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#i like the snooty one esp

patrice-bergerons · 7 months

Text

I used to spiral when my fics bombed thinking this is it I'm not and I've never been a good writer people now see me for the fraud I am but now? Now I'm looking at my little fic with its horrendous 220 hits to 15 kudos ratio and all I can think is damn the masses wouldnt know what good angst is if it them in the face huh 💅💁🏻‍♂️ it sucks to have bad taste! and you know what that is? Growth.

#for legal reasons this is a joke #no one is obligated to like angst - esp my brand of deeply unhappy and unresolved angst etc etc #but also that's a you problem and not a me problem #and i worked hard to get to this place #so i get to have my sense of snooty moral superiority!#bc let me tell you it's so much better than the alternative of the spiral

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luveline · 1 year

Note

hihihi! request for zombie steve au! maybe someone at the college bullies reader into thinking she’s not good enough for steve?

just gotta say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE all your works & esp this au 😩 it just does something to me

hi thank you so much for your request! I didn't make it so severe as bullying I don't think, but tw for bullying just to be safe, and suggestive! tw mentioned weight loss <3 zombie!au steve 9k words

The dinner line is long and winding. You and Steve stand elbow to elbow, the smell of refried beans and homemade tortillas near hypnotising.

"I know the tortillas are gonna taste a little weird, I just don't care," you say, the hand you’ve curled around your boyfriend's forearm squeezing enthusiastically.

"Imagine if they had cheese," he taunts.

"Don't be evil, Steve."

His laugh dissappears into the swelling sounds of a hundred conversations. It feels like high school, bodies packed into the same room like a bingo wheel, people bouncing off of one another frenetically as the night turns forward. There's a lot of happy energy in here tonight. You're contributing at least half. Not even Steve's unfortunate truths can get you down. Yeah, you miss cheese a lot, but after a full day in the pantry shift and close quarters to such gorgeous smells, you're ravenous.

Your stomach gives a rumbling groan, and Steve's pressed so close to you that he can feel it. He wraps his arm around your shoulder to kiss the top of your head.

His easy affection sates you for a while. You turn to watch the people already sitting with their meals, jealous but not too much, and find your happiness isn't grudging. You're happy to be here. You won't take this stroke of luck for granted, not again.

You and Steve get your plates, refried beans, roasted greens seasoned with a vibrant red that smells spicy and decadent. There's definitely olive oil mixed in. You thrum with pleasure but wait patiently for steve to collect his own helpings, your cutlery, and finally, your drinks.

Robin sees you coming and waves you down unnecessarily. She's sitting with a dark-haired girl called Vanessa, and another girl you're unsure of. Vanessa had been part of your rescue squad, the team of people who'd fought to bring you back to The College. You'd show her some gratitude if she deigned to look at you.

No matter how snooty you find her, Robin likes her. You try to like her too.

"Hey," you say, putting your place setting down in front of Robin to encourage Steve to her side.

He might downplay it but you know how much he loves her, and how much he'd missed her when they were separated. She's an extremely important part of his life. You wish he'd spend more time with her outside of scavenging and supply runs, but Steve is stuck to you like glue. It's awful and amazing.

"Hi, killer," Robin says.

You scrunch up your nose. "We're still using that?"

"You were impressive!" she emphasises.

Steve puts his drink down before his plate. She's quick to grab it, taking a generous swig as he grumbles and grouches.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"I don't. Tell your girlfriend you think she was impressive!"

"She knows exactly how I feel about her."

You smile at him. You know more than enough. He's a sweetheart through and through, and though the incident Robin's referencing hadn't been one he loved, he agrees; you'd managed to cut down six zombies all by yourself when they'd split off from a herd that managed to infiltrate community defences, and Steve had thought you were a rockstar. He'd grabbed you, covered in blood and sweat, and asked you why you couldn't just stay inside, and then he'd hugged you for too long, and said later, "My girl's a fucking weapon." Like a nerd.

It's not complicated. Steve had been in danger. You'd wanted to save him, and you'd tried. Turns out he'd be the one to save you… for the hundredth time. But your efforts impressed him.

Impressed everyone, according to Robin.

"Hey, Vanessa," you say warmly.

Vanessa gives you a strange smile in return. Despite mutual friends, Vanessa hasn't warmed to you. She'd been one of the only people who'd volunteered for your rescue squad but you're starting to think that hadn't been because she liked you, exactly. She just couldn't really say no.

"Hey," she says. "How are you?"

Civil you can do easily. You and Steve had been civil for weeks.

"I'm good! Yeah, we heard there were gonna be real tortillas tonight and thought we'd get here early, but everybody had the same idea, I guess."

She laughs politely. "We did."

You wouldn't villainise Vanessa for disliking you. You barely like yourself. And, in your opinion, you'd gotten pretty damn lucky that Steve likes you as much as he does, though a small voice whispers that it'd been a grudging sort of love, like a flower squeezing its way through two panels of sidewalk. A weed that isn't supposed to be there. You worry often and in droves that Steve will come to his senses. He's gonna wake up one day, look at your sleeping face, and realise it isn't enough.

When you'd first joined The College community, you'd thought for sure that was it. Steve was gonna trample your heart once and for all. He never did, of course. The opposite — he'd doubled down. Told you he loved you for the first time, and a second time, too.

And now, miles trekked to get you back, his calf a blistering star of heat where it kisses your own beneath the table, your doubts fade away.

Vanessa doesn't have to like you. That's not the way the world works. With Steve at your side, the rejection barely stings.

You rub your shoe gently against his ankle. He looks up at you, a crazy amount of tortilla in his mouth, and he looks so silly you laugh hard and suddenly.

He covers his mouth.

"I thought you were looking somewhere else," he defends.

"Pig," Robin says, still sipping at his cup of water.

You rub his ankle again. A joke waits at the tip of your tongue, You're lucky I love you. It would feel good to say, but it's not your thing. You've never been outwardly romantic.

His cheeks pink a little under the fluorescents.

For Steve, you can be romantic.

"You're lucky I love you," you say.

There's too much emphasis on 'love', not enough on 'lucky', and the joke refuses to land. Your voice is softer than silk. It's all too sweet.

"More than lucky," Steve says, grinning at you.

You try to put your glass of water on his tray. He puts its straight back on your own.

"Robin's gonna go get me another one," he says.

"I need one for myself," she says, unhappy.

"You have two hands."

"Will you get me a refill?" Vanessa asks.

Christopher, another of Steve's fast friends, slams his tray down next to yours happily. Jonathan is right after him, and then the table's filling up with people: Jonathan's younger brother sits beside him, and the younger brother's friends follow. They're all glued together, you swear. You recognise Dustin in the throng, his chestnut brown curls crushed under a blue hat bragging the Claypole Farmer's Market, wherever that is.

"Steve's getting drinks?" Chris asks.

"For me too, please," Jonathan adds. "And Will, if you don't mind."

"I actually do," Steve says.

"And us!" Dustin says, smirking. "Thank you, oh gracious one."

Steve looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. Can you believe this shit? He stands up, grumbling, and forces his hand between Robin's upper arm and chest to drag her with him.

"Come on, Rob, I can't carry them by myself."

"Steve, please, I'm tired," she moans, her words all lifted and croaky.

"How'm I supposed to carry them by myself? Am I a fucking squid?"

"I'll help," you say, happy to do it, anything for him and at any time.

He puts his hand out to you, a universal gesture for Sit the fuck down. "Buckley will be more than capable." His smile softens. "Thank you."

You pout at him very gently in a kissy face to watch him light up. It's cheesy and rom-com, and it works like a charm. By the time he gets Robin on her feet the tips of his ears are completely blushed, a stark red against the mousy browns and blondes of his hair.

"Hey, Y/N," Chris says, mouth full of tortilla. Boys are all the same.

"Hey," Jonathan echoes, and at least his hand is in front of his mouth, "how are you feeling? They let you back in the kitchen yet?"

"They did. Hopper really didn't like that I broke the lock down rules, but at the same time, I think he understands that I'm a grown up."

Lock down rules being, once a door is shut, it stays shut. Do not give a herd the opportunity to worm its way inside.

But you'd made sure the coast was completely clear, and after Maybelle and Pauline, your fellow kitchen staff, had vouched for that, he'd let you off the hook, and back to work. You hadn't realised how punishing not working could be, especially when Steve had stayed on shift, his time split between scrounging outside of the community and fence duty. There's nothing to stop you from spending the day thinking about what-ifs, which is veritable torture.

"You missed the kitchen? Did you make these?" Chris asks.

You turn to your food and tear off some of the warm tortilla, sighing with pleasure. "No, I'm just kitchen pantry, you know? I'm sorta like an accountant. Like Dora in the armoury, or–" You nod at Vanessa with a smile. "Vanessa. You're in charge of the toiletries and stuff, right, with Cooper and Dean, and those guys?"

She clears her throat. "It's more than 'toiletries and stuff,'" she corrects with a stilted laugh. "It's everything that isn't food. Medicine for the medic, the nursery supplies, the batteries. It's important."

"No, of course! I didn't mean to imply anything else. I can't imagine."

You're sure her smile this time is genuine. You and Vanessa can't seem to mesh because she's a little more serious than you are and your easygoing tone rubs her the wrong way, but you think your explanation makes it up.

She opens her mouth to speak when Dustin leans over the table, projecting his voice down the line. "Y/N! Are you coming to cards club tonight?"

"I don't know, babe," you say, startled at his question. "I thought so. If Steve isn't too tired then yeah, absolutely."

"You can come without Steve," Jonathan says.

"I know," you say, softly so you know he's grateful for the reassurance.

