron around your form, securing it in place with a light tug. You help her right after, and try hard not to get distracted by the warmth that radiates from her.

To anyone other than the two of you, getting so flustered over such a simple act would seem ridiculous. You had long ago mastered the art of subtlety, though, quickly learning how important it is in your line of work. In a weird way, being so restricted added even more meaning to the small things -- light touches asking, “How was your day?”, soft smiles saying, “I’ve missed you.” Everything had a hidden message, a secret purpose between the two interacting. You spoke without words, living in a realm of quiet boldness.

Now, equally as giddy in each other's presence, the two of you begin cooking.

~~~~~~~

By some miracle, you had managed to whip out a fairly big meal for everyone in just under an hour. The spread consisted of ramen, tteokbokki, dumplings, soup, and some other random things your members requested. Quickly, everyone is called into the dining room, and they begin making their plates.

“Crap, I’ll be right back. I forgot to cut up the veggies.” You announce as you set off back to the kitchen, a pep in your step; preparing the food had made you realize just how hungry you are, and you want to hurry back. Perhaps that’s where your mistake laid; about halfway through the batch of veggies, in the rushed state that you were in, you miscalculated the slice, and the sharp edge of the knife cut into your finger. It wasn’t too deep, but it was enough to draw blood immediately, the red liquid running down your hand without restraint.

“Oww!!” You call out to no one in particular as the pain seeps in.

At the sound of your strained voice, Jisoo practically races to the kitchen to check on you. The other members are concerned too, but they know that she’ll take care of you. (Besides, they’re busy chowing down on the food... but we won’t mention that).

“Y/N?? What happened?” She’s frightened, completely worried about you.

You fill her in to the best of your ability, feeling a little lightheaded as you catch a glimpse of your hand. She wraps you in her embrace, steadying you, and grabs a towel. You’re unable to stop the pained hiss that leaves you at the pressure she adds to the tender skin in order to stop the bleeding. She sends you a regretful look, paired with a quick sorry, as she walks you to the bathroom.

Once there, she puts the lid down, carefully setting you down on the toilet. The cold surface of the porcelain makes you tense up, but it’s successful in taking your mind off the pain, if nothing else. Your eyes shyly trail up her body as she stands on her tippy toes, stretching up to reach the top shelf of the medicine cabinet. How does she manage to always look so good?

“Here, let’s rinse it off first.” It’s a request and a command wrapped into one, and you readily agree. One of her arms loops around your waist as she helps you stand, and you hold onto her with your good hand. She tries not to think about how your fingertips run over her collarbone, lightly stroking the skin there, absentmindedly. Focus, Jisoo, she tells herself. Even with the slight grimace on your face, you look breathtaking. After all, you’re art to her -- she would spend hours studying you if she could, imprinting every detail of you into her mind.

You lean against the smooth counter of the sink, feeling your hip bones press onto it, and you wobble a bit. Jisoo notices this, but both of her hands are busy with cleaning your injured one off -- thus, she does the next best thing: gently, she repositions herself so that one of her legs is behind you, and she presses her own hips into you. Once you’re secured against the counter, she puts her focus back on her previous task. Meanwhile your brain is having trouble functioning at the proximity of your bodies; she’s being bold. You steal a glance at her in the mirror, but she appears cool and collected -- the complete opposite of you right now.

After the bleeding has slowed dramatically, she returns you to your seat and grabs the bandages. She crouches in front of you, a reassuring smile on her lips as she makes sure you’re feeling okay. Once your finger is patched up, she takes you by surprise: she places a small kiss to it, her hands still cradled around yours lovingly.

Likely from the blood loss, a strange surge of confidence comes over you, and you reach forward to run your thumb across her bottom lip. She’s a little shocked, with how her eyes open a little wider and her breath hitches. The two of you stay like that, looking at each other, a silent war of wills being waged.

In that instant, Jisoo is forced to confront her feelings. She had long ago lost count of how many times she’s wanted to kiss you. To feel your body aligned with hers, your racing heart against her chest, minds running wild with all of the new possibilities being unlocked. It would be a huge step, no doubt -- one that offered no chance to turn back, no place for fear to reside any longer. It would feel like finally solving a puzzle, all of the pieces coming together in just the right ways. As terrifying as that leap would be to make, Jisoo would do it for you. The idea became a little less daunting with every step closer the two of you got to one another.

And so, she does. Jisoo leans forward fairly quickly, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss -- if she would’ve gone slower, she knows she would’ve chickened out. A light tremble runs through her, proving just how nervous she is. At first, you relax into the kiss, moving your lips against hers in perfect time; once your brain catches up with your heart, though, you pull away.

“I- I can’t,” you stutter out, mind still a little foggy at what just went down. You lick your lips without really meaning to.

Her expression quickly dims, now looking dejected at your rejection. As she goes to stand, one of your hands lands on the collar of her shirt, holding her in place -- you don’t want her to misunderstand you.

“If we do that, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Who says we have to? I’m sick of holding back.” Her hands are resting on your thighs now, eyes watching you intently as she waits for your response. She’s just a breath away from you, sitting right in the palm of your hand.

You panic and say, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

Your change of heart confuses her, but she respects your wishes nonetheless. Just as quickly as she had appeared before, she’s gone, leaving you to think about what just happened.

You sit there, already missing her presence, and you hate yourself a little more. How could you be so stupid? The opportunity was right there, ripe for the taking, circumstances perfectly aligned, and yet you let it all slip away. Even still, your mind justifies your cowardice for fear of the fall out that would ensue. This is for the best, though it hurts. Keeping Jisoo at arm’s length in the name of protecting her had become the customary thing to do, and you fell right back into the habit. To be with her is to limit her, and you can’t bear the thought of that. She deserves to be showered with love and attention all the time, not hidden away and forced into secret meetings. What kind of life would that be?

~~~~~~~

The rest of the evening hosts a newfound tension, one full of uncertainty and longing. The two of you are deep in your thoughts, neither of you knowing where to go from here. She tries to forget how your lips felt, the rhythm that they fell into with hers; but she can’t get it out of her head.

Before long, your members decide to call it a night, and you’re being whisked away. Somehow, it’s a combination of exactly what you want, and the complete opposite -- what are you to do now? Where do you stand with Jisoo? Your feelings are so overwhelming that it’s almost too much to handle; so many questions float around in your mind, begging to be answered by her.

Quick goodbyes are given, and you can’t find it in yourself to even hold her gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. Surely you’ve hurt her: knowing that fact is bad enough -- you can’t stand the thought of seeing the pain in her eyes, her smile even a little faded because of your own doing. It tears you up, and your speedy exit is a testament to that.

~~~~~~~

2:41 AM

You’ve spent the better part of the night tossing and turning with no hope of getting any sleep, no end in sight for this self-made torture. Regret runs through you every time you replay the events that unfolded, and you feel a little more hopeless with each passing second.

Why did she have to kiss you? It’s impossible to contain your feelings now, the emotions far too abundant to be bottled up any longer. Your lips remember how hers moved against them, her gloss spreading at the contact. She tasted like some tropical fruit, sweet and foreign on your tongue. Being with her is like taking a late night drive through the city, windows rolled down with the radio playing your favorite songs. She makes everything feel possible, somehow, and you secretly love the spontaneity of it all. You want more than anything to just give in, to relent after all this time. Clearly she feels the same, right? If that kiss meant anything, then surely she did. So why should you care about the rest of it? If being with you is what she wants, who are you to deny her?

~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Her voice is sleepy, yet it still holds a layer of shock; likely given the fact that you’re at her door at such an ungodly hour.

“Did I wake you up?”

She pauses for a beat, seemingly deciding on what to say, before replying, “...no. I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I,” you confess, hoping that she’ll put two and two together.

“Listen, I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have done that without asking first.” For a second, your heart stops, and you almost chicken out again.

