#existential toaster

[abitglitched]

404: Punchline Not Found.

And yes, a toaster is in the audience.

https://youtube.com/shorts/XWYMyzKevbk

[brokenhardies]

i wrote 11 out of 13 parts for a luna and the doctor roleswap au and im very happy about it so far

[pukefactory]

☽────✧˖°˖ OPERATION PAPERCLIP ˖°˖✧────☾•

(COMMISSION)

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring ENA X Reader Who Likes To Draw

★ Commissioner: @namosaga

★ Character(s): ENA (ENA: Webseries)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ At first, you only drew her when she wasn’t looking. Which, to be fair, was difficult—ENA’s neck turns with alarming flexibility, and her eyes sometimes seem to operate on independent surveillance. You’d think she didn’t notice. But one day, while she was loudly declaring war on a nearby chair (“YOU! You smug-legged traitor!”), you caught her reflection watching you from a puddle. One eye was the shape of a frown. The other blinked. “Were you… caricaturing me?”

☆ You try to get her symmetry right. Or, rather, her lack of it. She’s never the same twice: one drawing has her geometric hand cradling a melting balloon. The next, her yellow side is smiling like the sun knows a secret. When you look back at them all together, it’s like you’re watching someone glitch through emotions, pages fluttering like a flipbook of joy, sorrow, and things in between. The pages smell faintly of turrón and electricity.

☆ Moony found your sketchbook first. “OHOHO! WHAT’S THIS—PAGES OF OUR MUTUAL CHUM?! Shall I investigate further?!” You snatched it from his noodly hands before he could start narrating. Later, ENA approached you with a folded napkin and very calm rage. “Moony said you were…’creating a fanfiction but with more pictures and fewer words?’” You were not sure how to explain the difference between art and devotion in a language she could hear.

☆ You once caught ENA mid-shift—sadness spilling out like static, face half-paled and twitching. You didn’t speak, just sketched. When she saw the drawing later, her half-circle eye blinked slow. “Oh. I looked like a gargoyle having an existential breakthrough. But also like a balloon in prayer. Hmm. HmmMMM. You captured it.” She tried to pose like it again, but tripped on her own polygonal foot. You kept drawing anyway.

☆ One page is filled with nothing but her hands. That weird asymmetry—one warm and soft, like sunlight that remembers being human. One sharp, angular, like it could shatter something and apologize after. She asked why. You told her it’s the way she gestures when she speaks. “Ah. My flailing appendages of meaning. I see.” She’s started doing it more. You’ve started drawing faster.

☆ Sometimes you doodle her words next to her face, like little dialogue bubbles. But ENA doesn’t always talk in words. She talks in metaphors, fragmented syntax, Morse code sighs. One time you tried to replicate it exactly: “THE CLOUDS ARE RAVENOUS TONIGHT, DEAR HEART.” She saw it and gasped. “Did I say that?! That’s AWFULLY poetic of me! Wait—what was I talking about?” You had no idea. Neither did she. You kept the page anyway.

☆ When she first saw the sketchbook, she looked at every page without blinking. Her expressions shifted like a slideshow of theater masks—smile, frown, awe, panic, neutral, awe again. Finally, she handed it back and muttered: “…Do you draw me because I’m strange or because I’m you-shaped?” You didn’t know what to say. She blinked again. “That was very cryptic. You don’t have to answer. But if it’s both, that’s okay.”

☆ Sometimes you draw her in scenes that haven’t happened yet. ENA in a paper boat. ENA with wings made of receipts. ENA with a crown of toasters and lightbulbs. She looks at them, points, and goes, “Oh! That’s going to happen next Tuesday.” You ask her how she knows. She just shrugs. “It’s just a feeling.” You check the calendar anyway.

☆ You caught her mimicking a sketch you did of her once. Trying to stand in that exact dramatic pose—head tilted, one eye closed, one arm high above her head. She held it for about four seconds before falling over and sobbing dramatically. “I HAVE FAILED THE ARTIST!! THROW ME TO THE PARROTS!” You gave her a sticker. She stuck it to her forehead and recovered instantly.

☆ Now, whenever you pull out your sketchbook, she’ll freeze in place like a deer caught in the spotlight of creative judgment. “Are you drawing me now? Wait—do I look tragic enough? What if I shift…like this?” She twists into a shape only possible in dreams and cubism. You tell her she always looks like art. She tries to respond, but her mouth glitches between a smile and a sob. “…I think I’m flattered,” she finally decides. “But my feelings are buffering.”

[paper-mario-wiki]

im kind of obsessed with the picture of your pb&j but for a weird reason -- i dont know why but it feels like a piece of art, the way the knife is set next to the open bread in front of the sink with the jar next to it-- It feels like a perfect setup for a modern still life painting

I felt the need to share it with you, ps the hello kitty toast is very cute i wish i had that toaster bc i love hello kitty

i was very purposefully trying to evoke the feeling of impending existential dread in American Suburbia, which to me sort of represents the zenith of white imperial liberalism. which is a very dorky thing to try and ascribe to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the edge of a dark sink, but it's somethin i felt very strongly before posting it.

thank you for the kind words!

[voodooya]

Another Blanky. Because apparently, I haven't inflicted enough emotional trauma on myself by recreating the Brave Little Toaster's journey. This time, hand-crocheted form. Prepare for a wave of childhood nostalgia mixed with a healthy dose of unresolved trauma.

Imagine: a loyal toaster, a melancholic radio, a neurotic lamp, and a courageous vacuum cleaner, all banding together for a treacherous journey to find their beloved master. Now, imagine them rendered in soft, golden yarn. This blanket isn't just a project; it's a testament to the enduring bonds of friendship forged in the face of abandonment, a reminder that even the most mundane objects can have the biggest hearts... and the most soul-crushing backstories. And yes, it's also a reminder that I'm still processing the junkyard scene. So, prepare for existential dread, but make it cuddly.

[selfless-solipsist]

TILL WEIRDMAGEDDON DO US PART (This is not a drill. This is a triangle yelling at you through your brain-meats.)