"You're the only one who can beat Will at Yahtzee. You have wicked luck," says Mike, their pale, dark-haired friend, who usually rivals Dustin for hostility. You're glad he seems to like you.

"Yahtzee isn't luck based," says Will.

The entire group groans at the ignition of a familiar argument.

"Robin, if you fucking nudge me again I'm gonna make sure this goes all over you," comes Steve's voice.

You turn in your seat to watch their procession of glasses, at least six between them with not a tray in sight. Robin looks confident, Steve terrified. You jump to your seat to rescue him, taking his third glass from the nestling group so he can pick up his pace.

"Thank you," he says, dipping his head down for a kiss.

You're surprised but never not wanting to be kissed by him, your chin lifting on automatic to reciprocate. You chase him when he pulls away, turning one kiss into two, his lips the tiniest bit chapped against yours. It's a comforting pressure.

You ease away. "Are we going to card club tonight?"

"If you want to, of course we are."

"You aren't tired?"

"You're saying I look ugly."

He glares at you, faux-offended.Your laugh is peeling, infectious to your own ears.

"No!" you deny.

"Right." He tries to be deadpan, sighing in defeat when he can't keep up the illusion. "Shit, I almost had it. S'too bad I'm a sucker for you when you smile like that."

—

Later that night, you and Steve are sitting around the very same tables that have been wiped down with a watery lysol, and you have an amazing three game Yahtzee streak going where nobody can beat you.

Steve's ears are ringing with the clattering sound of dice in the shaker, and he's freezing. It's a great night. He shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over your shoulders, and has to periodically readjust it to stop it from falling to the floor, your arms moving enthusiastically with each new shake.

Steve winces as Dustin makes a fatal mistake. He’s used his two sixes to mark a 12 in the sixes column, holding out for a yacht.

"Dude, the chances of getting Yahtzee are like, one in a thousand," Steve says.

"One in thirteen hundred," you correct, already scooping up Dustin's die to take your turn.

"One in seven thousand and seven hundred for each number," Mike says.

"Ew," Steve says, face slumped into his palm, elbow aching where it's pushed into the table. "You fucking nerds infected my girl."

"It's in the rule book," you say, shaking the circular dice container with your hand on top. You throw them out on the table and assess your given numbers with a frown.

You have three threes and two ones. You keep the threes and shake the other two dice again. Yahtzee had felt complicated when Steve first learned how to play, and now it feels maddening. It's definitely luck based, in his humble opinion, and that has nothing to do with his never winning a game, he swears.

"Does the chance of rolling a Yacht get higher if you keep the dice?" he asks, gesturing to your three threes.

"Yeah," you mumble, throwing your second shuffle out onto the table. "Yeah, but it's pretty negligible, handsome. Goes from point one to point two."

"It isn't negligible," Will denies. "It's probability, not luck, and it isn't point one, it's zero point zero eight, and it can be as high as zero point five. That's one in two hundred."

"That math isn't right," Dustin says.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

You throw out your last shuffle and everyone leans in to see what you rolled. Your three threes are kept to one side, and your new rolls clatter to a halt in front of Steve.

"Holy shit," he says.

You rolled two threes.

"Yahtzee!" you cheer, pumping your little fist adorably. Little in that it's smaller than his, and not very little in reality. "Alright, who's next?"

"The game isn't over," Dustin says, peeved.

You peer down his scorecard. He could win, theoretically, if he were to score multiple yachts, or if he'd been careful with his aces, ones, etc.

"Nah, it is," Steve says. "Take it like a champ, Henderson."

Dustin refuses to give up, playing until the end. You score a solid 319 to his less impressive 178.

Steve robs your hand before you can agree to a rematch, forcing you to unfurl your tensed fist. He loves doing this — he presses the tips of his thumbs into the sides of one of your fingers and pushes down. It must hurt a teeny tiny bit but you never say a word, only giggle at his touch and lean toward him like you might tell him a secret. He would lament how much time he wasted being an asshole to you if he had the wherewithal. As it is, he's enchanted with you, and he isn't casual about it, pushing all of your anxiety down to your fingertips. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them each in turn.

You pull your hand away. He thinks you're standing up to leave the table, but you're moving closer to him and straightening your back. He can picture the ache between your shoulder blades as it is between his own, the weird raw feeling, a tightness.

"Want a neck massage?" he asks as you place your hand against his cheek.

You brush your thumb over his stubble. "Do you want a neck massage?" you ask, unperturbed by his sudden question. His jacket threatens to slide onto the floor.

"Are you offering?"

"Not in cards club." You look over his shoulder. "We could play poker."

"The buy-in's too expensive."

"What?" You frame his face with your hand. He's not sure you know you're doing it. "We can spare it, isn't that why we brought it?"

Buy-in tonight is a bar of soap. Half the time everybody goes home with what they brought anyways, so you're obviously not worried.

You squeeze his cheek and laugh. "You'd be cute if you were chubby."

He grabs your hand, face warped by an irreplaceable joy, a delight to have you and be with you, a sparkling kind of lightness to know you're safe and happy here. He kisses your cheek, and says, smushed up against your skin, "You're cute."

"Thank you."

He hums. "So. Poker?"

—

You have a small sink in your room with a hot and cold faucet, though no matter which one you choose, the water comes out cold. It chills your face as you scrub. When your face is reasonably wet, you lather the bar of honey soap Steve insists on keeping at the side of the sink between your fingers before dropping it imprecisely into your boyfriend's waiting palm. He laughs under his breath at the clumsy manoeuvre.

You listen to him do the same as you had as you soap your face. You give special attention to your nose, your eyebrows, and your ears. Steve laughs again as you work a small towel behind them.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing." He holds his hand out for the towel, patting down his face with less ardency. He isn't less clean for it. "You have suds under your nose. Tiny moustache."

He reaches for it with the towel, lifting your face with the back of his hand under your chin. His eyes are their forever warm brown, fixed on your top lip with a dedication that makes your baseline fondness for him surge.

"I was pretty bad at poker, huh?" you ask.

"No?" He dries a lingering stretch of dampness painting your cheek before dropping the towel behind the faucets. "You didn't win. Doesn't mean you were bad."

"Vanessa said I should stick to Yahtzee," you tell him. You pause, wanting his input, and worried you're feeling offended by something that isn't inherently offensive.

"Vanessa should stick to lawn darts," he says, chucking you under the chin.

He starts to pull his pants down like it's no big deal. It isn't, not after so many months together, you've seen him do worse in worse states than this, but it feels forbidden anyhow to watch him climb into bed.

"Could you pass me my sweatpants?" he asks, face turned into the pillow, his shoulders deflating.

"You're decompressing without me."

"Am not." He pushes his hand under the pillow, shoulder blade shifting under his shirt noticeably. "Hurry and decompress with me."

You throw his sweatpants at his calves and he does a sort of vertical dance to put them on, one leg then the other, lifting his hips and dropping heavily back into the sheets when he's done. He looks at home. His relaxation catches you off guard, a pleasure to see even if it isn't strictly new. He feels safe here with you.

"She's good at those darts," you say.

"And shit at poker," Steve says agreeably. He lifts his head off of the pillow. "Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep standing up tonight?"

You shimmy out of your stiff jeans and try not to feel the huge weight of his eyes on your skin. It's an impossible task, and you fail immediately.

"Stop looking at me."

"M'not."

You glare at him, find him absolutely looking at you. Your glare fades when you realise how loving his gaze is, how it doesn't waver for a second. He pushes the sheets down on your side of the bed and waves his arm for you to get in.

You pull on your pyjama pants and take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around you quickly, or rather under you, his bicep crushed by your shoulders. Chills prickle against your skin as he cups the flesh just shy of your breast. If Steve wanted to touch you like that, he could. You want him just as much as you don't, content to cuddle with him, content to kiss like teenagers with nowhere to go tomorrow, content to do worse. He spreads his fingers over your torso, pinky nudging the underside. You'd let Steve touch wherever he liked, and he'd enjoy doing it, you think. That's a gift in itself such casual intimacy.

"Vanessa, is she…" Steve's minty fresh breath pushes over your face like a small gale. "She's not picking on you, is she?"

You like to be honest with Steve, and you want to be honest now — I don't know. But you hate thinking he'd have to look after you more than he does already.

"No," you say, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Like a puzzle?" Steve asks sceptically.

"Guess my pieces are a little warped after spending so much time with you."

He laughs like you're the funniest girl he's ever met, a big breathy sound with the punch of his voice behind it. "Guess they are," he says, hand climbing higher over your chest. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Never," you say lightly.

He smiles at you. You forget Vanessa's out of place comments, her weak smiles, her for-show friendliness in front of Steve. She doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and letting her dictate your thoughts in gorgeous, glowing moments like this would be a waste.

"Love you," you whisper.

Steve nestles into the space under your jaw. He doesn't fit but he does, of course he does, he's your everything. If that's where he wants to sleep tonight, so be it. You turn into his grasp to take the pressure off of his arm and return his gentle hugging, forcing his face closer so you can breathe in the smell of his hair.

"Love you," Steve says. He kisses your neck chastely. "Turn the light off?"

You reach back blindly and switch off the lamp. Everything will be okay as long as you have your boy. Right?

—

Vanessa gets worse. She makes neutral comments with enough friendliness to make you wonder if she's truly being cruel? Am I just looking for a fight? What do I want?

Maybe it's Vanessa's clear preference for Steve. You could be jealous. You aren't sure what jealousy feels like in relationships until she's touching him when she doesn't need to be and smiling at him like he hung the moon. She doesn't go overboard, though. She keeps her hands mostly to herself. She goes as far as to tell Steve that she thinks you're beautiful.