“I’m glad you did, Jisoo. Because it made me realize how much I like you.” You listen to your heart, the admission coming out more confident than you expected.

She’s stunned, to say the least, her eyes blinking a few times in confusion. “I thought--” she starts, but you interrupt her.

“I’ve spent all of this time pushing you away when all I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you. To be with you. I’m just so scared of what people will say, you know? There’s no turning back after that.”

“I wouldn’t want to, Y/N. I’d rather be happy with you than live like this. To hell with them, they’re always gonna have something to say about us. You and I can figure it all out together.” She smiles at the end of her statement, a tender hue in her eyes that you’ve never quite seen before.

As you stand there in her doorway, the slight chill of the night breeze ghosting over your skin, giving you goosebumps, everything clicks. It feels like coming home, something that was always destined to be, and you can tell she feels it, too. You close the distance, finally allowing your walls to crumble away. Her arms are around you, and her presence is actively soothing any remaining fears you may have. Only she is capable of that; you’ve never felt safer than when you’re with her. You run a hand down her arm, lacing your fingers with her own in a sweet embrace. She relaxes into you, now able to trust that you won’t leave.

Though the kisses started off sweet, they’ve turned more desperate; the two of you are eager to make up for lost time, after all. Following an especially bruising kiss, you pull away breathlessly, and rest your forehead against hers. “Can I come in?” You ask shyly, ducking your head down a bit. Two of her fingers hook underneath your chin, raising your head so that your eyes can meet hers. “I’m not letting you get away this time.” With that, the two of you retreat to her room, hand in hand. You spend the night tangled up in each other, joining forces to write your new destiny together from scratch.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading!!!

#jisoo #kim jisoo #jisoo kim #jisoo x fem reader #jisoo x reader #blackpink #blackpink fluff #blackpink oneshots #blackpink imagines #kpop scenarios #fluff #kpop fluff #angst #jisoo imagine #let-them-read-fics #jisoo turtle rabbit kim

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royivia · 3 years ago

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The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I’m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.

#short story #original fiction #creative writing #writers of tumblr #fiction

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gosagacious · 4 years ago

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HAWK fails at a postapocalyptic future

I’m waiting for my copy of HAWK from the library, but from what I’ve heard from other readers, it sounds like it hasn’t changed much since the ARC. That’s frustrating. Partly because there were so many plot holes.

In Maximum Ride Forever, the world has been hit by a meteor, and then gone through not only that fallout but numerous weapons like a lab-created plague and nuclear bombs. Major cities are flooded, or cratered, or experiencing nuclear fallout. A significant part of the population is dead. We meet only a handful of adults. The vast majority of survivors who we see are children, and quite a few of those are mutants. The ending features a battle between child armies.

In MRF, we are given to believe that these are the people on whom the rebuilt future rests.

In HAWK, we get a completely different fallout.

Take all of that stuff from MRF and add in a four-year-long nuclear winter. The surviving child soldiers do have resources and can work on planning, but all the characters we know of go into underground bunkers to survive.

Eleven years after that – sixteen years total since the extinction-level event - there are multiple cities full of people of all ages. These cities feature skyscrapers, massive drug labs, evil science facilities, tanks, cars, guns with government chips in them, paved streets, plumbing. Film studios, movie cameras, animated cartoons! There is a hidden canyon city with houses carved into the walls, which one imagines would have taken a very long time, but which is apparently quite well-established. There are doctors and nurses. Where did they get their degrees? Are they all in their thirties and younger, or were they adults who we didn’t meet in MRF?

It’s difficult to tell the ratio of mutants to humans, but from what we see, mutants are occasional but rare. (So much for Itex’s plan to have their mutants rule the world.)

On to the social status quo. Now, bear in mind that Hawk never got an education and has lived in one place for as long as she can remember. Okay: Hawk does not know what the ocean is. She does not know what a squirrel is. She believes that horses and pandas are mythical creatures, and she talks about “Crismins” instead of Christmas.

More widely, everyone, including Americans, has adopted the metric system, people talk about the “gods” and some worship statues. Okay. Fine, I guess. I can even sort of take Max’s inspirational speech reminding the citizens that they deserve to be treated like human beings.

But it’s difficult to tell how much of this is Hawk being clueless and growing up in a hellhole of a city, and how much is meant to be genuine worldbuilding of “See! See how different this dark, gritty future is! See how much has been forgotten! Our main character has heard only a garbled version of the word ‘Christmas!’”

Except that it has been only sixteen years since the world ended. It has only been eleven years since they really had the chance to start rebuilding. I know we only see two cities and one prison island, and it’s hinted there’s more of a connection to the previous world in the free city of Tetra, but this is ridiculous.

Technology, infrastructure and population should be low. Connection to the previous world’s pop culture and society should be high. There are adults running around for whom sixteen years is only a fraction of their lives. There would still be teenagers who would have been born before the apocalypse.

Instead, the book treats things as if it has been much longer. High population, infrastructure and technology. Low connection to the previous world.

After sixteen years, things have changed so much that a girl born at the pivotal point does not know the word Christmas. She does not know what the ocean is; she has never heard anyone talk about islands, or cruises, or going to the beach. In a world where TV is a constant presence, she thinks horses are made up. But Christmas is what really gets me. Look at how much Christmas takes over stores and media around December. Are you telling me that in under two decades, people forgot the word Christmas?! They have TV and cartoons, and in the past decade and a half, nobody has ever cranked up some old carols??

After all this, I want to try a quick worldbuilding of what the Maximum Ride future might look like. This is just spitballing; there are any number of directions it could go.

What HAWK could look like if the future followed a sensible pattern:

To begin: after natural disasters, plague, nuclear bombings, and a four-year nuclear winter, you’d have a vastly shrunken population. Most of the characters seen in Maximum Ride Forever are orphaned children. There will be huge gaps in the age population. I’ll hypothesize that most adults died in the plague. By the time of HAWK, you probably don’t see anyone over 65, and even that might be pushing it.

On the other hand, I expect there will be a huge emphasis on repopulating the planet. The survival of the human race is still in question. Let’s say there was a baby boom right after the nuclear winter ended and people started leaving their bunkers. You see a lot of kids around 10-11 years old. Hawk will hardly ever meet anyone her age; she was born in a patch of time when pretty much nobody was having babies. There are no abusive orphanages. Children are far too treasured. Even if death rates are high and orphans are common, there will be people anxiously collecting up those orphans and raising them in a safe place. Hawk’s orphanage could still be a weird place, but the kids wouldn’t be disappearing or taken off to evil laboratories. Although—more on that in a minute.

By the time of HAWK, the Apocalypse’s shadow still looms; anyone 20 or older can remember where they were and what they were doing That Day. They reminisce to each other or to their children about the old days. Hawk can be skeptical, as in canon, that some of these stories are true. Enough people that the world was struggling with overpopulation? How is that possible?

The survivors are people who went down into bunkers. Let’s say there were bunkers scattered all over the world. You’ll get a lot of wacky survivalist types, and also probably some of those scientists and major businessmen who were talking about the end of the world in the older MR books, and who could afford to build bunkers. Speaking of which: Himmel! This was the main villain’s bunker that the Flock and their army of child soldiers ended up moving into. Chock-full of advanced technology.

The groups in these bunkers would have lived together for four years in close quarters, relying on each other to survive (or maybe fighting to the death, I don’t know). Groups like the one in Himmel will probably be incredibly close-knit. Even after the nuclear winter is over, it will make sense for people to use those bunkers as bases. Towns, and one day cities, will grow up around them. Some people may still live primarily in underground apartments.

Maybe (I could be pushing it here) there are some people who stayed out of the bunkers and ended up in a hunter-gatherer caveman-type existence. If they survived, this could be an important allyship or a source of tension with the bunker-dwellers. Do they join up? Do they keep their distance?