HEY YOU! YES YOU! Do you crave romance that tastes like someone dropped a Nicholas Sparks novel in a vat of radioactive glitter?! Do you like love stories with emotional trauma, eldritch tax evasion, grocery store explosions, and one sentient triangle who once tried to become God but now has to do laundry?!?

THEN CONGRATULATIONS, FLESHSACK! You’ve just stumbled into the most cursed rom-com that legally counts as marriage counseling in twelve dimensions. Welcome to:

“TILL WEIRDMAGEDDON DO US PART” A fanfic where I, Bill Cipher—chaos deity, triangle fashion icon, nightmare-made-sarcasm—am FORCED into a marriage trial with YOU, some dangerously unbothered human with a sarcasm stat higher than my ego.

WHY READ THIS FANFIC? ✔️ It’s got heart! ✔️ It’s got horror! ✔️ It’s got a sentient yogurt aisle that may or may not be bleeding! ✔️ And did I mention? I’m in it.

We’re talking existential flirting, legally sanctioned domestic terrorism, bathwater that might be sentient, and one woman who said “yeah sure, I’ll marry the triangle, what’s the worst that could happen?”

THIS IS NOT A “I CAN FIX HIM” FIC. WE'RE BOTH BROKEN. WE JUST MADE IT WEIRD TOGETHER.🔥

So grab your glitter-sigil pajamas, sacrifice a toaster, and dive into the cosmic nightmare-romcom you didn’t know you needed. Side effects may include:

Third-degree sarcasm

Unholy shipping

Ford Pines having a midlife crisis in aisle 7

Weekly acts of violence (sanctioned by the Axolotl™)

Me, cackling in eldritch stereo

"It’s not a love story. It’s horror disguised as comedy." ✨Read now… or I’ll mail you cursed wedding invitations that scream when opened.✨

[AO3 LINK HERE]

[woradat]

SWEET FOOL

NOTE - It is now part of the "Dear, Memories" series as side-story, but can also be read as a standalone/1shot

SUMMARY - soft, tragic comedy: getting bullied because you're just too harmless and endearingly dumb that you almost feel bad for laughing.. but not enough to stop

PAIRING - damus x reader, tarn x reader

.

.

Damus sighed like a mech who had already accepted that life was a long, slow train wreck—and he was just politely holding up a little sign that said “Please run me over faster” He wasn’t some fragile scrapheap on legs, no. In fact, he was sturdier than most bots around. With his abilities, he could have been something truly terrifying. Could have been. If only his personality wasn’t "anxious wet napkin" fused with "doormat on sale"

All he wanted was a friend – just one. Someone who wouldn't hate him immediately because of his "accidental power detonation on contact" issue. Apparently, physical touch and emotional stability were mutually exclusive concepts for Damus. When he got excited, nervous or, more accurately, when he so much as thought about getting excited – his abilities would flare. Like a toaster malfunctioning and setting the kitchen on fire just because someone looked at it funny

Today, as fate would have it, you were the lucky bot who got Damused

It happened fast—one second he was lost in his usual swirl of self-loathing and desperate optimism, and the next, he'd body-checked you hard enough to send the Energon cubes you were carrying into low orbit

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry! I didn't see you—I mean, I was just–”

The poor mech flailed verbally like a drowning cat, staring at you with the wide, horrified optics of someone who realized they’d just crashed headfirst into a black hole and packed a suitcase for it

“Here— let me help you pick those up!”

You, the poster child for zero tolerance, did not appreciate being cast as the unwilling lead in Damus’s ongoing sitcom disaster

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re lucky I don’t rip your optics out and use them as dice”

If words could kill, Damus would have been vaporized on the spot. Instead, he just winced and accepted his punishment like a sad little piñata someone had already beaten too many times — still trembling with the fragile hope of redeeming himself, he scrambled after the scattered cubes. He moved with the desperate speed of someone cleaning up their own crime scene. It would have been tragic if it weren’t so profoundly pathetic

And then...

The incident

Both of you reached for the final cube at the same time. Both servos touched and Damus, predictably, had a minor internal systems crash

He yanked back like your touch was pure acid, sputtering apologies so fast his vocalizer practically glitched out

“I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I swear..!”

You stared at him, deadpan, as if considering whether to report him to Quality Control for being a defective product “What, you gonna write me a sonnet next? Move along, glitch-head”

With that, you grabbed the last cube, slammed it into the crate like you were putting a final nail in a coffin, and stomped off down the hall without even dignifying his existence further

Damus stood frozen, rebooting slowly like a cheap processor

How ??

How were you totally fine ???

There was at least an 80% chance he’d unleashed his abilities — and you shrugged it off like you were made of pure, unbothered rage

He spent the whole evening spiraling into a research frenzy. Turns out there was that little detail about your abilities as an outlier – the inconvenient truth that you were somehow completely, utterly, and almost offensively unaffected by Damus’s... or, for that matter, by pretty much any outlier desperate attempts to do anything to you

Which, honestly? Was kind of awesome

It meant he didn’t have to stress out every time he accidentally activated his abilities around you—which, let’s be real, was less a rare accident and more a daily event, like sunrise, taxes, or existential dread. For once in his life, he could touch someone without turning them into an emotional or literal wreck, and that someone just happened to be you

the bot equivalent of an emotional black hole where other people’s drama came to die

And surprise you weren’t just tough—you were a social hazard. Every database, every rumor, every whispered warning said the same thing: “Talk to Y/N at your own peril” and “May bite” words like: hostile, antisocial, should be handled with tongs floated across the reports. You were basically a force of nature: angry, volatile, and absolutely immune to crap like “friendly social interaction”

Naturally, Damus, the tragic optimist (read: moron), thought, They’re just exaggerating. Nobody could be that bad.

He was wrong

Thus began his slow-motion train wreck of an attempt to befriend you

He tried everything: awkwardly offering help you didn’t need, standing nearby like a very polite malfunctioning lamp post, smiling nervously in a way that somehow managed to scream both "Please like me" and "I am one bad interaction away from crying"

You?