You don't know how to explain your reservations to him if he can't already see it. If she'd really thought you were beautiful, surely that's something she could say face to face, rather than the unhappy little nod she gives you whenever you cross paths? Despite evidence suggesting it, you don't think Vanessa's trying to make a move on Steve.

She's a bit of a bitch, but that's not a crime. Unfortunate? Yes. Illegal? No. Immoral? You aren't sure.

It's her most obvious dig yet that manages to grab Steve's attention a second time since the poker incident.

"I couldn't let my eyebrows grow out like yours," she says, voice bubbly with a faked awe, "I think it's super cool of you."

"Vanessa," Robin says, eyes on her plate, an inquisitive twist to her voice that you've come to know as her sarcasm, "we're in the apocalypse."

Steve, who'd seemed torn between speaking up and genuinely confused about the comment Vanessa'd made, chokes on his food beside you, soup dribbling down both corners of his mouth as he laughs. You wipe the corners of his mouth with your long sleeves.

"Jeez, you're like my baby," you say. Your voice is occluded by Jonathan's silvery giggles.

Steve swallows roughly, "I resent that."

He still lifts his chin so you'll rub the bead that's escaped down his throat.

Vanessa ends up laughing too, says, "I think I'm just crazy tired," punctuated with a high-pitched laugh.

"Honestly, me too," you say, because maybe she is, and maybe she needs just a little smidge more benefit of the doubt.

"I've been keeping her up," Steve says smugly.

"He still making you read that King book? The Gunslinger?" Jonathan asks. "Will wants it whenever you're done."

"Every night," you say.

You're pretending it's a chore because that's what you and Steve always used to do. These days room for sincerity is much larger, but it's fun to give him a hard time when, at the end of the day, you'll crawl into bed together and tuck his face into your neck, flipping to the dog-eared page of your worn paperback to read in dulcet tones until he's a dozing weight warming your skin.

Steve looks for your hand under the table and lets your small group of friends laugh at him. Chris makes a whipping sound through the corner of his mouth. It's surprisingly accurate, and it makes you laugh worse, leaning your weight into Steve's arm for support in an action so familiar it's entirely thoughtless.

"It's not that funny," he murmurs, breath tickling your forehead.

"M'not laughing," you say.

You are most definitely laughing. It's a good moment, even if Vanessa's comment sticks around underneath to nibble at your heart.

He doesn't let your hand go for a really long time. Not when you're taking the plates up to the dirty dishes trolley, or on the walk back to Little Hawkins' with everybody in high spirits. He struggles to unlock your door one handed and he's still insisting when you try to tug away from him.

"Let me make the bed."

"We're getting back in 'n like, ten minutes."

"You're tired?" you ask.

"No. I just wanna lay down with you."

He says it simply. Concise, with neither affection nor anything less. It's damn near factual. Steve just wants to lay down with you, out of everything in the world he could do. He could be haunting Robin's room, stealing snacks from under her bed and claiming them as bribes for not tattling on her to Hopper. He could be with Dustin in the new rec room —aptly labelled Nerd Club, when put to a vote— arguing on how to spend the valuable alloted half hour of TV time.

He could stay with you and insist on other things. Reading. Self-defence. A walk around the community. Sex. An early night. A cold shower.

But he's content to lay with you, to share one another's space without asking for anything else.

Though you won't rule everything out. His kisses lately are a lot more than you're used to.

"Let my hand go, you fiend!" you declare, overcome with a rush of affection for him. "I'm gonna make the bed and we're gonna lay down and then after that we're gonna go bother Robin."

"You know, I'm not sure I like this you and Robin thing."

You tug your fingers from his. It's like trying to escape a sticky fly trap.

"You mean us being friends?" you ask.

You throw all of your throws and pillows onto the ground and grab your thick quilt, shaking it out over your mattress as Steve groans.

"Exactly!"

"I thought you wanted me to have friends?"

"Of course I do, you word-twisting douche."

"Nice, nice. Dustin or Mike?"

"I stole that one from Will, thank you very much."

"See! You have upwards of four friends, Steve, and I'm not allowed to have any?"

He grabs you from behind. You drop the quilt with a sigh, going limp as a fish in his arms. He staggers backward under your dead weight but manages to keep you up, breath tickling the inside of your ear as he says, "No, you're not. Just me." He kisses your ear.

"I tried that and everyone got mad at me."

"No, they didn't."

They really didn't. You cover his arm with your fingers, rub your fingertips over the hill of his arm. His arm hair is soft.

"Steve."

"What?" he asks, his hands crawling down to cover your stomach.

"Don't squeeze me."

"You're very squeezable."

"I was way more squeezable before, remember."

You'd lost some weight from the start of the apocalypse to now. Steve hates it. You're perfect, he'd said once, no matter what. But still, he laments your lost weight for what it represents — times where you and he had struggled to survive.

"I'm working on that," he promises.

You turn your face, shifting in the circle of his arms to meet his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. You'd admitted that to yourself a long time ago but each time you really stare into them it takes a moment for it to settle. He is a pretty, pretty boy.

He's looking at you with a soft smile. Then, for a split second, you swear his eyes rove up to your brows. It's more than likely your imagination.

"Let me finish making this bed," you say, turning back to the discarded pile of pillows and blankets.

"You want your jammies?"

You snort happily. "Yeah, sweetheart. Lay 'em out for me, please."

—

For the last week or two, Steve has noticed a change in you. You've changed a lot since you met him (for the second time). You've gone from prickly and distant and somewhat distracted to determined, vigilant. You may not come on scrounging missions outside but you're brave, and you've survived more than he ever wanted you to have to go through.

This change is distinctive. It's like you've reverted to how you acted when you were more friend than girlfriend; you're self conscious.

He really hates it.

He can't work out what he did, or what happened, but it sucks. He sucks.

"There has be be something you want," he says.

You're standing with him by the south fence. He and his team are about to head out for the shopping mall for as many blankets as they can carry.

"I just want you to be careful," you say.

You look tired. It's early in the morning, and you'd woken up earlier still. Your hair is freshly washed from a cold shower.

You're still not comfortable showering without him, but of course the other girls aren't comfortable with him sitting in there when they're naked. You've had to schedule your showers for the dawn hour.

"I'm gonna be careful for free," he says, pulling at a wet strand of your hair. He scratches lightly around your ear before hooking his fingers underneath it, his thumb drawing from your cheek to your lips. "Pick something you want and I'll find it. You know, Robs said we might be able to pass by a real small cherry garden on the way home. Do you–" He should know this. Why doesn't he know this? "Do you like cherries?"

Thankfully, you laugh at his question and let your face fall into his hand. He thumbs your ear lobe gently.

"I don't want anything at all. 'Cept for you to be extremely careful," you say.

He pulls you in for a hug, smashes a messy kiss to your head, and tries to pull away because he's cool and the guys are watching.

You're less quick. You rub your cheek against his chest.

"Please, Steve," you whisper.

He frowns. There's something you're not telling him. He wishes you would, but clearly you don't think you can. He's gonna try to do whatever it is he needs to do to get you there.

Steve takes your face into both hands.

"I will be super careful, dummy. That's my middle name, I'm Steve Careful Harrington," he says.

"I thought your middle name was Danger?"

He kisses you. "No? Who told you that?"

Your laugh is pretty enough to keep him smiling for most of the hike to the mall, until Robin says, mid sentence, "–Jeez, you're pathetic."

Pathetic for you is something he doesn't necessarily mind being, but pathetic in general he cannot abide. He spends the rest of the hike stepping on the sides of Robin's shoes as she retells the plot of Murder on the Orient Express. Steve had seen the movie once but he's never read the original novel. Lucky him, Robin had an Agatha Christie phase when she was twelve, and she knows all the best parts.

Hike is a strange word considering all of their walking is through steep roads. They move past rundown cars, streets and streets of abandoned houses scraped clean. There's an elementary school with a rusted playground in front. Vegetation has already started to spread through the packed wood chip flooring, and one of the swings has a broken chain. Steve hadn't realised how quickly human things fell into disrepair when attacked by the elements and left maintenance.

The mall is a better example. Smashed glass lays around the entrance in tiny pieces like a huge back of upturned sugar, and bluegrass eats its way between paving stones. The team consists of eight people, including Steve, Robin, Christopher, and one of the College's co-leaders, a mister Jeremy Livingstone. They make their way carefully through the glass and grass in a wave of crunching footsteps to the front of the mall, where Steve wedges the flat blade of his knife between the automatic doors and works them open. When there's enough room for a second hand, Chris slides in beside him, and they work the doors open. Steve's biceps are burning by the time they're inside the mall.

"Alright, guys," Jeremy says. "There's a bedding store toward the back of the mall. We'll go there first, and then we'll try to work through the list of requests. Blankets and sheets are our second priority. Staying safe and alive is first. Only grab what you know you can carry, you can bring back whatever you want, just… don't be greedy. Alright?"

They head out for the bedding store at the back.

"How much stuff can we carry?" Robin asks him. "I have weak arms. I'm a weakling."

"Isn't there uh, a fancy storage place? We could drag a suitcase back."

"For two hours?"

"Is it two hours? Livingstone! You want me and Robin to grab some suitcases?"

Everybody fills a suitcase with sheets and blankets in plastic wrap. The brand new stuff feels like a luxury, and Steve dibs a double mattress bedspread made of Egyptian cotton, knowing that'll make you smile. Now he's got your mattress up on those crates from behind the cafeteria, your room has really come together. Blankets and trinkets and sweet glassware. You have a small shelf of books, your clothes, your pens and pencils.

Steve'll bring you anything you want, only you don't seem to want anything at all.

He'll just… have to bring you some of everything.