Major cities do not exist (so no “City of the Dead”). The older cities are uninhabitable and being reclaimed by nature, long stripped of resources even if they aren’t just piles of rubble. Most people are not concerned about rebuilding them right now, and there probably aren’t even enough surviving workers with the right knowledge; a lot of professions will have to be re-developed from the ground up. Suffice to say there are no new skyscrapers going up.

The immediate concern will be food. Agriculture will have suffered from the nuclear winter. Some people are working on traditional farms, but we do have that advanced technology from Himmel, and the surviving scientists will be in high demand for developing new food sources.

I’m thinking of lots of farming communities centered around the safety of the bunkers. They will spread outwards only gradually. And there was a large population of mutant “Aquatics”, so new towns may not necessarily be built on land. We could have towns built on or under the water, and farms focused on fish and seaweed.

Mutants make up a major percentage of the surviving population. There’s no more of scientists coming after mutants and picking them off. Mutants are the scientists now, in many cases; the mutant kids growing up in Himmel would have been studying the resources there and learning to build things necessary for the new world.

However, there’s a possibility of prejudice against mutants. Perhaps some of the human survivors, particularly from other bunkers, resent the mutants or see them as tied to the Apocalypse. The question of reproduction and having the human race survive? Maybe some people want humanity to be “pure.” They don’t want bird or fish DNA floating around in there.

There will likely be a problem of ruffian bands who try to raid these settlements for food. Sometimes settlements raid each other. There may also be corrupt administrations, or gangs who offer “protection.”

There isn’t the same kind of worldwide connection. Although they certainly have the technology for long-distance communication, it will take a long time to rebuild the infrastructure and carry it all over the world. The postal system is gone. The transportation system is gone. Instead of booking a flight at the airport, you ask your buddy Susan if she can give you a ride in her crop duster to the next settlement.

There are no huge, high-tech prisons, either. Nobody’s got the time or resources to devote to that, and there simply aren’t enough prisoners to fill up something like that. Prisons in this world? I’m picturing big old pits like in The Dark Knight Rises.

So here’s a shot at reworking the beginning of HAWK: Hawk’s parents leave her with a babysitter in a farming community, but while they’re away, it’s hit by raiders. In the destruction, along with food, the raiders also take kids to sell them. Hawk ends up in a weird orphanage obsessed with raising the new generation of the world and ensuring humanity’s survival. However, one of the administrators is bigoted against mutants, and when it’s discovered that Hawk is a mutant, she’s put aside with the other "non-ideal” kids, who are treated like servants. The orphanage might be under the “protection” of a gang - the Paters. Pietro can even still be around—except please less boring and maybe with a name that doesn’t sound like a tongue twister—and he might be a rare kid born around the same time as Hawk, maybe a year older, whose parents made it through the Apocalypse and kept their infant son alive because of their wealth.

That’s something I could have accepted. I can’t accept smacking Hawk in the middle of a generic dystopian city that seems a century or further into the future, when it should be only sixteen.

#hawk spoilers #hawk #maximum ride #spoilers

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a-shakespearean-in-paris · 5 years ago

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Thoughts on The Last of Us Part 2

This critique is spoiler heavy, so tread with caution. I also talk about more than the game. However, non-spoiler opinions: (and again, I want to stress this is my opinion)

This game does not have the same DNA as the first last of us. That’s not a total strike against LOUP2. Yet the first game succeeded so well in creating a relatively simple road trip narrative that was rooted around character growth, with the provoking questions it raised comknf naturally. TLOUP2 revolves so heavily on the message it’s trying to send, that the character and narrative writings suffers to mold around the parable...which doesn’t fully even succeed in that regard. Environments and game play however are pretty solid, and if you liked those aspects of the first game, they outdid themselves here, so you’ll probably like this game’s go around. Does it make it worthwhile to play? That’s a case by case basis, but I have to say that exploring the world made me want to continue the game. And if anything, I’d say this game is a relatively easy platinum trophy to collect. And despite this very long critique where I really dive in, (because that is what I do, it’s in my nature.) I’m glad I played, because I had an enjoyable experience.

anyway, on with the nitty gritty. Please keep in mind that even as I seem harsh, I did not hate this game. Aspects of it pissed me off , and I think it’s broken in a lot of respects, but certainly not a failure of design, game build, and acting.

When I think of the perfect sequel, (and please, bare with me) Shrek 2 comes to mind. It expands the world in a meaningful way, introduces new characters that seamlessly fit in with the dynamic, lets the established characters have more growth without cheapening what happened in the first part, and stays true to the core DNA of the first film. I’m not saying that all sequels need to follow this formula, (I love Silent Hill 2) but The Last of Us 2 was not a fulfilling sequel in any of these regards. Joel and Ellie in the first game, as well as the other characters, felt like real people who made decisions that made sense for their characters. In this game, we have a clumsily patched together narrative that is simultaneously simple and yet far too much for it to handle. This is not a narrative-driven story, but a parable about the dangers of revenge. And while not a bad parable to tell, I could easily pick up Moby Dick or a myriad of other works that detail the “revenge is all consuming and unhealthy” narrative. Now, was LOU particularly new with it’s story? No. But the characters made it worthwhile and fresh. Additionally, the narrative of this game is so riddled with hypocrisy that the parable it’s trying to tell almost misses the mark.

Before further diving in, I also want to talk about one more detour as a preface: Game of Thrones season 8 (and please, bare with me again.) My biggest issue with season eight was how unearned everything was. Most egregiously and infamously, Dany and Jaime’s fates was not rooted in her past actions, therefore making their fates make sense, but rooted in the final outline Benioff and Weiss had. The writers had a plan, and they made the characters fit that plan no matter what, no matter that the characters had grown and changed and had arcs that didn’t make sense with the final plan, leaving a lot of people, including me, note how unearned everything was. LOU2 feels similar. Druckman had a plan, and he made the characters fit that plan, no matter how many gaps in logic there was, no matter how unearned it was. Joel dying the way he did was not very Joel-like as established in LOU. That man noticed an ambush right on sight as he was driving with Ellie into Pittsburgh, while this Joel walks right into an ambush and let’s himself be cornered by a group of unknown people. Maybe you can say that he got softer living in Jackson, or the storm gave no alternatives, but it reads to me as more as Druckman needed Joel to die to set off his plot.

And with that, now’s a good time to talk about Abby, because rather than being an organic character that fits seamlessly into the narrative, she feels inelegantly shoved into the game to fit the message and parable. In the prologue we learn little about Abby and are forced to run away and learn about the game mechanics with her, and most players are here to continue Joel and Ellie’s story, so cutting away to this new character away from Ellie is intrusive. You as a player may have also have heard Druckmann say Ellie was the only playable character and purposely avoided the leaks, so you’re bamboozled as well. It gets worse after we shift to Abby for a good ten hours after Ellie kills Owen and Mel. We’re supposed to feel compelled to play as Abby for a ten hour needlessly complicated side quest when the game jarringly cuts to her...even though she mercilessly beat Joel with a golf club and just shot Jesse, who, IMO, is one of the most likable new characters (and also one of the many minority characters in the LOU franchise that serve as props to the main characters and ultimately meets a sad end, but that aspect of the game is worthy of a whole other post.)