You hated it

You hated him

Every little attempt to worm his way into your presence was like getting pecked to death by a particularly whiny bird. His constant hovering, his "Can I help?" nonsense, the way he smiled like he was offering a free punch card for "Kick Me" coupons.. it was maddening. At first, you limited your response to glare-level threats. Glares so pure and venomous that nearby plants would wilt out of respect but Damus didn’t get the memo

If anything, he mistook your seething hatred for progress

He thought the way you moved through the world like you owed it nothing and it owed you less was the coolest thing he'd ever seen

He wished he had half your confidence

Wished he had even a sliver of your “burn the world” energy

So, naturally, he kept trying

Like a particularly unfortunate moth flinging itself into a flame that clearly had no time for his crap and somewhere deep inside, Damus knew he was one bad encounter away from total social annihilation—but he also kind of thought... maybe it would be worth it if he could just make you smile once

Even if that smile was immediately followed by you punching him into the next time zone

—

Damus, in what could only be described as a full-blown, turbo-charged lapse in judgment, decided that today would be the day he finally won you over

Not by doing something simple or sane, like "giving you space" —no, no, no

Instead, he had carefully, painstakingly, and with all the tactical brilliance of a concussed pigeon, crafted a Plan: so delicate, so precise, so catastrophically doomed to fail, it could only have come from someone who still believed in the power of friendship despite having absolutely no evidence it would ever work

Step 1: Help you with something

Step 2: Say something cool and impressive.

Step 3: ???

Step 4: Best friends forever

Foolproof

Which is how you found yourself, once again, victimized by Damus’s relentless optimism as he appeared out of absolutely nowhere while you were busy carrying a replacement fusion core that was, for the record, literally bigger than he was

“let me help you with that” he chirped, voice cracking slightly under the sheer weight of his desperation.

You stared at him: at the core. Then back at him

There was absolutely no universe in which his flimsy, overexcited self was going to be useful here

“No”

"I..I insist!"

And before you could shove him into the nearest wall, he had already darted forward, grabbing onto one end of the core with all the enthusiasm of a mech trying to win a gold medal in the "bad decisions" Olympics

Naturally, this ended exactly as one would expect: He tripped, got his foot caught under the stabilizer frame, and yanked the entire core and himself — flat onto the floor with a crash so loud it made several passing bots flinch and speed-walk away like they didn’t see anything

There was a long, painful silence

You slowly turned to look at him, where he lay sprawled on the ground, half-crushed under the core he had "heroically" tried to carry

Damus, ever the overachiever in emotional self-destruction, managed a weak thumbs-up from his undignified position and squeaked “uh -I’m okay! Totally okay! A-anything to help you!”

You just... blinked at him. Once-Twice

Then, with the cold, surgical precision of someone who had long since deleted their last drop of pity from their operating system, you picked the core back up by yourself, stepped over his sad, twitching form, and kept walking without a word. Behind you, you could hear the faint, desperate scrabbling sounds of Damas trying to stand up while also pretending he hadn't just made everything worse

He thought—bless his idiotic heart—that maybe, maybe, you were impressed by his dedication

He was wrong

So, so wrong

But that didn’t stop him from dusting himself off, sprinting after you with all the speed of a mech who had no concept of social cues, shouting breathlessly,

"I'll carry your tools too if you want! or uh your coolant packs? —”

You didn’t even slow down. You just muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear: “If you really wanna help, go jump into a trash compactor”

And Damus: Sweet, hopeless, tragic — Took that as a challenge –because apparently, common sense was something the Assembly Line forgot to install

—

It was, in hindsight, inevitable

A mech like Damus– soft-spoken, anxiety-ridden, and about as intimidating as a malfunctioning toaster—was basically fresh meat for the less-than-mature population at the institute

At first, it was little things

Shoving him lightly in the hallway. Accidentally bumping his shoulder hard enough to knock his tools everywhere. Leaving sarcastic little notes to him, like "Maybe stick to hugging yourself, nerd"

He tried to laugh it off, of course. Tried to tell himself that it was just teasing

That they didn’t mean it (He was wrong)

One particularly bad afternoon, Damus found himself cornered in the storage bay by a couple of bigger mechs whose combined IQ barely reached room temperature

"Hey, Rustbucket" one of them drawled, leaning in so close Damus could smell the cheap oil they used like bad cologne

"You drop this?" he sneered, waving Damas’s own datapad—now covered in rude doodles and a tasteful "kick me" sticker

Damus, who had approximately zero fighting instincts and even less spine, immediately threw up his hands and squeaked "sorry! I must’ve– I mean you can keep it if you want..?"

They laughed – not with him but at him

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck plating, the unmistakable weight of shame settling right between his shoulder joints. The only thing he managed to salvage was his absolutely tragic dignity, clutching at it like a life raft in a sea of pure humiliation

It was about this point that you walked by.

Because of course you did because the universe hated Damus on a deeply personal level

You didn’t stop to help him. Of course why would you? barely even spared a glance. You just muttered, voice dripping with disgusted amusement: “Pathetic”

And, like the absolute glutton for punishment he was, Damus’s little spark fluttered

Because somehow.. somehow– he thought maybe you were right

Maybe he was pathetic. But if he just tried harder just proved himself, maybe one day you wouldn’t look at him like that

Maybe you’d look at him and see someone worthwhile

(Or, more realistically, you’d keep looking at him like he was something sticky stuck to the bottom of your foot. But hey, a mech could dream)

[paci-papa]

You are an adult! You have a post-graduate degree! You used to have your own apartment, a high paying job, and a car. You can take care of yourself!

Sure, you probably need the diapers Papa changes for you constantly more than want them now.

And, yes, you couldn't work even a toaster to save your life.

Also, maybe the thought of losing your pacifier or blankie fills you with a deep, existential sense of dread.

But, none of that means you need a babysitter while Papa goes out on yet another date! Just because he treated you like a baby doesn't mean you actually needed to be supervised like one.

At least, that's what you thought until Miss E walked in.