—

Your tears taste salty. You feel gross for licking a tear off of your top lip but nobody's around to see you do it; Steve might not be home until dark. You have time to get this upset out of your system.

You'd been asked by Maybelle to swing by Armoury and Amenities, an unofficial name for the building where the community keeps the bulk of its collective resources, for a new propane tank. You'd gone inside, said hi to Cooper, said hi to Vanessa, explained why you needed the propane, and left.

Or, you'd tried to leave. The propane tank was heavy, and the front door had been difficult to open one handed. You'd swung it open, quickly put your hand back on the tank to stop yourself from dropping it, and watched in frustration as the door slammed closed before you could worm your way out.

"She's the one who got, like, taken?" came Cooper's voice, pretty much as soon as the door stopped bouncing. His voice echoed from the next room.

"Sure, taken."

You'd stilled instantly.

"What, you think she wanted to go?"

Vanessa sighed. "No, I don't think so. She didn't try very hard to come back, s'all I'm saying."

"Chris says Harrington's infatuated with her. Like he's under a spell," Cooper said, chuckling.

"It's gotta be some kind of magic, she's… Well, God knows he'd have his pick if he came back to reality. You have the catalogue? I wanna note the propane before I forget."

And that had been that.

You don't understand why Steve loves you, sometimes. You know he does. It isn't up for questioning. Love with Steve is a lot of things — long talks in the mornings about anything and everything, his fingers tucking your shirt into your jeans. It's him pulling your hood over your eyes whenever he's behind you and laughing when you grumble. It's hiding in places you shouldn't be, hand in hand. It's miles of Indiana highway. It's heart-racing anxiety that one of you might not make it to the end. Love with Steve is a devotion: he takes care of you. He's taken care of you ever since you met.

You haven't stopped to wonder if you deserve it in a long time.

I don't, you think, half tears and all heartbreak. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve Steve. He's too good, the kind of good that starts life in the marrow of bones. He's sweet and soft-handed with a softer heart. He looks like a dream, and it shouldn't matter but it does. His voice is the only one you like waking up to, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear.

Time to get up, dummy. Rise and shine, angel. Baby, come on. We slept in, loser, and you need to get dressed. Hey, are you listening to me? I miss you, wake up.

"Y/N?" Steve asks, trying the handle.

You flinch hard, and your heart jumps with you. A flip flop somersault feeling in your chest that plummets to your stomach. You scratch madly at your cheeks with two woollen sleeves and stand up as he opens the door.

"Hey," Steve says, and he's safe, he's alive and well and home again.

He stands in the doorway with a bulging rucksack on his back, windbreaker zipped tight to his neck, hair a windblown mess. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks are ice-bitten, though the colour is coming back to his skin slowly.

You don't feel as though you deserve him but you can't help yourself from springing into his chest, arms around his waist before he can blink. Before he can see the wet mess of your face, and your tear swollen eyes.

"Hey," he says again, leaning a great deal of his weight over your shoulders. He sniffs your hair. "Hey dummy. Told you I'd get home fine, huh?"

You try not to breathe too loudly against his chest. The fabric of his coat is stiff and cold, a contrast to your heated skin.

"Hey," he says, for a third time. This time it's all powdered sugar soft. Concern and exhaustion wrapped together. "I know, I'm sorry it took longer than usual. It's my fault, I wanted to get you something 'n' I made us all late coming home, I know you worry."

You don't answer again. You don't know how to explain it to him. You can barely understand it yourself. You cling to him and his solid mass until he gives in, his mouth pressed to your temple, his arms tightening behind your head. He shields you from the world for a handful of long, stolen minutes. There's nothing but his hugs, no sound to battle the plastic sounds of his windbreaker or the blood rushing between your ears.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he murmurs.

You don't trust your voice to come out whole.

He freezes under your touch. A slow hardening. His hands pause where they'd been rubbing short, featherlight lines.

"I'm sorry," you say, enthusing your tone with some self-deprecating cheer. "You're tired, I'm sorry. You wanna sit down."

"I really do." He laughs.

You peel away from him, the two of you sheepish and awkward and it's so unlike you, unlike him. You think you've made a fool of yourself as he takes off his rucksack, laying it carefully on the floor by the bed as you turn to your shared dresser and rummage through the top drawer for some clean clothes for him to take when he showers.

You've freaked him out, and he thinks you're a weirdo, and he's gonna realise you don't deserve him and you never could. You're bad at nearly everything, and you're a total slob, and you should've tried harder to get back to him, and it's all your fault. Misery grips you and drags you down hard. It spirals, surface level comments from a shallow, jealous girl, they twist and twist until you feel wrung out and useless. And now Steve's home, and you're–

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asks.

You wince and face him, his sweatpants pressed to your chest. "What?"

"You're not talking to me, and you only ever used to do that when you were mad."

You pass him his sweatpants, clear your throat. "Stevie, I'm not mad at you."

"Then what's up?" He unzips his windbreaker, keeping his eyes on you. "I know it's something."

You force yourself to keep a mild smile. You can't think of a lie — you don't want to lie.

Steve frowns as your face crumples, a large palm leaping to the curve of your neck.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

You can't align this Steve with the one you knew in Hawkins. He's so different. Or maybe he isn't different at all, and you're lucky to see the depth of his feelings, the expanse of his goodness and his heart and his secret smile, corners pulled up and eyebrows pushed down just so. It says, You're okay, because we're gonna do this together. The world will keep spinning for us as long as we want it to.

"I had a bad day," you say.

"Are you sure? I've seen you on some bad days, baby. This doesn't feel like that, you know? And I get that I don't always know what to say, but I promise I wanna know. Whatever it is that's been making you all grumpy."

His smile glows, his eyebrows rising. His teasing tone toward the end of his reassurance is a lightness you cling to.

Lately, everything has felt so heavy.

"I'm worried I don't…" Even attempting to say it has your throat aching. You cover his hand with yours. "Steve, I– I feel bad lately. I feel like I'm bad."

He shakes his head, strands of his brown hair unsticking to dance in front of his eyes. "You're not bad."

"I don't deserve you."

He stares.

"Being with you now, having you look after me, I didn't deserve you when I met you." A tear gathers in the line of your lashes. "I don't deserve you now. I'm just me, I'm useless, and you don't have to be with me and I've," —you take in a shuddering breath, and step away from Steve's hand— "been trying to work out why you're still with me and it doesn't make sense. Why do you stay with me?"

"That's a stupid question," he says.

You try to swallow a lump. It stays right there in your throat.

"I got a policy against stupid questions, remember?"

"Steve…"

He cuts you off, tangling his fingers with yours, and easing you close until his breath is warming your lips and you can see the honey-browns that circle his pupils. They feel bigger the longer you look at them.

"How can you ask me that?" he says gently. "You know how much I love you… Right?"

You nod and knuckle a tear off of your cheek. "I know," you say, and you're crying now, little bubbling sobs that wobble your shoulders.

"Listen, if I haven't been showing it I'm sorry, and I'll prove it to you. I don't want you to question it."

"It's not you," you say, pressing your forehead to his collar, craving his comfort so much that you don't care if you don't deserve it.

"Everybody knows that line is a lie," he says.

"I'm not lying. Everybody knows I'm the part that doesn't fit."

"Who's everybody?"

You try to backtrack and pull away, but Steve won't let you this time. "I'm just having a bad day," you say, "and you've had a long one–"

"Stop it." Steve looks at you seriously. He takes your face into both hands, like he always does when he's worried. "I don't care if I crawled home with two broken arms, loser. I gotta know what's wrong. All of it. And you need to tell me."

He thumbs at your damp cheeks.

"Okay," you mumble, embarrassed and relieved at once. "I'll tell you."

You insist that he take his shoes off and stretch out in bed even though he's got dirty jeans on, and he doesn't wanna get your nest of throw blankets dirty, so he peels out of them and sits in his boxers at the top of the bed. You slide in next to him, and he works his arm over your shoulder, and you cry like a baby when he calls you honey under his breath.

—

"And these are for you, too," Steve says, pulling a slightly smushed box of cherries from the bottom of his rucksack.

You look beautiful. Afternoon sunlight drips in from a crack in the curtains, kissing up and down your smiling cheeks. Your eyes are still puffy, but your smile hasn't moved all morning.

"You didn't get anything for yourself?" you ask, though any outrage for him you harbour is hidden by your awe. "I don't remember the last time we got fresh fruit, and you didn't even put them at the top of the bag."

"You're such a whiner. Just try one."

Your fingers play delicately over the punnet of cherries. The cherry garden had had a lot of supplies left to 'borrow', and after a sickly half an hour of him and Robin staining their teeth, he'd managed to grab a perfect box's worth for you. Perfect before they got squished, that is.

"You should have the first one," you say.

"No," he says, and shoves the box at your calf. "They're for you. If you like them, I want you to eat all of them and throw up like a godzilla."

"Not sure you're remembering that movie right," you murmur, plucking one of the cherries out of the box.

You bite into the cherry and your eyes screw up. "Oh wow, that's sour. I don't…" You finish chewing, and Steve is rocketed to cloud nine when you go in for a second cherry, and then a third.

Last night had been tough. Steve spent a long time talking you down from what'd been sewn into your head, and he'd pulled the truth from you in strings. Vanessa had been cruel to you on more than one occasion now, which Steve had known but not to the full extent, and her last comment had been too much. Steve, unapologetically, hates her.

But Vanessa isn't the sole problem.

You're having a really hard time. All of this has been so much for you. It is, in Robin's words, the fucking apocalypse, and between nearly starving to death and all the shitty things that have happened to you, he isn't surprised to find you're fragile. And he doesn't say fragile, meaning weak. He doesn't know a lot about the world but he knows the human brain and body isn't built for this. You're his girl, and you're hurting, and while he knows objectively this isn't his fault, he vows to do a better job at protecting you.