Playing as Abby for as long as you do at the halfway point is a tough and unearned pill to swallow, not helped by the fact that we know how this long extended flashback is going to end, so the stakes are never high. No matter what happens, Owen, Mel, Nora and Alice are going to die, and Abby is going to find Ellie. Furthermore, you’ve spent a long time as a player buffing Ellie with supplements, upgrading weapons, and using her arsenal. Suddenly, you have to rewire you’re playstyle and get used to new weapons. They’re not totally different, but I can see how going back to square one when you’re halfway through the game can put a player off really quickly. I read the leaks so I knew this was coming, but I had no clue how bloated this section would be with the meandering plot and WLF/ Seraphite conflicts that still somehow aren’t explained well enough. In Abby’s section, plot things and character development things go at such a hyper speed, with relationships developing mega quickly, that I had a hard time believing it, especially compared to the first game when relationships took time and were earned. I think the sex scene is a good metaphor for this section of the game as a whole. they talk, talk, talk about unrelated things, Abby pushes Owen, and then they randomly have sex. which by the way, was done pretty tastelessly in my opinion. ND could have just cut away when they started making out, or if you absolutely had to hold the frame, if you really had the actors to do that in mocap suits, maybe make the situation more morally grey...because it is morally grey. Owen has a baby on the way with another woman. What a way to endear these two characters. I’m not one who gets squeamish with sex in media, and I understand the game’s M rating has a warning. But when you cut away a love scene between two women before things get too heated, but have no problem with showing that, I’m going to raise some eyebrows.

Abby’s section is like an overly complicated side quest in the larger narrative, with missions that have little to nothing to do with Ellie, so watching Abby’s story play out doesn’t feel like a meaningful look into the character and world we don’t get as Ellie, but an overtly complicated way ND created to get us to like Abby and invest us in her found family. But it took a whole game and about a full year for Ellie and Joel to be father and daughter, and by the end of Abby’s section we’re expected to believe she and Lev have that same bond. It’s so glaringly apparent that they were trying to mirror Ellie and Joel with Abby and Lev, but they banked so hard on us as the player assuming and understanding that aspect, that the development wasn’t cultivated well enough for me. I think more time was needed--especially since you don’t even meet Lev and Yara until you’re an hour or so into her story. Abby’s section feels like a whole other game was tacked on, and not a piece of the puzzle that neatly fits into the larger narrative. In fact, both Lev and Yara feel like tacked on props to make Abby more likable.

However, ND is inconsistent with this likability factor, because there are key elements to Abby’s writing that don’t make her endearing to the player. Unlike Ellie, who is visibly shaken with each kill, Abby displays no regrets whatsoever. She doesn’t have any qualms killing her fellow WLF soldiers later in the game, but more infuriating for players, she has no regrets about killing Joel. She does it, and she moves on. The game even seems to celebrate her, with some of her friends saying he deserved worse, despite the fact that Ellie was on the floor crying and begging for her to stop. (BTW Mel is pretty hypocritical to me. At one point she says she regrets taking part in Joel’s murder, but during it, she wanted Ellie killed. Then later says Joel’s death was too brutal...even if he deserved worse? It’s just another thread of inconsistency in this game.)

Abby not thinking things through when Ellie is crying on the floor before Joel’s murder is another example of characters making strange, if not outright bad decisions because Neil needs his plot. Abby could have put the pieces together, realized Joel wanted to save Ellie because clearly they care about each other, and yes he did a bad thing and killed her father, but if there’s a crying girl on the floor, maybe he did it because of love. (Or she could have just killed Tommy and Ellie because what’s stopping her from thinking they won’t want revenge like she does? But again, Druckmann needs his plot.)

But no, Abby is merciless, and then suddenly in her POV chapters she’s pretty cool to Yara and Lev and wants to help them out. And yes, they saved her from death...but Joel saved her from death too. It could have been so interesting if Abby and Joel were forced to work together longer, maybe she meets Ellie, and then she’s conflicted about extracting revenge. But okay, fine. She takes her revenge and the game moves on. Okay. But Ellie, who I remind, is vilified and punished by losing Dina and the baby in the game, has regrets and is shaken up by her revengeful deeds, while Abby, who is also pretty bad, gets rewarded. If Druckmann wanted to really write a revenge parable, it needed to be clearer that revenge didn’t make Abby happy or fulfill her. If that would have happened, and if time was taken to develop the Lev and Yara subplot, it could have been interesting to see Abby’s story.

Ellie’s characterization in this game is a point of contention for me as well. Some reviewers have said she makes decisions that are so outlandish it’s akin to Dany in GOT season eight, and I don’t disagree. Now, the game implies Ellie continuously puts herself at risk, leaves her friends, and sets off on a near suicide mission because she has PTSD from what happened to Joel, along with a lot of guilt for not patching things up to him. Druckmann and Halley Gross even confirmed in an Indie Wire interview that Ellie has PTSD. Now, there are so many negative stereotypes against people with PTSD as outlined by Psychology Today and other sources. There’s misconceptions that they’re violent and dangerous, and it can’t be treated. I don’t think Druckmann was outright suggesting Ellie went on her rampage of revenge specifically because of this, in fact I think the truth of the matter is he wanted to say something deep and artsy with this game, and Ellie and Abby are props to the message. (Supported by pre release statements of ND saying they wouldn’t call this game fun--it’s art.) That being said, this equation doesn’t sit right with me. More broadly I don’t like the fact that Ellie has been a prop in this game so Druckmann can say something deep (tm) especially when the last game did such a good job molding her character and honoring her in an organic way as the plot moved forward. The way they used her here just didn’t feel right.

Also, like to mention Ellie didn’t go to Santa Barbara to meet Abby again until Tommy’s major guilt trip at the farm, which was a wildly out of character moment in itself. But again, in this game, there’s a script, and we needed a way to trigger Ellie’s journey to Santa Barbara. But looking at the first game, Tommy berates Joel for the lengths he went to to ensure their survival, even saying at one point “it wasn’t worth it.” Now Tommy is all of a sudden going to not take the high road and demand Ellie extract revenge when he can’t? Heck, when Abby had Tommy pinned to the ground in the theatre he told her to go and save herself. When tommy came to her after Joel’s death he actively tried to talk her out of going to Seattle. Now maybe you can say that “oh Abby shot Tommy and now he’s relationship with Maria is in shambles...” but it didn’t compute with me. (And damn, can anyone be in a happy romantic relationship in these games?) But again, Druckmann wants a final fight, where the biggest waste of opportunity is squandered. We could have had a moment where Ellie and Abby talk it out, maybe Ellie telling Abby that she cared for Joel despite what he did (though ho boy, more on that later.) and Abby realizing hmm, maybe what I did was kind of morally grey and we’re not so different at the least. If this parable was going to work, Abby had to have an epiphany about her own deeds in addition to Ellie, and Ellie can’t be vilified while Abby isn’t.

This game also cheapens the last game’s ending. Joel’s morally grey choice at the end part one is rendered into an indisputably bad choice, because he took away Ellie’s choice. Are we forgetting the fireflies, and Jerry, Abby’s dad that we’re supposed to like, (based on the flashback, which, BTW didn’t work for me, I think Jerry’s an ass) weren’t giving Ellie a choice either? The ending of TLOU asked some fantastic questions about the nature of love without forcing it, and this game completely does away with that ending via telling us how bad Joel is and how he wronged Ellie. I can’t really replay the first game now without thinking of how the sequel cheapens that ending. Overall, the message and thought-provoking questions in LOU came naturally with Joel and Ellie’s development. It was elegantly done and expertly crafted. However, this game is so focused on it’s message and so focused on being an art house drama, that not only do the characters bend to fit the message, but it’s rudely it’s beaten over your head with the final shots of a lone guitar. However, playing through the game for me, seeing the cracks, the message fell flat. Want to tell a parable like this? Go ahead, but make sure it’s delivered well , paced well, and crafted well. I don’t think this game succeeded in any of those regards.

As others have stated, the game is needlessly dark, and though there are moments of calm and light, they are not as frequent as the first game, and all but dissolve toward the end of the story. Obviously ND couldn’t help the current situation of the world the game was released into, but I am tired of this trend of dark narratives and SuBerTing ExpECtatIons that Thrones also pulled, and the easiest, laziest tactic media has used lately to get people talking about their stories: doing things for shock value. Expectations were maybe subverted and there was definite shock value by having Joel die at the beginning, but the events that follow are so bizarre and unearned with Ellie’s vilification and Abby’s “redemption,” that I’m not mad that he died, I’m mad he was fridged to make way for this sloppy mess of a story. And I have to point out that so many of us had a feeling Joel was going to die in this game, that frankly my expectations would have been subverted if he lived.