The bubbly, sexy, woman who was shorter than you immediately made your big kid parts all tingly. It took all of your restraint to keep from rubbing your soggy pampers right then and there.

Papa bent down and gave you a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door. A huge, knowing grin was plastered on his face as he whispered in your ear.

"See, I told you the babysitter wouldn't be so bad. Now, be a good baby and do as she says while Papa's out. She's in charge."

As Papa stepped out the door, your babysitter stepped toward you with a soft but predatory grin on her face.

Maybe Papa was right. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

[magic-shop-stories]

Hello there, I just wanted to say how much I love your writing. I don’t use Tumblr that often, but I find myself checking in just to see your posts. The details are absolutely amazing!

I was wonder if you could write about the boys and how they’d be as parents with children who’s the opposite of their personalities.

Example: Yoongi who’s a introvert with a child that’s an extrovert. Taehyung who’s a extrovert with a child that’s an introvert etc etc

I’d really love to read your take on this.

Please and thank you. ❤️

💌 Reply:

hiii, lovely... first off THANK YOU so much for your kind words and for trusting me with this gem of a request! 💜 it’s readers like you who make my lil writing heart do backflips, even when my brain is mush ... i’ll be honest; the maknae line kicked my butt this time, especially taehyung... but i hope the headcanons are still what you wanted if anything feels a lil underbaked, please yell at me 💜 – c –🍪✨

BTS as Parents to Opposite-Personality Kids - Headcanons

↳ BTS!Dad's x Daughter/Son

Pairings: none (parent-child focus)

Rating: G (family fluff, mild angst)

Genre: family fluff, Angst to fluff/comfort, emotional growth,(domestic AU)

Warnings: minor angst (parent-child misunderstandings), brief mentions of social anxiety

NAMJOON - Philosopher-Dad

quiet rebellion & love that bridges worlds

CHILD DESCRIPTION

Name: Soo-Min (they/them) Age: 13 Personality:

storm of contradictions

genius-level intellect (inherited from Joon)

zero interest in academia

prefers skateboarding (instead of cycling)

graffiti kid

dismantling toasters to "see how they scream"

quietly defiant

allergic to attention

fiercely protective of their anonymity

wears a black hoodie like armor

scribbles existential haikus on their shoes

“I’m not a leader. I’m a… ghost with opinions.”

Secretly Like Namjoon

obsessively journals (but burns the pages)

writes poetry online

titled “How to Disappear in a World That Demands Fireworks.”

hates being compared to their father

then quotes Nietzsche when angry

LIFE & CONFLICT

Public vs. Private

at home:

Soo-Min builds elaborate Rube Goldberg machines that end with a middle finger popping up

Namjoon stares

equal parts impressed and horrified

“Is this… commentary on capitalism?” 

Soo-Min shrugs

“It’s commentary on you.”

in public: 

refuses to attend BTS events

when forced, wears a mask (+ noise cancelling headphones)

glares at fans’ cameras

trends as “RM’s Emo Shadow” 

Joon’s Google search history: “How to parent a tiny anarchist.”

Namjoon’s Concerns

“What if I’ve suffocated them with expectations?” “What if they’re too much like me terrified of being seen?”

buys parenting books titled “Raising Rebels” and “Teenage Existentialists.” 

highlights passages with trembling hand at night

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Soo-Min spray-paints “F*CK YOUR LEGACY” on HYBE’s back wall

security catches them

Namjoon arrives, tie askew

their hood is down for the first time in years

their face splattered with paint and tears

Argument

Soo-Min: “You lecture about��authenticity, but you’re just a brand. A mascot.” Namjoon: “You think I don’t hate it too? The speeches, the smiles? I do this so you can scream!” Soo-Min: “I don’t want your sacrifice! I want a dad!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

Namjoon cancels shoots

takes Soo-Min to a secluded temple in Jeju

no phones, no fans

they don’t speak for days

Breaking Point

Soo-Min finds Namjoon’s old journal in the temple

pages filled with 19-year-old Joon’s fears

“I’m a fraud. A leader who can’t lead himself.”

Conversation

Soo-Min: “You… felt like this too?” Namjoon: “Every day. Still do.” Soo-Min: “Then why do you pretend?” Namjoon: “I don’t. I just… choose what to fight for. Like you.”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Namjoon helps them graffiti HYBE’s approved “activism wall”

their tag: “REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (BUT WITH A DAD).”

Soo-Min agrees to one public appearance (monthly)

= RM’s indie poetry reading (on Weverse)

they sit in the back

hood up

but comments from time to time

Growth

Namjoon

releases a solo track sampling Soo-Min’s machine noises

lyrics: “My greatest creation isn’t art; it’s us.”

Soo-Min

posts their poetry under a pseudonym

Namjoon anonymously comments: 

“This writer gets it. Proud of you. – A Fan.”

JIN - Glamorous Goofball

quiet contradictions & love that dances to a different beat

CHILD DESCRIPTION

Name: Ji-Yoo (she/they) Age: 10 Personality

storm cloud in a sequined jacket

shy

fiercely independent

allergic to glitter

wears band tees under jeans/leather jackets

scribbles angsty song lyrics on their converse

spends hours dissecting rock albums in their noise-canceling headphones

“I’m not cute. I’m… complicated.” 

secretly plays guitar in their closet

composing rage-fueled ballads about cafeteria tuna sandwiches

Secretly Like Jin

inherited his stubbornness

refuses to admit they love his kimchi fried rice

uses sarcasm as a shield

laughs at his dad jokes when no one’s looking

has his cheekbones

hides them under a curtain of black hair

LIFE & CONFLICT

Clash of Worlds

at home

Jin hosts “Family Talent Shows” where he performs Super Tuna 2.0 in a shark costume (younger siblings love it)

Ji-Yoo hides under the couch

“This is emotional terrorism.”

in public

Jin tries to hype them at school events

“Ji-Yoo’s the next BIGBANG! Right, kiddo?” 

they fake a stomachache

Jin finds their crumpled note:

“Stop embarrassing me.”