He won't fail you again. He can't.

He watches cherry juice escape out of the corner of your mouth.

"You're cute," he says. "Where's the disposable? Pass it over."

"You are not taking a photo of me right now, baby."

"You look beautiful."

"When will we ever get the photos developed, anyway?" you say, laughing, kissing juice off of your fingertips.

He leaps for the camera and tussles you when you fight back. You laugh and lose, weak with giggles as he holds you away, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist.

"Jonathan does all of that stuff," Steve says knowingly.

He gives you a little shove. You cover your face with your hands, words muffled, "Thought the camera was for me?"

"We're sharers. We share things. Look, if you don't smile for me I'm gonna take a picture of you in your underwear."

You throw your hands over your lap and he snaps a photo of your shy face.

"Shithead fucking pervert," you say.

Steve knows he's off the hook when you laugh.

He's gonna give Vanessa the coldest shoulder anyone has ever given, and if she were a guy Steve would defend your honour in a more physical manner. He'd suggested a verbal defence last night but you'd begged him to never, ever bring any of it up to Vanessa or your friends. It startled him —you have nothing to be ashamed of— but he'd agreed. Whatever's gonna make you happy is, perhaps cornily, what he wants to do.

Right now, making you happy is gifts on the floor of your tiny shared bedroom, pantsless but, fascinatingly, with socks. He points the camera at your ankles.

You grab the new blanket he'd given you and drape it over your legs. "Pervert," you reiterate.

He puts down the camera.

"Not my fault they made you perfect."

"Who's they?"

Steve shrugs, and can't keep the smirk off of his face as he says, "They made every damn inch of you perfect, especially but not limited to your pretty eyebrows."

Your smile settles into something more timid. You push your hill of gifts aside, careful not to spill your cherries, and walk the short distance on knees to wrap your arms around his neck. Your face fits into the curve of his neck exactly the way it always will. His hand cups your lower back.

"Love you, Harrington," you say.

"How much? 'Nough to let me have some of the cherries?"

You shake your head gently, the tip of your nose bumping his Adam's apple. "No…" you say apprehensively.

"No? You don't wanna share with me?"

"No." Your mumbling is adorable. Steve wants to eat you alive, or at the very least kiss you until you turn to jelly in his arms.

If he starts now, he can be done by dinner.

"Five seconds to change your mind. After that I'm taking all of them by force. Five, four, three…"

You shriek, and even your shrieking is a sound he wants to hear. You drop away from him and grab the cherries, cornering yourself too fast as you stagger to your feet and hide by the desk. Shoulders against the cabinet, you grab up one of your rare books like a shield, and you glare at him over the cover.

"You said they were for me!" you say, real panic in your voice. You know from experience Steve will tickle you until you can't breathe.

"They are for you! I love you," he says, words dripping with a false sincerity (though he loves you, undeniably). "I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You don't want my help?"

"You keep your help away from me, beast."

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he'd thought to melt you. He tickles you, and he steals a handful of your precious cherries, and when he kisses you dizzy it leaves red-pink splotches over the column of your neck, his smile temporarily printed into your skin.

—

ty for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed, and if you did pls consider reblogging <3<3

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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anghraine · 10 months

Note

I always love reading your thoughts and essays on Pride and Prejudice.

I've been reading a lot of P&P fic lately, and one thing I'm struck by is how widespread Darcy being called William or Will is.

What are your thoughts? Why do you think this is so common?

Thank you very much, anon!

You've chanced across one of my oldest and strongest pet peeves, tbh. My uncharitable opinion is that it is so extremely pervasive because fandom—at least Western media fandom—are, well, cowards about long names. People are always having characters use shortened nicknames even when there's zero evidence for them doing so and even when the original names aren't that long. The mere possibility of people not shortening their names seems almost a foreign concept.

I think it's compounded with Darcy because Fitzwilliam Darcy is such a specifically upper-class rich person sort of name. A lot of the fandom simply doesn't like it and can't/won't imagine anyone actually using it in full, though Darcy is probably the last person who would mind such a name or be inclined to abbreviate it to one of the most common names in the English language. Especially, IMO, given that (in-story) it was clearly given to honor his now-dead mother and her aristocratic family.

On a more meta level, I also think Georgiana and Fitzwilliam (esp given the association of the in-story Fitzwilliams with a literal Fitzwilliam earl) for the Darcy siblings aren't just suitably snooty names for their background but in context, pretty blatant references to some very famous figures in Whig politics. The political subtext is completely erased by converting Darcy's name to William, esp in period-set fic, but most people don't care and just want a less "weird" name.

#anon replies #respuestas #austen blogging #austen fanwank #lady anne blogging #anghraine rants #general fanwank #long post #(ish)#nice things people say to me

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year

Note

I like the sound and vibe of On the Street, and I respect and can appreciate J Cole’s writing, but I’m confused about why that was the message chosen for this collab. Army is bombarding comment sections by repeating that it’s a ‘see you later’ song because Hobi is enlisting, but other than the chorus, what about these lyrics conveys that message? Their verses feel like they belong to separate songs to me. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, facetious, condescending, or sarcastic here, I really am confused and would like to understand, and I would appreciate any insights you might be willing to share.

I did see one comment on YouTube that said: “I heard someone say they wanted a second verse from J Hope but then they realized he did give us a second verse… in his first language, dance. And he did it beautifully” and I think this is my favorite take so far. Thank you for your time (sorry if this ask is dumb).

Ask 2: Can you pls review On The Street BPP?

Ask 3: Oh Hobi T T... OH JUNG HOSEOK T T... Oh this song T T...,,, Ugh my heart! Our sunshine, thank you for this wonderful music, experience, and feelings. You got me to the finals. I hope you can watch after me today, too. lol I LOVE YOU JUNK HOSEOK. I hope you are happy. I hope your toughest struggle is something you can overcome. I hope your sweetest memories have people who truly love you to share with if you so wish. Hope the world to you J-HOPE!!!!

Ask 4: I don't want to be rude but "as the moon jumps over the cow"??? Wut?? Isn't J Cole supposed to be some good lyricist? I saw khh and kpop fans questioning this collab and this lyric in particular and I think they're right. BTS should stop giving khh a bad name because now people will hate kpop.

Ask 5: Hi BPP, a lot of people are offended over J.Cole’s verse on atheists being stupid for not believing in a higher people, which further proves to me that they take everything a person says to be something to be Personally offended over, not an honest expression of ones thoughts. And why I think a reason why so many arent listening to true hiphop, true rap, the same ones that the rap line no doubt listened to… It just symbolises to me that these same people are so used to the sanitized version of music that a lot of kpop produces too because jcole’s verse wasnt even that bad honestly… i don’t know, it just came across to me as the same reaction religious people will have when you tell them god doesn’t exist, and a lot of people wont take issue with that too. I know I don’t as someone who belives in a god same way I don’t care that jcole thinks atheists are stupid lool I don’t know im just seeing the hypocrisy and them being unable to let art be art, let music be music.

Ask 6: heyya bbp~!

first of all, congrats to our hobi for another great track!!! haven’t been able to stop looping it bcuz it’s that good!! not only is army loving it, i’ve also seen jcole fans saying good things too and some really checked out hobi’s discography and were impressed,,which is what i’d call a successful collab! out of curiosity i checked the khiphop reddit to read what theyre reactions are but no surprise they only praised jcole and wanted other khiphop artists to have done it instead of hobi hah! i’m surprised that they’re still as snooty towards k-idols turned rappers,,but at the same time snooty ppl be snooty lol. but i’m curious if korean khiphop fans are still turning away the rapline’s work? esp hobi since he’s really made an effort to flex his skills in jitb,,i only ever seen ifans’ opinions and they’re hardly the representative when it comes to khiphop hah!

ofc whatever they’re opinions are it doesn’t impact hobi and suga and rm’s work in the long run,,especially since they’ve earned enough respect from their idols to be able to work with them,,i’m just curious! thankss bpp!

***

These six asks more or less cover the range of questions I've been getting, so I've collated selected asks here to answer all at once. :)

Hi Anon(s),

I'll try to keep this short.

Overall and Abridged Review: On The Street for me is a solid 10/10.

The Lyrics (as I understand them)

Anon in Ask 1, first I’d like to refer you to Hobi’s interview in Variety where he talks about the song (linked here) and I’ve posted an excerpt screenshot below.

Personally, rather than On The Street having a “see you later” message (probably inferred from Hobi waving goodbye to a kid in the opening scene), I see it more as a song marking a pivotal moment in both Hobi and Cole’s careers, as Hobi reflects on the paths he has walked to this point even as he continues on this street called life, and J. Cole wonders out loud if it’s time for a change, to grow beyond his identity as a rapper. It only feels like a “see you later” song in the sense that it will be a companion song, for me personally, while Hobi serves and until he returns from enlistment. I agree with the interpretation in the YouTube comment that Hobi is also storytelling/writing his second verse through dance while J. Cole is rapping, and that this is a beautiful way to see it too - but I’ll expound more on this below in Dance and the Message.

Anon in Ask 4, J. Cole is a brilliant lyricist and it’s funny you mentioned that line in particular because when I first heard it I nearly burst out laughing at how witty and brilliant it is. That line is an example of a classic Jermaine pun. I’ll explain: A lot of people grew up learning nursery rhymes, and one of the more popular ones I recall is Hey Diddle Diddle, which has the rhyme “the cow jumped over the moon”. This nursery rhyme is also the source of the English expression to be “over the moon” I.e. excited, elated, happy. J. Cole took that children’s rhyme and flipped it on it’s head to then mean the passage of time, “as the moon jumps over the cow”. He uses it to express time passing merrily for him as he contemplates his next career move. It’s also an absolutely brilliant way to rhyme with the previous bar that ends in “Golden Corral” (which is easily one of the sickest burns in his verse).