Now with this segue, I think now I should probably mention the elephant in the room: the pre-release footage. Images were altered to make players believe Joel meets Ellie in Seattle, but we know now that it was Jesse. Sony was banking on the fact that fans of the first game love Ellie and Joel so much, that they used their relationship to sell the game and pretty much deceive the player. The fact that the game is very much not about Ellie and Joel’s further development is not only deceptive, but kind of cruel. Games are expensive. People pre-ordered this game expecting one thing and got another. Doesn’t sit right with me. If Sony/ ND had faith in Abby’s story the secrecy wouldn’t have been necessary, but keeping her out of the marketing save for one time, with Druckmann out right lying at one point by saying you only play as Ellie, it just proves that someone in the marketing department had no faith in Abby. Now, I think this is all rooted in anti-spoiler culture, and no doubt that had a big impact on this game and the marketing behind it. Though this is another, albeit related rant, I am tired of the current climate of “keeping the secrets and remaining spoiler free.” Sure, spoilers can ruin some surprise, and it’s not cool to needlessly spoil something for someone, but spoilers should not ruin the experience of seeing a story unfold. We all know the damn ship is going to sink in Titanic, and a lot of people love that movie. Heck. I played the first LOU completely spoiled. I wanted to see what the fuss was about and read the Wiki page. I still cried, I still fell in love. I get maybe wanting the player to be surprised that Abby has such a big section, or even that’s she’s playable, but when Abby’s story can make or break how you feel about this game, I raise some eyebrows at the marketing.

As I said, I did read the leaks when they came out. Why? Well, I’m not averse to being spoiled and GOT kind of burned me before. I am glad I read the leaks because knowing what to expect certainly eased things for me, and got me used to playing as Abby in a way that going in blind wouldn’t have. It was easier for me to bunker down and accept playing as her, but her story is so needlessly bloated and has nothing to do with Ellie’s up until the end. Her section solely exists just to get the player to like her. As I outlined however, the fragments in her story are broken and don’t come together to form a flattering picture. Sure in her sections you get some, albeit, minimal context to the goings on of Ellie’s chapters and the whole WLF/ Seraphite conflict, but not much to make it interesting or illuminate things further. A lot of it was there just to make you feel like crap for the things you were forced to do as Ellie. Alice was a good girl wasn’t she? Shame on Ellie for killing her in self-defense! And I understand the flashbacks were supposed to mirror Ellie’s flashbacks, but part of me rolled my eyes as I realized I was enduring a damn flashback within a flashback. What kind of a meta world, and an uncool one at that, is the game in? (Heck at one point Abby said “fucking video games” so IDK) I think the game could have been better if you played both sections concurrently--some of Abby’s, some of Ellie’s instead of having an entire flashback to play through as Abby. But I can only guess the game did it this way because of good old spoiler culture and they only wanted early reviewers to talk about certain things. (Heck early reviews pre release had an embargo. Reviewers were forbidden from mentioning anything in the last half of the game.)And truth to be told I think Abby’s sections needed a huge overhaul. Actually I think the whole story of the game needed a huge overhaul, but that’s probably apparent from this long diatribe. However, I maintain that this was the Last of us sequel ND wanted to tell, the crafting needed to be improved.

So what did I like? Well, I liked exploring the world and I liked the ease of the beginning of the game, and...the boat section was kind of cool? now initially I thought Ellie’s romance with Dina seemed pretty rushed, but as you play the game, you realize they’ve known each other for a long time at this point, and it makes more sense. The two have a lot of chemistry that makes the relationship feel more authentic, especially as you roam Downtown Seattle. Playing as Ellie and exploring Seattle was my favorite parts of the game. I really liked the semi-open world section at the beginning, though it didn’t mesh well with the rest of the linear narrative. I hope in future games ND does do something similar and makes the whole game have pockets of open-world esque exploration throughout, and not just one part

I tore Abby’s section apart a lot, but there was also good stuff going on there too. I did Yara and Lev a lot, just wish there would have been more time to develop them. The hospital chapter was wild and fun...the most effective horror chapter in the game, with a big ass monster straight out of Resident Evil. Even if it was gross. And of course, the environments were downright breathtaking, and exploring Seattle made me want to continue. The Aquarium was my favorite location overall, as I found it beautifully rendered and a good focal point for the game. I also find it super fitting Abby and Ellie have their first fight in a theatre. It’s almost like Druckmann’s trying to make a point about how violence is a commodity...kind of like us playing this really violent game and they’re using violence to sell it to you, even though the game punishes you for doing actions you have no say in.

I may have been a tiny bit sarcastic there, but I did enjoy the Ellie/Abby fight, and even if I knew the outcome, it did a great job of putting me on edge. I really didn’t want to hurt Ellie, but seeing how Ellie fights from the other angle was pretty interesting. After that fight however it was pretty draggy to have to do it again in Santa Barbara as Ellie. On a related note, there were too many brawls like that in the game. You have no weapons, just fist brawls twice with cult randos as Abby and then two with Ellie and Abby in the game. Could have trimmed those down, because they kind of wore out their welcome. And while we’re at it, good grief the ending DRAGGED. Maybe that was done on purpose to prove the lengths Ellie will go, but I wasn’t a fan.

Look, a part of me can kind of appreciate what ND was trying to do with this game, I just think that the execution was poor, and a lot of small specifics of things that happened in the game were done in poor taste. Pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit a cohesive whole, and the message is pretty grim and broken because of hypocrisies in the narratives. A lot of people are saying its an apocalypse game, of course it’s going to be dark and nihilistic, but the first game wasn’t nihilistic. It was hopeful, and benefited from the simple story it told. Druckmann always said Part 2 would be a hate story, and that’s fine, but I think it was just so committed to that idea the game suffered and became manipulative. I think now we’re now entering a debate about “can video games be art and have messages?” or “should video games just be fun?” and I really think video games can be art. However, there has to be something in the game that makes you want to continue, and that something is usually “fun.” Video games aren’t like movies. We’re not voyeurs that watch. We’re actually in control of the characters. That has an impact.

if you read all of this, I commend you. thanks! Really needed to pound out all my thoughts and now I can (hopefully) move on with my life.

#tloup2 spoilers #tlou2 spoilers #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part 2 spoilers #I just want to write this and be done because I'm tired #this got long #lou2 #tlou2

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years ago

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S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

A/n: y/n and max bonding time !! ☺ we love and support healthy female friendships in this fic 😚

||3rd Person POV||

The rickety wooden door to the Byers shed is ripped open, and Hopper tugs at the pull chain bathing the shed in a dusty yellow light. To his left stands Mike and Y/n who accompany him, and he shakes his head with a decisive nod.

"Yeah, this'll work."

The young Henderson girl can't help but sigh at the irony of this room being the setting of the interrogation with the monster that took over Will. Given this was the very place he was taken. Y/n had not found out this particular detail until weeks after his full recovery. He had shared this with her on the same day she had shared her powers with him.

How drastically everything had changed since then.

And deep down she knew, things would only continue to change. It was a feeling of absolute certainty deep in her core. She knew it to be true just as sure she was that the sunset in the evening and rose in the morning; Nothing would ever be the same again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The shed had been empty in a matter of minutes thanks to Hopper. After the details of the plan began to cement, Y/n lingered behind for the majority of this allotted time to help the man clear the room of all its contents, though she was soon called inside to help Mike and the others prepare.