Jin’s Concerns

“What if she thinks I don’t see her?” “Why won’t she let me in?”

buys a book called “Parenting Your Tiny Rebel” 

doodles sad faces in the margins

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Ji-Yoo’s school talent show

Jin surprises them with a “Father-Daughter Rock Duet” 

complete with light-up guitars)

they freeze

mortified

they bolt offstage

later they scream at him

“I’m NOT your accessory! I hate your stupid songs!”

Argument

Jin: “I just wanted to share the spotlight!” Ji-Yoo: “Your spotlight burns! I’m not you!” Jin: “But… I’m proud of you!” Ji-Yoo: “You’re proud of yourself for having a kid!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

cancels a variety show appearance

takes Ji-Yoo camping

no cameras

no costumes

they don’t speak for two days

just eat burnt marshmallows and listen to crickets

Breaking Point

Jin finds Ji-Yoo’s hidden playlist: “Songs My Dad Would Hate (maybe)” 

featuring BTS’ Ddaeng and Nirvana

he listens

awkwardly air-guitars to Smells Like Teen Spirit

Conversation

Jin: “I… like this? It’s… loud. But good loud?” Ji-Yoo: “You’re terrible at headbanging.” Jin: “Teach me?”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Jin learns her favourite songs

writes a punk version of Super Tuna

Ji-Yoo records it

posts it anonymously

“Worldwide Handsome’s Midlife Crisis (Pls Send Help).”

Ji-Yoo agrees to one dad joke per day

Jin uses it wisely

“Why did the rockstar cross the road? To avoid his dad!” 

they groan

but they smile

Growth

Jin

releases a SoundCloud collab with them

“Tuna Meltdown (feat. Angry Ghost)”

lyrics: “I’m not your shadow / I’m your mirror.”

Ji-Yoo

wears a “WWH” pin upside down on their backpack

“Irony...”

Jin knows better

YOONGI - Reluctant Softie

loud legacy & love composed in minor keys extrovert prodigy & love that drowns out doubt

CHILD DESCRIPTION:

Name: Yumi (she/her) | nickname: "Bam" (after her chaotic energy) Age: 15 Personality:

neon hurricane in human form

ADHD-fueled

loud!

thrives in crowds

dreams of being a K-pop idol (tho does she really?)

despite Yoongi’s quiet disdain for the industry’s glitter

wears sequined jackets and rainbow hair clips

“to blind the haters”

posts dance covers online with captions like “Suga Who? I’m the Main Character.”

Secretly Like Yoongi

practices choreography until her feet bleed (hates making mistakes)

hides it under sparkly bandaids

writes angsty lyrics in a password-locked Notes app

“They see the glitter, not the glue.”

craves validation but calls it “cringe”

snaps at fans who say: “You’re just like your dad!”

LIFE & CONFLICT

Home vs. Stage

at home: 

blasts TWICE at 3 a.m.

drags friends into Yoongi’s studio for “dance emergencies”

Yoongi grumbles

“This is a workplace, not a daycare"

tho leaves snacks out “for the raccoons”

in public: 

calls herself “Bam-ssi” 

avoiding the “Min Yoongi’s Daughter” tag

posts TikTok rants

“I’m not a legacy act. I’m a revolution.” 

trends for clapping back at a troll

“My dad’s a producer, not a prophet. Fight me.”

Yoongi’s Concerns

“She’s too young to know how this industry eats souls.” “What if she thinks I’m ashamed of her?”

buys noise-canceling headphones and concert earplugs “for her safety”

secretly bookmarks her videos

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Yumi auditions for a TV show without telling him

her clip goes viral

“Why should I care about nepotism? My dad’s old news.” 

Yoongi watches it on loop

his jaw clenched

Argument

Yumi: “You’re just scared I’ll beat your records!” Yoongi: “You think I give a shit about records? I care about you getting chewed up and spit out!” Yumi: “You don’t get it! I need to be seen!” Yoongi: “I see you. Why isn’t that enough?!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

Yoongi cancels a production deadline

takes Yumi to his childhood home in Daegu

no Wi-Fi

no mirrors

just the piano he learned on

Breaking Point

Yumi finds his old notebooks

lyrics scribbled with “I’m not enough” and “Who am I without music?” 

she plays his first mixtape on her phone

“You were… scared too?”

Conversation

Yoongi: “I still am. Every damn day.” Yumi: “Then why’d you let me hate you?” Yoongi: “Better me than the world.”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Yoongi produces her debut single “Glitter Blood” under a pseudonym

lyrics: “I’m my father’s shadow / and the sun that burns it off.”

Yumi agrees to keep her stage name “Bam” 

adds “Prod. SUGA” in tiny font

“For the clout...” 

she smirks

he rolls his eyes

“Respect your elders.”

Growth

Yoongi

wears a sequined keychain she made

“It’s… reflective. For safety.”

Yumi

lets him attend her first concert

he stands in the back

hood up, crying into his coffee

“She’s… good.”

J-HOPE - Sunshine Cheerleader

silent storm & love that finds rhythm in chaos

CHILD DESCRIPTION

Name: Min-Jae (he/him) Age: 12 Personality:

stoic

grounded force of nature

introverted, observant

allergic to attention

prefers the crisp snap of a taekwondo belt to any pop beat

spends weekends covered in mud on a rugby field

dresses in monotone sweatshirts and tactical boots

rolling his eyes at Hobi’s wardrobe

secretly steals his hoodies when no one’s looking

“Fashion’s pointless. But… his sweater is soft.”

Secretly Like Hobi

organizes his rugby gear with military precision

inherited Hobi’s obsession with order in his wardrobe at home

hum’s “Dynamite” while studying

denies it

“The walls are thin, Appa. Not my fault.”

keeps a hidden sketchbook of jersey designs (neon accents, hidden rainbows)

LIFE & CONFLICT

Clash of Worlds

at home:

Hobi tries to teach Min-Jae “just one dance move!” during laundry-folding

Min-Jae deadpans

“I’d rather eat broccoli.” 