Anon in Ask 5, I agree with you almost fully. Outrage is the name of the game and has been the zeitgeist for at least 5 years now. Like what are you doing on the internet in 2023 if you’re not here annoyed, mocking something, being critical, and raging about something else? Even if that something is another autonomous human being expressing their opinion on God on their own song… Personally, when I come across HCP personalities online, I ignore them. If they interact with me I tell them they’ll somehow find a way to manage and cope, and we’ll all be alright in the end. In the case of this song, ignore them. They'll deal.

Dance and the Message (as I understand it)

Hobi's verse in this song is only 8 bars. J-hope practically gifts this song to J. Cole who spits 32 solid bars on this track. We all know J. Cole - a veteran in the rap game who has earned respect from everyone from Hov, Ye, Kendrick, down to avantgarde heavyweights like Jay Electronica - is one of Hobi's idols and so it's heartwarming to see the way Hobi expresses his respect for J. Cole, dancing underground while J. Cole raps on top of a building with nothing but the sky above him.

J-Hope dances the entirety of J. Cole's verse, just feeling himself, losing himself to the music while his idol spits fire. It's so fucking decadent. At the end of J. Cole's verse, Hobi walks out of the subway and climbs to the top to meet J. Cole as equals.

Hobi begins the song in an NYC alley that opens up into a main street where Hobi performs the song's main choreography on. This is the same location in J. Cole's Simba - the song that starts the Simba trilogy in J. Cole's discography, which was the first main track on J. Cole's debut mixtape The Come Up that established him as a force to be reckoned with on the American rap scene at only 22 years old. The setting alone is a callback and homage to J. Cole's beginnings, on which Hobi raps about his own path, wanting to repay those who have helped formed him into what he is, and the hope he has going forward.

Hobi has done something like this before, calling his first mixtape Hope World reminiscent of J. Cole's debut studio album called Cole World.

The Media and the Message (as I understand it)

One thing I absolutely adore about BTS's songs and music videos, is that they infuse them with the sort of depth that only comes from intimately knowing and respecting the subject matter, and they do so in such a subtle way that it's obvious they expect whoever is watching to actually know both the artist and the subject. They don't spoon-feed anything to the viewer, just present the art as is and if you've done your homework, that means you're their target audience and you're right in the middle of it with them. In the Variety interview I linked above, J-hope references his documentary (Anon who sent me the ask to review it, I've only seen clips and I'm yet to watch the full thing. When I do, I'll write about it 💜), where it shows Hobi meeting J. Cole and how he struggles but ultimately communicates his adoration and respect to Jermaine, and how Jermaine graciously receives it.

Take for instance how Hobi approached Chicken Noodle Soup originally by Bianca a.k.a. Young B who at the time she made that song and its iconic choreo, was only 16 years old. The song went viral but most of the royalties went to her uncle and she received almost nothing, she never got signed to a label, and was so badly burned by the industry that she only attempted making music again nearly 10 years after Chicken Noodle Soup. Hobi credits that song as one of the catalysts that sparked his love for hip hop and street dance. He reached out to Bianca and paid full rights (not just for a sample), to her (not her uncle), to use the song, and the music video is peppered with references to Harlem, NYC, where the song and dance originated. Showing that level of courtesy to smaller Black artists is rare in the US and virtually unheard of in Korea where the Korean hiphop (KHH) community is more notorious for wearing Black drag and appropriating a history of violence and a wealth of culture that they know absolutely nothing about, except that it looks cool.

When k-pop stans wax lyrical about how BTS is racist or does a Blaccent (this personally makes me chuckle because the people you often see saying this are white people who couldn't tell you the difference between an affected accent by a non-native speaker and a Blaccent if each slapped them on either side of their face), or that BTS doesn't have the respect of the Korean (or American) hip hop scene, et cetera, I chuckle and move on. Because as I've said, none of these people actually know what they're talking about.

The OGs of the KHH scene recognized the talent of BTS's rapline since debut, and have only expressed more respect for BTS as the years have gone by. I'm talking Tablo, the rest of Epik High, Tiger JK, etc. The Jay Parks of the world took some time to catch up, and if 'studio picture-gate' is any indication, they too have quickly come around to recognizing where they fit in the landscape relative to BTS. Rappers are generally egotistical people. They usually spend their time rapping about how they're the shit. What earns you respect is if you can actually back that shit up. And once you have that respect, you don't feel threatened by another rapper because you know anyone who gets to the top has had to earn it. It's what informs the mindset of "real recognize real". Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok passed that hurdle, in my opinion, way back in 2016 with the release of Cypher Pt 4. Everything they've done since then is just jarra. And those at the very top, the Black rappers who imbibe the culture and history of rap music, have long recognized the rapline of BTS for what they are.

Personally, I love the song. The music, the whistling, the chord progression, the jazz and acoustic guitar instrumentation. Everything about it is perfect.

On The Street is an excellent example of what sets BTS apart from other idols and artists in Korea for me. This is a song conceived 100% in the mind of Jung Hoseok, and the seamlessness in execution, the maturity inherent in the respect paid to those whose music and culture they use as a medium, is present at every single point in the song. It's tastefully done, and 100% driven by the artist, and all I can do in the face of art like this, is respect it.

#“I LOVE YOU JUNK HOSEOK” is an unfortunate typo Anon in Ask 3 :)#But you're right Hobi has junk... in the front and in the trunk #At least going by that Bon Voyage ep lol #I hope you did well on your finals! 💜#jhope #on the street #j cole #bts #bts rapline #music asks #khh #jung hoseok #hoseok

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mumpsetc · 9 months

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is silvercandle as a ship misogynistic or am i just looking into this too much. i really don't like the whole "woman saves man from himself" thing going on here

Oh It Definitely Has Some Undertones That are Questionable. I Really Don't Love How Most of Candle's Arc and Elimination are For the Benefit of the Two Men Involved With Her, and the Way She Interacts With Silver Spoon Esp Benches Her Own Development.

Also, I'm Not Calling This Ship Problematic But Its... Something How a Snooty British Accented Character Looks Down on a Heavily Spiritual One for Her Spiritual Beliefs. Some Connotations There.

#dreamy.txt #ii negativity #Objective Criticism

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thementalshawty · 4 months

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Hello, sorry for bothering you. But I would like to ask you: Do you have any advice for starting to make music? Since I was a child I have liked it, but it is something that my parents didn't, so I was always away from it, to the point that now I am studying engineering that has nothing to do with music, but I can't take it anymore, seriously, I want to try. 🤧

I do!

Know that it’s what you want to do seriously or just as a hobby

Know how far you want to go with your music and where you want to stop, if you’re doing it for the game find something else it’ll be way to easy to get famous on social media platforms than music of fame is what you striving for.

Know what your brand is, everyone knows the industry will be trying to test you to see what they can bend and make you do. Stay strong in your creativity. Don’t stray from your message or what you stand on, that will help you get ahead! Don’t be afraid to say no.

Don’t just trust everyone! I know talking to your fave artist and asking for help hoping to get their validation, DO NOT DO THAT! Artists don’t help other artists unfortunately it’s a lie they tell to sound humble, plenty of artists including myself have experienced that disappointment of finding out other artists ain’t shit 🤷🏽‍♀️.

Never go to the artists for help, go above them. (be a Karen and ask for the manager or the boss). You have to remember this is a business the whole objective of the industry is to create profit, these artists work with certain companies to expand their business, they won’t tell you what they actually did because they don’t want you to succeed, (Hopefully you meet an artist who is really sincere).

Don’t hold grudges. It’s a business. Accept and keep it pushing ALWAYS! People are jerks and they’re hella entitled and snooty in this industry even the ones just starting out. Idk why and idc I just warn other artists.

Be professional! Nobody likes a messy slob who doesn’t know how to conduct themselves.

MARKETING IS KEY! Know where and how to invest your money. Don’t give money away, everything and everyone will sell you stardom and the dream don’t believe it! Use marketing

Know that nothing is organic in this industry EVERYTHING IS FABRICATED! Yes numbers and all, you think an artist has 41M streams, but most of them are fake bots paid for by their label, again this is a business so the bigger numbers are making better send so the payola isn’t something to look down on.

This is a personal opinion of mine well this whole thing is, but MAKE YOUR OWN SHIT! If you can just be innovative original and write your own lyrics the majority of the time that is amazing and it shows how talented and passionate you are about the craft I feel like bigge smalls (number 9 should have been number one to me). I feel this should’ve been the first piece of advice, but here we are.

Practice ignoring what people say, I know people say you need to have tough skin, I say Fucc that! People need to learn how to control themselves like you do, but they don’t cos people are brave esp online, so practice turning your head to it or limiting your social media comment searches. Getting feedback is cool but you must KNOW WHO YOU ARE! Everyone is going to try to make you second guess yourself! This industry is a huge ass mindfucc! PLEASE KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHAT YOU WILL AND WILL NOT STAND FOR! Also don’t be afraid to stand up to anyone! You don’t need to get loud or rude but you can stand your ground in the room.

EXPECT NO HELP! The industry really helps those whose already made it to some kind of fame or viral status, you wanna start from the ground up, lots of money coming out and no money returning, lots of rejections and doors slammed, disappointments, frustrations and more sad moments. People are out for themselves and you’ll realize that in this industry.