Nancy and Steve now stood alone in the shed, having been tasked with the job of covering the shed's walls. For several minutes they worked in an amplified silence beside the constant ripping of duct tape and sharp thuds from the staple gun.

Nancy was the first to break this silence.

"Hey," Steve stepped down from the stool to reload his staple gun, and he turns to meet the girl's gentle smile. "What you did, um, helping the kids... that was... really cool."

"Yeah," he mutters, breaking away from her tempting gaze and returning to his work on the stool. "Those little shits are real trouble, you know?"

Nancy nods, fighting a smile as she returns to her roll of duck tape. "Believe me, I know."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Outside and just around the corner of the yard, Lucas and Dustin finished emptying the contents of the trash and kneeled down to the grass to examine its contents for any useful materials for the walls.

Not unlike Nancy, Dustin decides to take advantage of the brief calm before the storm to reconcile with the boy beside him.

"Hey," Dustin eases. "I'm... I'm sorry about Dart and all. I guess I just thought that he was my friend."

Lucas does not fail to notice Dustin's dry scoff at himself at his own realization.

"I was wrong. I broke the rule of law, so if you want your girlfriend to take over my spot in the party, I understand."

Lucas laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. "She's not my girlfriend."

"I saw you two holding hands in the bus, Lucas."

"She was just scared."

"Maybe," Dustin nods sadly. "but I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

Dustin looks at his friend sincerely, finally understanding what Steve had told him about.

"The electricity."

With that, Dustin balls up his findings of newspaper for the shed and rises to his feet, heading around the house. Lucas sits in careful contemplation at his words, unable to shake the swarm of thoughts they had brought.

He merely sighs, and returns to work, his head and heart buzzing.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Max and Mike sit in silence in the kitchen. Mike with his head in the cupboard as he fishes for supplies and Max beside him on the floor stitching together strips of cardboard with duct tape. She smiles fondly.

"I get it now," She says.

Without turning around, Mike throws back a grumbled response. "Get what?"

She quirks a brow, still a hint of an understanding smile. "You know, why Y/n's your druid? El too, I get why she was your mage."

The sudden and unexpected mention of El is what breaks Mike's attention away from his task, and he looks over his shoulder at Max pointedly.

"What?"

"Well, the whole 'Y/n saving our asses in the junkyard' show was kind of a tip-off," she begins jokingly, but it stops when she notices the warning in his eyes, and she softens. "Lucas. He told me about her. El, I mean."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have." Mike spits back.

Max listens unsurprised at his hostile attitude towards her, though it doesn't change her offense at his venom.

"And just because you know the truth, it doesn't mean you're in our party. You do know that, right?"

A rather light thump comes from down the hall, followed by a small string of hushed cursing. It grabs their attention only briefly before they dismiss it altogether, knowing they weren't the only ones rushing around in preparation.

"Y-yeah, I know," Max visibly deflates, returning her attention to the carboard in her hands, and scoffs sadly. "I mean, why would you want a stupid zoomer in your party anyway?"

Mike stifles a glance in her direction but returns to the cupboard in an attempt to move on.

"I'm just saying, El?" Max continues gently. "She sounds like she was really awesome."

"Yeah, she was," Mike concludes, closing the cupboard doors and collecting what he had gathered. "Until that thing took her. Just like it took Bob."

Mike rises to his feet, managing to cast one more cold glance at the girl as he heads for the back door, leaving her all alone.

Max frowns, feeling yet another prick of defeat and anger from the boy's stubborn ways. Bitterly, she rips another strip of tape from the roll, finishing off another tube of cardboard for the leg of the stool meant for Will.

It was tedious work, going to the extreme of disguising a chair but necessary according to Joyce and the others closest to Will. They couldn't risk a single identifiable object that could possibly clue in Will as to where they were. And that included a simple stool that had belonged to the Byers for years.

Max sighed when she heard the shuffling of footsteps behind her, and without looking she casts a sour look over her shoulder towards who she believed to be Mike.

"Forget something, maybe another insult? Well, you haven't told me how annoying I am in the last ten minutes, so naturally, you must be dying inside,"

"Well, I wouldn't say annoying. Persistent, maybe, but that's hardly an insult," chirped a familiar voice that certainly wasn't Mike.

Relieved, Max saw Y/n approach the kitchen table, her arms overflowing with cardboard and newspaper that threatened to spill. Quickly, she dispenses them on the existing pile on the table.

Max cracked a smile that lasted only seconds and returned to her gaze to her work. "Thought you were Mike," she mumbled.

Y/n's gentle and light-hearted demeanor melted into that of empathy for the girl. She sighs, wondering how she could possibly ease the tension in the room and settles on grabbing her own squares of cardboard. She joins Max on the kitchen floor. The two begin to work in silence for a good few moments when Y/n softly speaks up.

"I don't know if you know this, but, I used to be the outsider of the group,"

Max says nothing, but she looks up from her finishing touches on the stool to look at Y/n, her interest piqued. Y/n is still fixed on her own pieces, and she reaches for a patch of tape, her eyes meeting with Max casually and briefly.

"When Dustin and I moved here in the fourth grade, I had a hard time making friends. I had some, back in y/h/t, but moving was kind of hard on me, and over time I lost touch."

Max was now watching Y/n studiously, more or less a bit surprised at how similar it sounded to her own experiences.

"Dustin had more luck socializing here than I did, and... I got pretty lonely." She grabs another strip of cardboard and tape. "Eventually, he started bringing his new friends over. Like, all the time. It only reminded me of how lonely I was, and, even though I knew he wasn't trying to, it felt like Dustin was rubbing it in."

Max frowned softly, unable to imagine the kid would want to do something like that. And she had only known him a week. Nevertheless, she stayed silent, listening closely.

A weak and almost non-audible chuckle escaped the Henderson girl.

"I was always on the outside looking in," her voice quieted sadly, her brows knitted together in a frown. "They had their own inside jokes, games. Their own secret language, everything. Stuff even I didn't have with my old friends. And for a long time, I was just 'Dustin's sister'."

Unable to bite back her curiosity, Max finally spoke, now completely invested in her story. "So what changed?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Y/n's face, clearly recalling a warm memory she hadn't thought of in a long time.

"Will," Y/n finally looked away from her work and met Max's gaze. "He fought for me. He helped me stand up to them, specifically my brother. The others were way easier to convince, it was Dustin that put up a fight."

Y/n sighs softly, dispelling the weight settling on her heart. She looks at her new friend determinedly, Mike's harsh words to Max she had inadvertently overheard ringing in her ears.

"I know it's easier said than done, believe me," she begins. "But try not to let Mike get to you."

Max halts at her words, gaze now focused on the tile floor, and she glances at Y/n through her peripheral vision.

"He's in a lot of pain since El left," Y/n mumbled, the ever-present weight of guilt on her shoulders from her secret immediately grows ten times heavier, and she can feel it sitting on her lungs. "She meant a lot to him, to all of us really. But Mike took it the hardest... My point is,"

She took a deep breath and looked back at Max until she returned her gaze.

"We all want you in the party. We all really like you. And even though Mike is still working through his feelings, doesn't mean he won't come around. Besides, he doesn't solely determine who's in and who's out, no more than Dustin, or any of us, really."

A mischievous grin curled at her lips as she recalled what the boys had told Max on Halloween. She spoke with a hint of a mocking tone, trying her best to imitate Dustin that day.

"After all, our party's a democracy, and the majority voted that you could stay,"

The girls shared the briefest of seconds with their gaze locked on one another as their smiles grew. The silence was broken almost immediately as the two burst into fits of laughter, and each girl felt a great deal lighter than their current situation had previously allowed them.

Gradually the laughter died down, but their smiles remained, allowing the warmth of each other's company to keep them distracted for as long as they could.