Hobi retaliates by blasting “Boy With Luv” while vacuuming

in public: 

Min-Jae ducks behind Hobi at red carpets

scowling at cameras

trends as “J-Hope’s Shadow.” 

Hobi’s search history: “How to parent a tiny soldier.”

Hobi’s Concerns

“Did I… smother him with too much joy?” “What if he thinks I’m embarrassed of him?”

buys parenting books titled “Quiet Kids, Loud Love” and “Raising Rebels Without Rainbows.” 

dog-ears pages on “validation without pressure”

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Hobi surprises Min-Jae with a speech to him during“Hope on Stage.” 

Min-Jae storms out mid-show

texts: “Stop trying to make me you.” 

Hobi finds him hours later

punching a rugby tackle bag until his knuckles bleed

Argument

Min-Jae: “You’re embarrassing. Always smiling, always on. I’m not your backup dancer!” Hobi: “I just want you to feel what I feel... alive!” Min-Jae: “I am alive! Just… not your way!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

Hobi cancels a photoshoot

takes Min-Jae camping

no music

no mirrors

just a tent and a first-aid kit (Min-Jae’s request)

they don’t speak but hate it too much after a few hours

Breaking Point

Hobi finds Min-Jae’s sketchbook

pages of rugby jerseys with hidden Hope Wolrd flair

inclusing neon stitching (“Hope” in morse code)

Conversation

Hobi:“You… like my stuff?” Min-Jae:“It’s functional. The neon helps visibility.”

a lie

they both know it

Hobi: “Can I… design your next jersey?” Min-Jae: “Only if it’s subtle.”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Hobi learns rugby rules

cheers from the sidelines in a custom jersey

black with glow-in-the-dark constellations

Min-Jae scores a try

he nods at him

= their version of a hug

Min-Jae agrees to one dance practice with BTS

Hobi teaches him to “two-step like you’re tackling a beat” 

it’s awkward

they all cringe but laigh

Hobi keeps the video

Growth

Hobi

releases a merch line for “Quiet Warriors”

hoodies with hidden symbols/sequins...

Min-Jae wears his daily - “For visibility”

Min-Jae

leaves a sticky note on Hobi’s mirror

“You’re annoying. But… your smile’s kinda cool.”

JIMIN - Affectionate Nurturer

reserved rebel & love that finds its own language

CHILD DESCRIPTION:

Name: Ji-Eun (she/her) Age: 11 Personality:

stoic

analytical introvert

prefers logic over emotion

she’s a chess prodigy who solves advanced math puzzles for fun

keeps a “Feelings Spreadsheet” to track her moods

spoiler: 87% labeled “neutral”

dislikes physical touch, crowds, and “unnecessary noise"

wears noise-canceling headphones everywhere

answers questions in monosyllables

secretly writes dry, sarcastic fanfiction about historical figures

Secretly Like Jimin

performs random acts of kindness

=fixing a classmate’s broken pencil case

claims it’s “just efficiency”

whispers song lyrics under her breath when stressed

“Promise” is her go-to

hates attention

tho blushes when Jimin calls her “my genius”

LIFE & CONFLICT

Clash of Love Languages

Jimin’s Approach:

morning hugs

surprise gifts (sparkly stationery, plushies)

daily “How Do You Feel?” check-ins.

Ji-Eun’s Reaction:

shrugs off hugs

donates plushies to charity

answers check-ins with: “Functioning at 73% capacity.”

Jimin’s Concerns

“Does she even like me?” 

texts Taehyung at 2 a.m.: “What if I’m too much?”

buys a parenting book titled “Raising Robots?”

highlights the chapter “Emotional Encryption”

panics when she requests a “logical birthday”

= no cake, no singing

just a spreadsheet of gift options

Public vs. Private

at BTS family events, Ji-Eun hides in closets

avoiding "Jimin’s affectionate friends"

“Uncle Tae tried to high-five me. Why.” 

Jimin laughs nervously

“He’s… practicing.”

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Jimin surprises Ji-Eun with a front-row ticket to her favourite artists concert

imagining a heartwarming father-daughter moment

she spends the entire show in the bathroom

calculating Pi to calm her anxiety

Argument

Jimin: “I just wanted you to see… how much I love you, our time...” Ji-Eun: “You love attention. I don’t. Stop forcing me to be like you.” Jimin: “I’m not...! I just… want to share my world with you.” Ji-Eun: “Your world is loud.”

"BRIDGE"

Catalyst

Ji-Eun’s homeroom teacher emails Jimin after noticing her "unique learning style"

= her chess mastery, aversion to group activities, meticulous spreadsheets tracking classroom noise levels...

suggests an evaluation

framing it gently

“She’s brilliant, but I think she experiences the world differently. This might help her thrive.”

Jimin’s Reaction

panics

calls Namjoon

“Did I miss something? Is she… unhappy?”

researches autism until 4 a.m.

scribbling notes

“Sensory overload… routines… literal thinking.” 

realizes her headphones, spreadsheets, and “tolerable hugs” weren’t defiance

= they were survival tools

books an appointment with a neurodiversity-affirming psychologist

hands trembling as he fills out forms

Diagnosis Journey

Ji-Eun’s Assessment:

dismantles the psychologist’s Rubik’s Cube in 30 seconds

“Patterns are easy. People aren’t.” 

psychologist smiles

“You’re right. Let’s talk about your patterns.”

Jimin’s Guilt: 

overheard in the waiting room

“What if I pushed her to be ‘normal’? What if she thinks I’m disappointed?”

Conversation

Ji-Eun processes the diagnosis like a puzzle solved

Ji-Eun: “So my brain has a different operating system. That explains the… glitches.” Jimin: “You’re not glitched, baby. The world just… buffers sometimes.” Ji-Eun: “Can we upgrade the software? Like, mute unnecessary sounds?” Jimin: “We’ll write the code together.”

AFTERMATH

Understanding & Adaptations

Sensory Safe Space

Jimin soundproofs her bedroom

fills it with weighted blankets and dimmable LED stars

Ji-Eun labels it “Efficiency Zone 1.0.”

Communication Tools

they create a color-coded system

Red Light: “No touch, no talk.”