Accept that the fame that most people see isn’t real and there’s a price to pay that you may or may not be into. Hey if you’re into it then go ahead, many artists including myself have been approached about this offer, and Fucc that it’s not even a choice to make, well not for MY BRAND! Hence why I say KNOW YOUR BRAND! What you’re about the image that you want to put out, how you want to look, say, move, etc.

Be entertaining, I’m not going to say be yourself if it ain’t lit they won’t look your way!

Have a great stage presence!

Uhm I’m trying to think……JUST STAY COMMITTED!!! Trust your instincts!

Get a great dream team! Don’t. Try to do it all, shit there’s nothing wrong with admitting you need help just be cautious about who you get help from.

Don’t try to get signed. Independent artists are hella fire and have so much freedom and they get to keep MAJORITY OF EVERYTHING (after you split with your team).

Learn the ins and outs of the business. Esp with the genre you want to pursue.

Believe in yourself and your craft more than anyone you need to be your biggest fan……..ALWAYS.

There’s more but I didn’t even want this to be that long!

Good luck love!

#anon answered #anon ask #thanks anon!#music advice #artistsupport #music industry #musician #blaze my music #my voice #my advice #thementalshawty #rant over #rants

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squeezysreservoirofcookies · 2 years

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to explain myself under the cut:

p3 would probably cook those horrid tiktok/generally bad (or socially unacceptable) recipes with the expectation that it'll be good. there's like a 50-50 chance the food'll be actually good or it'll be the worst thing your eyes and tastebuds have experienced

oh sir dude on the other hand would literally be like that trope of a child making a heinous concoction of a """meal""" for their parents as a well-meaning surprise. he'd straight up be like "honey i made dinner just for you 😍" and it's borderline poisonous semi-radioactive material schlop

p1 probably already has a decent amount of canned food/mres/frozen pre-prepared food at the ready, as i imagine having extreme paranoia would make you not wanna get take-out often. plus i imagine that while he could cook, he just chooses not to since it can be kinda draining sometimes (take it from me, someone who occassionally likes to cook every once in a while). that and actually intrusive thoughts could get concerning for him. On a good mental health day though, he'd be at 'can cook the basics' tier

i dont think nottem gives that much of a shit enough to put in any amount of effort to ever cook himself anything decent, let alone a basic dish. I feel like MAYBE the one time he would cook something is if uh idk he's on a date?????? but even then thats questionable dsfhhsddsfh

I know corkscrew isnt technically canon but THIS IS MY POST, I MAKE THE RULES HDSFHD but i feel like corkscrew would be too impatient to cook anything decent, or he's like drunk 80% of the time, which would make cooking a little risky. also i imagine him cooking would be like that one meme video of a lady going "now add 2oz of vodka" then proceeds to pour half the bottle in like its nothing dsfhds

P2 and P4 both would only cook those easy to make, simple recipes that dont require much ingredients or preparation but for entirely different reasons. P2 is mainly bc i can see him just being too exhaused and stressed after a day out in paradise, so why add more to that? thats even if hes hungry considering the fact he ate like all the towns pizza and donuts hsdfhdjs. with p4 on the other hand he's just enjoying the simple stress free life, so why be so snooty and pretentious, especially over something he'll inhale anyway?

Recidivist and Widowmaker, based on their loose descriptions, I feel probably wouldn't have much motivation or generally aren't very hoity toity. they just want to make their dinner and so be it if it's simple, life is already difficult to them as it is. heck theyd probably just order take out or some shit. post-nottem's rein of terror, they largely wouldn't really care about cooking anyway so bare minimum it is.

Movie Dude is literally the one postal dude regional varient that actually has some sembalance of his shit together, so i imagine that in an ideal situation, he could probably cook you up a nice homemade meal. it's not gonna be food network-type worthy, but man you WILL like it

Psychocop, esp. pre-nottem's supermassive scp k-class senario, probably seemed like the kind of guy that had his dookie together and enjoyed making himself a nice dinner anytime he could make something. post-nottem's 360 noscope against humanity attempt, i can definately see him making his comrades something thats actually fucking good bc he got tired of seeing them make shitty basic ass food by themselves that wont help them out in the long run during their own rein of terror

Redux would still have the same-ish issues that P1 has, but i feel like redux would try to improve himself and try to overcome them anyway since he just wants to live a happy life just like everyone else. because of that, i imagine he'd like take cooking almost very seriously, wanting to take time (if he can) to make himself a good ass meal as a form of self-care. it would be so much so that if he ever had to be ur roommate, you'll have the bestest fuckin homemade food in ur whole damn life when he does feel like cooking. like literally lifechanging in a way. obviously he wouldnt use stupid boujie ingredients or dumb shit like that but my god you will FEEL boujie just eating it. he'd obviously have his off-days where he'd get take-out or go for pre-made but homemade makes him feel a bit better

#postal #headcanons #redux malewife material babeyyy #hatred game #also no brain damaged dude and his alter bc theyre both in pdudes mind i dont think they could ever physically cook anything

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ylfva-remade · 1 year

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okay gamers i have a problem. im 100% sure i want these 9 villagers for my isalnd. this gives me 1 of each personality minus cranky (2 normal, 2 lazy, 1 peppy, 1 snooty, 1 jock, 1 smug, 1 uchi) BUT for the last villager. idk if i want a cranky villager to fill in the spot OR one of my favs.

these are the two options, murphy (cranky) and molly (normal)

murphy would let me get all the recipies, and "balance out" my island, but molly is so special to me bc shes adorable, fits my island theme, and we have the same name kinda. i could get rid of maple or marty, and have them both but i really like those guys :( esp maple.

tldr help me

#my island theme is like #a dark forest kinda vibe #with some victorian influence

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coolusernamehere · 7 months

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name 3 AWESOME things about ROSE LALONDE!!!

HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHE i just noticed this

okay not directly about her but i love how she is described as SNOOTY its one of my favourite words and IT IS SO TRUE AND I LOVE HER FOR THAT

i also admire the fact she knits because i tried knitting and i had a full on break down over it i was crying its hard man i RESPECT— double capital R— that even tho she’s fictional and therefore she can do anything and is literally a god

shes a very serious person very formal whatever BUT SHES SILLY AND WHIMSY but its like. not out of character or too much of a contrast (which a lot of writings fumble here when making a Serious Character have a Cool Fun side) like at the start its in a fun almost kind of ~coy~ way i was obsessed fr— but like. she mingles with the other characters- esp other kids- so well because of this.

like even with the contrast of Silly Fun and Cool. to- ~Snooty~ the banter “gels” together (as ive seen it called- its the perfect word) very well, esp with john

tbh her sections (esp with dave at the start??) (what can i say look at my theme)(sucker for the strilondes) are such a treat— she has such a cool air about her

#giggling #kicking my feet #i know this is a coincidence but rose is such a secret fave of mine

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magical-xirl-4 · 11 months

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Oof, yeah. Chloe is just one of those typical rich rivals that has an obsessive crush on the main guy... and I've already seen several of those characters like her in previous animated shows from the 2000's. It's actually getting annoying now. Can we stop with the character who is rich and a rival has a massive crush on one of the protagonists, please??? Those tropes got old...really fast.

It’s so generic, I’m tried of it 😩 it’s esp disappointing because Miraculous is so unique. It’s a magical girl show with superheroes and a love square set in paris. And I can’t even think of a Japanese magical girl (even western ones) show with bully characters; they don’t exist. It’s a boring old American trope in a show that’s very unique and high concept imo, it feels out of place. Once again, I really wish Chloe was more like a friend to Marinette but her rival in fashion. Let her be snooty and up herself because she’s a rich girl, but not out right despicable. And just get rid of her crush on Adrien pls for the love of god I’m sick of heteronormativity, just have them be friends, I’m advocating for m/f friendships even when one of them is mean.

#and make Chloe gay for crying out loud. a Regina George type but way less mean and way more sapphic #miraculous ladybug #Chloe #anon #ask

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hopefulstarfire · 1 year

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Here fam have some background things to have for whenever I do get to the oc fics in terms of like Canon add-ons / changes bc fuck it why not go full out because ahahahaha. these will be shown in better detail with the prequel fic but also I'm slow, we're hitting the busy season at work and I just wanna blab about the oc stuff so this is a good way to set up background bc a lot of thought went into this bw me and my friends

Raphael is about 2-3 years younger than Cecelia and Maddox. When he was found on the island, Cecelia had maybe a couple months left alive.

The Guardians he had were originally part of a game / story that Max had set up for all of the kids in the family to play together, mostly as a means of keeping Cecelias spirits high. I'm also now realizing Eatos probably did in fact take inspiration from his mother and now I am Sad.

Max's parents had their own business and they weren't really as interested in Max or you know anything about their son. So he really did latch onto Cecelias family as his own. They also passed away on the Harmonia.

Mason, Kat and Cecelias father, was longtime friends with Alisters parents and they were considered to be members of the family as much as the Griffins were. However, everything that happened with them getting in the war torn country and then Alister becoming the lone survivor started after Miruko/Mikey was only 2.

Raphael is related through the family because his mother and Kat and Cecelias mother Evangeline were first cousins.

There is in fact a family tree and there have been discussions between me and Kohaku about all of the family bc we love them your honor.

The first Duel Monsters tournament happens when Kat is about 10-11 and its also low key the first time Seto ever sees her and one of his goals is to meet her because he's got a puppy crush. Then they meet a couple years later and it's just rivalry. Straight up ready to Duel whenever and wherever.