"Thanks, Y/n," Max said, earnestly, almost feeling silly for letting her guard down, but she couldn't help it. Instead, she embraced it. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Max. And hey," Max looked back up curiously, her brow arched. "For what it's worth, I do mean it. We all want you in. And after all that's gone down in the past hour alone, well..."

Max felt the warmth in her chest grow at what the girl said next, and between her moment with Lucas on the bus and now, she couldn't recall a single moment since she had moved to Hawkins she had felt at home. Had felt accepted.

"Mike's wrong. You're one of us, now,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rips another blanket off the clothesline and looks to his mother.

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"He knew who I was," Joyce croaked, heart heavy. "He's still in there."

There's a solid passion in her voice, and Jonathan can tell she's forcing her words over a swollen lump in her throat, but he can't blame her. He's had one himself all night. And it only grows when he hears what his mother has to say next. And by the sound of it, the last bit seems to be her assuring herself.

"It's going to work," she proclaims. "It has to."

He nods solemnly, deciding he has no other choice but to believe in their plan. With a sigh, he reaches up over his head, scissors in hand, and begins to gather every last scrap of string he can harvest.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

With all the supplies now collected, everyone gathers in the Byers shed; disguising the floor and walls in sheets of tarp, cardboard, newspaper, and tinfoil, a budding sense of hope blooming in everyone's hearts. Not a single square inch is uncovered, even the sheds two posts are completely cloaked as are the chairs Max and Y/n had disguised. They sit in the center of the shed, one pushed up against each post, and a set of outdoor lights have been moved inside and hung to face where Will is to sit.

The small wooden shed had now been completely transformed and would have been practically unrecognizable to anyone who hadn't contributed. Exactly as everyone had hoped.

Jonathan was the one to retrieve Will, and as he carried his limp brother in his arms, a very similar thought to Y/n's had crossed his mind. How peaceful Will looked as he slept. It was the same little boy who used to crawl into bed with him when he'd have a nightmare. The same little boy who'd fall asleep against his shoulder as the two of them hid away from the screaming matches that took place when Lonnie was still around.

It was his little brother that he loved so much.

And the fact that that would all change as soon as he woke up, it would be another inescapable dagger to the heart. But it was something he was willing to face if it meant they were one step closer to getting Will back.

Will collapses limply into the chair he is placed in, and Jonathan has to keep one hand on his shoulder to steady him as they bound him to the chair. The clothesline he had cut down was now coiled tightly - but not too tight of course, though Jonathan can not help but worry if it was a wise choice of binding - around Will's ragdoll form and the post he sits against. The back pair of the chair's legs are woven much tighter against the post, ensuring Will is unable to scoot away should he break free.

For an extra measure, the wire stretched even farther than the boy's torso and wound around his wrists and ankles as well. Lucas hooks up the extension cord and connects it with the lamp, and it comes to life. The shed is now fully immersed in a sickening and even blinding, white light that is mounted across the room facing Will. The new source of light adds an even more chilling touch as it now enunciates the sickly color of Will's skin.

The boy is as white as a sheet, his dark brown bangs that dangle over his eyes create a stark contrast against his skin. It is not in the least bit assuring to the state of his condition, but they know it is a necessary measure. It's harsh intensity made it near impossible to see who or what was beyond it.

In this case, it was five figures packed in behind the lamp, each of them gazing at the boy with racing minds and beating hearts: Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and Y/n.

She protested at first. Not because of nerves though she couldn't deny she had them, but worried he would refuse to talk if she were present. It had taken quite a great deal of convincing on Mike's part, but he wouldn't back down.

"He needs to see you, Y/n."

"Mike, our goal is to get him to talk to us. He wouldn't even look at me last time I was here and that was before the Mind Flayer completely took over."

"He's still in there, Y/n. I know it. And I think you know it too."

She sighed and looked away breifly shaking her head.

"I don't know about this, Mike." His pleading look does little to shake her certainty. "I'm telling you, he won't open up if I'm here. The Mind Flayer despises me, I know it."

"But we're not trying to talk to the Mind Flayer, we're trying to talk to Will. And I'm telling you, that Will is nuts about you. He tells you everything. He trusts you. Will trusts you. That's what we need right now."

Her gaze wanders beyond Mike and towards her unconscious friend worriedly. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek as a side effect of her growing worry though she has to remind herself to stop. A sharp exhale breaks through her and she looks back at Mike, uncertainty laced in her voice.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not a minute later Joyce and Hopper had returned from the house where they had finished preparations with the others. The rest of the party, Nancy, and Steve stayed behind, all of them spread out amongst the kitchen where Hopper left a walkie. The other one grasped tightly in his hand should something go wrong and Joyce had fetched the bottle of ammonia Mike had dug out in during his chat with Max.

Now here they stand with nothing left to do but wake Will. Hopper cuts through the newest silence first as he glances at everyone, his gaze landing on Joyce.

"Alright, you ready?"

Without taking her eyes off her son, Joyce nods firmly.

"Yeah,"

Hopper steps forward, shaking the contents of the ammonia bottle around as he holds it at his side. Even though he towers over the small boy, he can't help but grow anxious and fearful of Will knowing what he is about to awake. Regardless he steps foward, kneeling beside his small sleeping form and unscrews the cap.

Everyone watches intently from across the room, and Y/n timidly shrinks back further beyond the post in hopes of not giving herself away too soon.

His eyes barely leaving Will, Hopper tips the bottle and douses a small handkerchief and he brings it to Will's nose in great apprehension.

At first nothing happens, but that changes in a matter of seconds as his head whips up unnaturally fast. He lets out a chilling gasp and his eyes rip open to reveal his once kind hazel green irises were now a cold, and dark brown that were now filled with hostility.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dustin stands rooted at the kitchen window, his uneasy stare fixed on the closed shed in the yard. His mind is filled with a variety of scenerios as to what his sister and the others could possibly be experiencing. It's almost too much to handle and in this fleeting moment Dustin finds himself experiencing what he realizes to be not even a sliver of what Y/n normally goes through.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to put his mind at ease and leaves the window. He sheds his hat, anxiously running his fingers through his curls as he begins to pace. Nancy watches him pass as she leans against a nearby wall, her attention returning once again to the walkie on the table, ready to answer it should the occasion arrise.

Steve stands in the living room alone, an iron grip on his bat as he gets a few practice swings in. Like Nancy, his growing anxiety has manifested itself into its own unique form, and much like Dustin he finds himself unable to sit still. The same could not be said for Max and Lucas, who now sat up against the hallway walls across from one another.

Max looks up at Lucas, her fingers still mindlessly fiddling with a fray on her jacket sleeve.

"If he finds out where we are..." she begins. "will he send those, dogs, after us?"

"He won't find out." Lucas insists.

Max nibbles at the inside of her cheek before speaking in a timid voice.

"Yeah, but, if he does?"

Lucas meets her eyes with a furrowed brow, and for a moment she senses all hope inside him had flickered out when he spoke. And his very words struck a bolt of fear into her heart, chilling her blood raising every hair at the inevitable danger she had found herself in.

"Judgement day,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · What you can do to help the Black Lives Matter movement. Don't ever give up!! Links in the comments below as usual

All white and non-black followers/readers of mine, I implore you to take a designated amount of time out of each day devoted to educating yourselves on this matter and how to be a better ally. Here are some books that can help with that:

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

"For white and non-Black people who feel they don't know how to start having these conversations, Oluo has generously provided a resource about how to be honest and thoughtful in examining not just racism in the world, but also white people's own role in it."

How To Be Antiracist by Ibram X Kendi

"Rather than figuring out how to fix things within our pre-existing systems, Kendi uses the power of memoir to reimagine a society that is not free from racism, but also actively working against racism at all times."