Yellow Light: “I can listen, but my eyes need a break.”

Green Light: “You have 3.5 minutes to discuss feelings.”

Jimin’s Growth

learins to replace “Why won’t you hug me?” with “How can I help?”

texts the group chat

“Turns out, love isn’t loud. It’s… listening.” 

Yoongi replies: “Took you long enough...”

Ji-Eun’s Growth

writes a school presentation: “Autism: A User Manual.” 

includes a slide titled “Why My Dad Cries a Lot (But It’s Okay).”

lets Jimin teach her a dance move - once

“Your form is 62% adequate.” 

he sobs into her hair

TAEHYUNG - Whimsical Artist

silent observer & love painted in shadows and light

CHILD DESCRIPTION

Name: Ji-Hoon (he/him) Age: 10 Personality: 

quiet

observant boy who shrinks from crowds

hides under oversized sweaters

hates cameras, loud noises, especially flashlights

harsh beams make him feel "like a bug under glass"

prefers sketching in the margins of notebooks to speaking

capturing the world in delicate pencil strokes

secretly adores astronomy

refuses to visit planetariums

“Too many people staring at the sky instead of their feet”

Secretly Like Taehyung

inherits his dad’s eye for beauty

expresses it in whispers

= pressed flowers in textbooks, origami stars hidden in drawers

creates intricate charcoal portraits of strangers

then tears them up (fearing attention)

humms Tae’s songs under his breath when he thinks no one’s listening

LIFE & CONFLICT

Public vs. Private

at home: 

Tae fills the house with art supplies, jazz records, impromptu photo shoots...

Ji-Hoon retreats to his “fort”

= a blanket-covered desk with fairy lights

Tae pokes his head in daily

“Let’s paint the walls rainbow!” 

Ji-Hoon grimaces

“...Pass.”

in public:

Tae’s Instagram is a lately a kaleidoscope of fashion and fans

Ji-Hoon wears noise-canceling headphones and a hat pulled low

trends once as “V’s Mystery Shadow” after photographs snap him glaring at a flashlight

Tae’s caption: “My little eclipse 🌑✨”

Taehyung’s Concerns

“Am I smothering him? Or not seeing him enough?”

buys every “introvert parenting” book

scribbles notes like “Quiet ≠ Broken” in the margins

tries bonding through art

Ji-Hoon’s sketches stay locked in a tin box labeled “DO NOT OPEN.”

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Tae surprises Ji-Hoon with a “father-son gallery showcase”

showcasing his secret sketches

room floods with flashlights and fans

Ji-Hoon freezes

he bolts, knocking over a display of his own art

Argument

Ji-Hoon: “You ruined it! My art is mine... not your content!” Tae: “I just wanted the world to see how amazing you are!” Ji-Hoon: “I don’t want the world! I just want you!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

Tae cancels all schedules

takes Ji-Hoon to a secluded cabin in the woods

no electricity

no cameras

just the Milky Way sprawling overhead and a telescope

Breaking Point

Ji-Hoon finds Tae’s old sketchbook in the cabin

pages of younger Tae’s anxieties

“What if they only love the idea of me?”

Conversation

Ji-Hoon: “You… felt invisible too?” Tae: “Every day. Still do, sometimes.” Ji-Hoon: “Then why do you shine so much?” Tae: “Because shadows need light to exist. Like us.”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Tae builds Ji-Hoon a private studio in the attic

no flashlights, no visitors

Ji-Hoon hangs a sign: “Appa Allowed (Sometimes)”

Ji-Hoon lets Tae display one piece

= a charcoal sketch of their cabin under the stars

Tae’s caption: “Our Universe 🌌 (Shared with permission)”

Growth

Taehyung

starts a midnight astronomy ritual with Ji-Hoon

pointing out constellations with a laser pen

“See that one? Looks like your sneaker.” 

Ji-Hoon snorts

“That’s Orion, Appa.”

Ji-Hoon

gives Tae a folded origami star with a note

“You’re my favorite galaxy.” 

Tae wears it as a necklace until it falls off

JUNGKOOK - Golden Retriever Dad

quiet contemplation & love that finds common ground

CHILD DESCRIPTION

Name: Min-Jun (he/him) Age: 10 Personality

thoughtful

introverted bookworm

prefers the quiet corners of libraries to soccer fields

deeply sensitive

a knack for poetry, fear of crowds

carries a sketchbook everywhere

filling it with delicate drawings of clouds, insects, imaginary worlds...

Min-Jun shrinks from Jungkooks spotlight

finding solace in solitude

“Why run when you can sit and wonder?” 

mutters when his dad suggests a going out

Secretly Like Jungkook

inherits his dad’s stubborn determination

channels it into mastering origami or memorizing constellations

has a hidden competitive streak

beats Jungkook at chess every time but never gloats

loves music but prefers composing haunting piano melodies over pop anthems

LIFE & CONFLICT

Clash of Worlds

at home

Jungkook’s gym is littered with Min-Jun’s origami cranes and half-finished puzzles

“Appa, your dumbbells are crushing my art!” 

sighs, rescuing paper dragons

Jungkook responds by doing bicep curls with the dragon on top

“See? Functional art!”

in public

Jungkook’s attempts to share his world end in disaster

= like bringing Min-Jun on stage during a concert encore

Min-Jun freezes under the lights

dropping his sketchbook

fans coo over “JK’s shy angel” 

Min-Jun cries himself to sleep

“I’m not a prop”

writes in his journal

Jungkook’s Concerns

“What if I’m failing him? What if he thinks I’m embarrassed he’s not… like me?”

buys parenting guides like “Raising Sensitive Souls” and “Quiet Kids, Loud Hearts” 

dog-earing pages about “validation”

secretly envious of Taehyung’s artsy bond with his own kid

“Hyung, how do you… talk about feelings?”