Evangeline and Gozaburo also ran in similar circles and thought highly of each other and if that doesn't tell you everything you needed to know about Kats mom idk what will. She didn't get to be around the Kaiba boys as much, though, usually they were too busy not really paying attention to their children (except Cecelia in Evies case), Kat and Cecelia didnt attend many parties (esp with Cecelias health and Kat doesn't like crowds and Mason didnt want them around a bunch of snooty assholes), and she only has a vague memory of a teal haired kid at a party or two but wouldn't be able to say "oh, yeah, Gozaburo had a kid before Seto and Mokuba".

The only reason they were even at the one Cecelia met Max at was because of family obligations for it.

The Big 5 are the literal worst. Just. Just all the time. Don't trust anything they do or say.

Especially not Nesbitt or Johnson.

I do also have their family dynamics figured out and also how Nesbitt spent years gaslighting Meredith in their affair about his relationship with his wife he tried to tell her he was divorcing. It's a whole mess.

Iris and River meet Seto and Mokuba about two months after they were adopted.

Seto takes over the company at the age of 13, Gozaburo still does the window thing and Seto transforms KaibaCorp into a successful gaming company.

Roland had been working for the family since probably Noa was alive but he was under strict rules to not discuss him after his death, if we go that route. He looked out for Seto and Mokuba and he and Meredith got close because they were both trying to find ways to help the brothers and give them the life they deserve and then they fell in love and are adorable.

Seto gets the Blue Eyes cards by whatever means he can, usually in feats of his own strength and has them all by the time he enters his first tournament three months after he becomes KCs president.

Death-T probably won't happen which sucks cause it's my favorite. But it's because Seto has people who would very much hold him back from doing something in that nature and offer him a bit more stability. But he's still. He's still very much Kaiba he still rips up the 4th Blue Eyes and gets smug and super competitive and makes bad calls and Iris wants to strangle him. But if he had tried to spend 8 billion yen to murder one (1) fucking teenager, Iris would have thrown him into the sun and River would have helped.

Nana and Yugi moved in with their grandparents when they were very young and their parents aren't really in the picture. Their grandma passed away when Nana was 15 and it was really sad for them all.

Nana once attempted the Puzzle but didn't get as attached and focused on it as her brother did and has been cheering him on.

Yugi solves the Puzzle when he's 15 or 16 and then the events of the manga play out.

The gang will be 17ish by the time Duelist Kingdom pans out or are turning 17/18.

Miho and Tomoya will be featured more prominently and as proper members to the gang and show up throughout the series with Joey, Tea, and Tristan. Ryou will also be getting more focus.

I'll have more when my brains not tired.

#yugioh ocs #ygo ocs #yugioh #ygo #you painted colors in my heart i could never replace

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nicadilly · 3 years

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what are your opinions on the other courtiers? (esp volta)

Omg thank you for the ask, ill do my best nons. Some of these come easier than others, and im fully aware my takes might be weird/unpopular but as long as im having a blast i think its fine. And im just riffing btw, not following any specific format:

Volta

She celebrates not getting kicked or pushed by anyone... I feel like that's pretty telling of her being a very punished/tragic character. But she also disrespects Vulgora and fights them back, so she can’t be completely helpless. I personally adore the idea of Volta being like a mongoose - will destroy you given the chance (literally. Super potent digestive juices? corrosive saliva? Teeth that never seem to end when you look into her mouth? All checked in my book. I'm thinking Pennywise's mouth from “IT” remakes or a sea turtle's mouth)

And YEAH she could mess up Valdemar, controversial opinion ik. They just get sucked in like spaghetti and DIE knowing the “weakest” of the demons was a herald of their demise >:)

Vlastomil

Basically always snooty and prone to blaming others for everything wrong in his life. Even when he’s hyping about the study of invertebrates, he manages to shade you and be patronizing... At the same time though, he is very zesty. Fun conversation partner and the best associate if you manage to get in his good graces. I also hc him to have ambiguous genitalia, and YES if you cut him in half there will be two Vlastomils :) just like earthworms. Overall a lot of cool wormy features that people pick up on overtime. I feel like some will disagree but I always saw him as a “chaotic neutral” kind of char. Should be evil, yes. But he’s just too fun and lovable imo. Like a snarky professor you weirdly like and respect. He’s also a bottom on a mission. Get it peepaw.

Vulgora

DEVS. DID. VULGORA. DIRTY. And I, for one, love it. No matter how you look at their patron arcana - Vulgora is fucked. If it was always their patron, I don't blame them for making a pact with the devil. Trying to avoid great pain, upheaval and loss seems natural. They are the courtier I would want to get lore on THE MOST. I want to know how their life was before “the demoning” sooo bad. As for their disposition - fun. Frenemies with Lucio, threatens Valdemar, doesn't realize they’re always screaming... just a fun little dude (gnc). I mentioned before that I defo see them doing public beheadings, ancient rome style (they’re the leader of the guard, a high ranking noble... they probably are doing it and its legal). As I said. Fun.

Also they hold the highest score in the game of “push Volta off the stairs”. Valdemar comes in 2nd.

Valerius

I honestly don't feel like I can do Val justice. That's all on @c0nsul-valerius. I will try tho! He’s always been torn between actually wanting to do good and upholding his own reputation/pride no matter the cost. The moment his rep is on the line, everything gets sidelined; relationships, acquaintances, morals. It’s delicious how he’s fleshed out in Nadia's route, just that one encounter, seeing how warped and disgusting he became, how ashamed of it all he is - i really want to see that vulnerability again, get to “crack him open” in a way and see how he would be when there's no obligations, work, or masks being put on for the public.

Valdemar

I have... too many hc’s and theories. I would love to overshare in the future! For this post though I'll try to keep it brief. I think people give Valdemar TOO MUCH CREDIT. An amnesiac apprentice, fresh out of the nest manages to kick their pathetic concave ass time and again. And while the apprentice is made to be OP in game, one would think an ancient demon, capable of raising cities, fallen armies and planning to challenge the devil would easily handle an inexperienced magician (and a redhead armed with a chair) but instead they always abscond. Sure, it could be them just going “LOL” and running off to irk people, but Lucio and Julian routes show them to be rattled by getting SLIGHTLY CHAFED. WIMPDEMAR REAL, DESERVES TO BE JOSTLED. They are on the spectrum and mask it so-so, loves a good stimmy. ALSO - MASSIVE HYPOCHONDRIAC, even tho they cant really get sick anymore. Obsessed with disinfecting everything and everyone.

#the arcana hc #arcana imagines #the arcana courtiers #the arcana #the arcana game #hcs #the courtiers #procurator volta #pontifex vulgora #praetor vlastomil #consul valerius #quaestor valdemar #remembering that post abt valdemar being dumb as rocks #im in that team #punished valdemar fandom #if anyone wants to break every single bone in their plank body hey #shake my gnarled witch hand

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huntertherapyeras · 2 years

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Gymnastics AU ? 👀 what’s the backstory/setup? What’s your favorite thing about it?

omg so its still in the baby stages because i just remembered id been planning on doing smth with it tonight but BASICALLY !!!

(.... strap in cay i was a gymnastics coach for 9 years so theres gonna be some jargon uwu)

it starts with luz (maybe somewhat younger than in canon, like 12 since most 14 yo junior olympic program gymnasts are in the higher levels by then for elitism reasons) starting at a new gym! she's a late starting gymnast and only did classes taught by eda at the local rec center in her town! eda saw a lot of potential in her and encouraged her mom to get her into real classes and at a full-fledged gym and she quickly gets invited onto the team because the coaches see she has potential too! its a little discouraging for her, though, because all of the other kids on her competitive level are much younger than she is since she started later! after a season, she decides to transfer into the xcel program (probably xcel silver training gold, which is like jo level 3 training 4) from level 2 training 3 because xcel gymnasts are usually a bit older and she realizes she doesnt really want to go elite later

amity is at the same gym, but she's at a much higher competitive level already (still deciding where, but probably like... level 8 training 9 out of the 10 JO levels and also training HOPES which is elite for younger gymnasts). she is losing her love for gymnastics because of the pressure her parents put on her and is struggling a bit with perfectionism affecting her eating habits during the story! she also struggles with chronic pain because she is naturally hypermobile and that manifests as pain early on esp for kids in high impact sports

amity and luz meet at open gym and at first amity is kinda Snooty bc her parents wouldnt approve of her interacting with someone already so old in "baby gymnastics" and also because luz seems to have so much fun doing stuff still that it makes amity a bit jealous... luz eventually wins her over sheerly by how nice she is ofc and they end up having baby crushes and dating later on

gus is a younger kid on the boys jo team (10 at the beginning of the story and training boys level 6!!!) and he is something of a prodigy, though he has a rivalry with mattholomule at one point they eventually become friends

willow is a jo level 4 gymnast struggling with mental blocks at the beginning of the story and eventually transfers over to xcel with luz!

eda is a former gymnast who had to quit due to an injury caused by her undiagnosed chronic illness (eds/pots) and she also deals with complex regional pain syndrome (a nerve disorder) from the injury, so she isnt able to coach more than the two hours a week she does at the community center. she also has an adopted son (king) and her beloved cane is named owlbert 💜 later on in the story luz starts to do assistant coaching with eda so she can open up some preschool classes at the center on weekends :3

but lillith never got injured and ended up later becoming a gymnastics judge. shes not a huge character in this but she does cause problems with everyone by being a picky judge 🙄

oh and ed and em are both 14 at the beginning of the story! em is an elite gymnast but later switches to rhythmic and ed is an elite boys gymnast!

favorite thing is definitely reimagining the world from a gymnastics lens omg

theres a lot more i gotta iron out but thats the gist of things!!!!! very excited to work on this uwu thank you for asking!!!!

#toh gymnast au #lumity gymnast au #toh #aster.exe #my aus #im vibrating like a cold chihuahua im so pumped up rn

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