[Link]

And finally, below is a completely free Google doc full of free pdfs written by black activists:

[Link]

+++

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#stranger things #stranger things 2 #the mind flayer #y/n henderson #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #el hopper #max mayfield #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #joyce byers #jim hopper #netflix #cosmic #cosmic 2

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kermitbread · 5 years ago

Text

[fated.] hananene au oneshot #1

Another hananene oneshot?? yes ;)

[also AO3 link of it is here :D]

"Ahh... I didn't have a single successful pull today..." Nene groaned and lowered her phone to her lap. "I thought for sure I'd get him this time..."

"Still no luck with your idol game?" Aoi leaned over her own desk to look at Nene's screen. "You've got some good pulls though. See, you got a super rare!"

"I've been collecting so many stars for a long time... for it to come to another disappointment!! Ugh!"

Aoi patted on her best friend's shoulder as she went down on her desk and covered her face with her arms. "You really want that unit, huh?"

"Mmhm."

For the past month, Nene had been idly playing a popular male idol-raising game ever since she heard someone from another class talk about it. Being a fan of those kinds of games, it wasn't hard to imagine she didn't dive in straight away.

It had also been her luck that the game itself was an official product of a popular boy's idol group, Galaxy Chasers. No doubt about it Nene was hooked towards their good looks and amazing songs, as she would put it from time to time.

Especially since she had her eyes on a certain member of the group.

"Oh, that's right, Nene-chan! I heard there's a new classmate joining us today!" Aoi interrupted her moping. Nene lifted her head up. She wasn't exactly interested, but she didn't want to look rude towards her best friend.

"A new classmate?"

"Alright class, settle down now!" Their class adviser had finally entered the room, motioning the students to quiet down. All of them returned to their seats, bringing their full attention to the teacher.

"So as a lot of you might know, you'll be having a new classmate coming to this class this year. Some of you might recognize him, but please remember to treat him just as you would with your fellow classmates."

"Recognize him? We haven't even seen him yet, how strange..." Nene whispered to Aoi.

"With that being said, please enter the classroom." The teacher called out to someone outside by the door. Almost immediately, a boy walked inside, taking confident strides.

Nene could have sworn her heart had stopped for a moment.

What... WHAT?!!

She knew she couldn't mistake that choppy black hair and golden eyes. And specifically, that almost smug looking smile of his.

"I'm Amane Yugi. Nice to meet you." He spoke, as if not really noticing the starstruck aura the entire class emitted.

Aoi tugged on Nene's uniform sleeve and whispered, "Hey, Nene-chan, isn't he the idol boy you wanted to get in your game?"

Nene could only nod. "Y-yeah... Don't tell me he's our new classmate?"

"He is! He's a part of Galaxy Chasers, right? The lead singer!" Aoi excitedly piped, her whispering close to become full fledged squealing.

"And, oh, that's right! You have a huge crush on hi—" Nene's face exploded into a giant red mess and she flung her hands towards Aoi's mouth, covering them.

"N-not so loud, Aoi!!"

This wasn't missed by the rest of the class, and Nene sweatdropped at the weird looks given at her. "Yashiro-san, are you alright there?" The teacher asked.

"Um—yeah!! I'm fine!!" She readjusted back to her seat as Aoi recovered herself from the assault, just giggling at her friend's poor attempts at hiding her feelings.

"Alright... well, Yugi-san, you may take a seat next to Aoi-san." The teacher pointed to an empty seat next to the class rep, Akane.

He nodded, and proceeded to walk towards his assigned seat, but not before sparing a glance towards Nene with his signature smile.

And boy, was she super embarrassed indeed.

Gosh, Aoi, you didn't have to expose my secrets like that... Nene sulked by the practice garden of the school. She was all alone for a while, since she came to gardening club much earlier than the other members.

Its not as if this is some weird shoujo manga... he doesn't know who I am.

She had developed a crush on Amane since seeing him for the first time perform on stage back when Aoi had invited her to come to their concert with her. His charm, attractive voice, and looks had struck her so much, but what really got to her was the fact his eyes looked like they held so much... wonder.

They reminded her of the moon, oddly enough. The bright, round celestial body that occupied the night sky, which somehow gave her a sense of serenity just by looking at it.

His gaze held that exact same feeling.

...why am I like this? This is so dumb. I have feelings for a guy who's way too out of my league.

She looked at her phone, opening the game. Glaring at the lack of stars for her next gacha, she buried her face into her gloved hands, unfortunately getting dirt all over.

"Ack—I'm so stupid—!!"

"Are you okay?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, Nene froze from where she was sitting, not even noticing the dirt that was still patched on her skin. Amane was standing in front of her, looking worried.

"Y...Yugi-san?" She almost stuttered. Why was he here? He was being flocked around by fans all day, so it was strange to see him all by himself.

"I heard someone shouting. I came to check if someone was in trouble." He knelt down to her level, right next to her. This didn't really calm the erratically beating heart of a now gradually blushing Nene.

He's... he's so close!! "Um... I'm alright. I just had some dirt on my face by accident, that's all." She took off one of the gloves and wiped off the dust on her cheeks.

"Ah." Amane directed his eyes at the plants in front of them. "Are you... part of the gardening club here?"

"Yeah. I'm usually the one in charge of the vegetables since there's not a lot of people in the club." She somehow found her voice, feeling a lot calmer. He hummed at this, but the sound of a push notification alerted him.

He saw Nene's phone, screen open, game still intact. "Oh, Yashiro-san, is that..."

Realization hit, and Nene frantically exited the app before Amane could get a better look. She was now blushing like crazy. "I-I-It was nothing!! Really!!"

He can't know all I do here is try and pull for his super rares!! He'd think I'm a weirdo or biased or something!! (a /n: smh nene u always biased for him)

He chuckled, and Nene was pretty sure she almost swooned right on the spot. "I know, you were playing our game. It's nice to see a fan playing, though. I appreciate it."

"R-right..." She answered weakly. Trying to change the subject, she asked, "Um, Yugi-san, why did you... decide to come here? To Kamome Academy, I mean."

Amane didn't answer, and for a moment Nene felt like she offended him. "Oh! I'm sorry if I—"

"It's fine. I don't mind." He looked up at the sky, which was now in a blue-orange gradient. "Even though I'm a pretty successful singer, life like that really gets a little too hectic for my taste. So, I wanted to have a balance of peace at least."

"I wanted to feel like a normal kid again. And I just feel like, right here is where I can have that kind of life." He smiled at her, and Nene couldn't help but gaze right into his eyes.

There was that look again.

Amane then laughed, scratching his cheek. "Ahah, I talk too much, huh?"

"No, it's okay." She shook her head with a small smile. "We're classmates, right? You can tell me as much as you'd like."

He stared at her, and that was when Nene felt increasingly self-conscious. Here she was, casually talking to her crush, her crush that doesn't even know her!

"Yeah. Thanks." He lifted a hand and to her surprise, patted her head just like one would do to a little child.

Ah! He's...

"Yugi-san—"

"Amane."

"Eh?" Nene blinked at him, confused.

"Call me Amane. You said it yourself, we're classmates now." The smug look he was widely known for was now across his face, and she tried hard not to falter under his gaze.

"Alright! Then... you can call me Nene. Just not radish legs and we're fine." She added with a slightly solemn tone, now feeling concious about her ankles.

"Aww. I think they're cute." Nene could only jolt with surprise when he suddenly leaned close to her, right next to her ear.

"Besides, they make me want to hug you, Nene-chan~" His voice dropped to a lower octave than usual, making her shiver and stiffen into a state of redness.

That was it. That done it. Nene Yashiro was officially struck down.

Oh, the adventures they were gonna have soon...

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #yashiro nene #yugi amane #hanako kun #rain tries to write #anime #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

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