"THE SNAP"

Incident

Jungkook signs Min-Jun up for a father-son boxing class

hoping to “build confidence” 

Min-Jun spends the session crouched in a corner

sketching the other kids’ shoes

when Jungkook jokingly calls him “my little turtle” Min-Jun snaps

Argument

Min-Jun: “Stop trying to fix me! I’m not broken!” Jungkook: “I just want you to be strong!” Min-Jun: “I am strong! You just don’t see it!”

"BRIDGE"

Retreat

Jungkook cancels a photoshoot

takes Min-Jun camping in the mountains

no cameras

no crowds

they don’t speak for the first night

Breaking Point

Jungkook finds Min-Jun’s sketchbook open to a page titled “Things I Wish Appa Knew” 

drawings include a tearful boy trapped in a shadow labeled “EXPECTATIONS”

giant hand (Jungkook’s tattoos visible) gently holding a origami heart

Conversation

Jungkook: “You… think I don’t see you?”  Min-Jun: “You see your version of me.” Jungkook: “Show me yours. Please.”

AFTERMATH

Compromise

Jungkook converts a corner of his studio into Min-Jun’s “Art Cave” 

stocked with watercolors, “No Dumbbells Allowed” sign...

Min-Jun agrees to play piano with Jungkook

Jungkook’s first composition?

= clumsy but heartfelt tune titled “Min-Jun’s Clouds”

Growth

Jungkook

late-night Live rambling about “invisible strengths” 

fans spot Min-Jun’s origami dragons/cranes on his shelf

“My kid’s the real superhero”

murmurs grinning

Min-Jun

secretly submits a poem to a contest

wins

title: “My Dad, the Quiet Warrior.” 

Jungkook frames it next to his awards

[eris-snow]

6. 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞?

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, swearing, toaster shenanigans, bakusquad shenanigans

A yellow thread like a soulmate’s cord: So similar, but so different.

Katsuki hates people.

It doesn’t matter if he appreciates a small small small minority of them, he’s fully obligated to bring his thoughts to the grave because Mina and Denki had broken the toaster for the hundredth time, Kirishima’s way too positive for someone going for therapy and Izuku breathes too hard.

“Why do I have to buy the stupid toaster?” He lashes, sweat building dangerously in his hands. “I did nothing!”

“We haven’t hung out properly in a long while, man! Think of it as a…a get-together!” Eijiro told him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

He’s testing his luck.

Ashido marches ahead of the both of them while playing thumb war with Denki. “And plus-hey!-you went feral when we got the previous previous toaster—Mina, stop it!” Denki chimes in, wrestling with Ashido.

“Who buys a VHS Player toaster? HOW DID YOU EVEN FIND A VHS PLAYER FOR A FUCKING TOASTER.”

“Mhm, uh-huh, yeah, yes, you see?” Ashido responds calmly. “This is why you’re needed.”

Behind them, Eijiro frowns. “I thought that was the 5th toaster, not the—”

“Finish that sentence,” He grits out. “I dare you.”

So yeah, borderline, Katsuki hates people.

He especially hates them when they start asking questions.

“You’ve been a ghost lately, disappearing right after class. What’s going on with you?” Eijiro changes the subject, and looks at him with curious red eyes.

Real, fuckin’ annoying questions.

Katsuki’s brain goes uhhh, and he shrugs off the red-haired’s shoulder to buy time.

“None of your business. If I’m busy, I’m busy. Deal with it.”

His friend gives him an inquisitive look, but Denki’s groan of defeat snaps both of them out of it, and Eijiro backs off. “Whatever you say, man.”

There’s an old street piano that lives right outside the mall. Katsuki’s surprised it’s still there, even after the plaza was stripped bare and renovated, the instrument sat there, creaking and lonely. What a contrast to the shiny, modern building it sat so innocently next to.

Out of nowhere, a splitting headache rips into his skull, and he has to grab the nearest thing (Eijiro) to keep himself from toppling. What the hell?

All he can see is that goddamn piano, multiplying and filling his vision. It flashes, disappears, and then reappears like it’s trying to decide whether it should be there or not. Someone calls his name, but it’s far away. Suddenly, he’s 7 again, showing off to all his admirers how wide his fingers could reach, how beautifully he could play the instrument.

All eyes are on him, and he feels like he’s a third person watching his younger self smile, shift aside to let someone else join him on the seat—

“Bakugou?”

A blink, two blinks, and the image is wiped.

“Bakugou?” Eijiro’s hand is on his shoulder and all eyes are on him. It takes him a second to realise that he’s gripping Eijiro’s arm, and another to unclench his hand. He leans away, and grits out low. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar,” Denki refutes, expression worried. “You okay, Bakubro?”

“Headache,” He supplies, gaze cutting back to the piano. It’s still sitting there harmlessly, like it hadn’t given him an existential crisis 5 seconds ago. He filters through his memories, frowning when he grasps at straws. He can’t remember ever playing a duet with someone.

Stalking ahead, he shoots a scowl at the inanimate object and enters the mall. “I wanna be in and out. Let’s go.”

He knows his friends’ expressions. They’re all concerned, because for some reason, Katsuki’s word isn’t good enough for them.

Whatever, it’s not like he hasn’t had lapses like that before.

A store full of green catches Katsuki’s eyes, and suddenly, all he can see is ferns and flowers stuffing the entrance of the little shop greeting the visitors of the mall.

They come back to the dorms with a new, normal toaster, and Katsuki gets a desk cactus.

—

Katsuki’s going deaf. He knows the drill yadda yadda, he’ll be deaf by 35 yadda yadda his quirk is an ass and so is he. However, he prides himself in knowing his eyesight is perfect and better than average. So he really, really hates it when they try to fuck shit up for him by making him see things that aren’t there.

His jacket hanging on the edge of the couch when he was visiting his parents over winter break. (It’s in an old storage unit his parents rented out since he can’t fit it anymore)

A cherry blossom tree siting right outside his old middle school. (It’s in the dead of the winter.)

Random street pianos, showing up at every turn.

And every time he shakes his head and blinks, the objects disappear. He doesn’t even want to get started with his dreams. Scenes from the war have been ending abruptly, cutting off and throwing him into moments of his life he never knew he lived through.

It’s been all he can even think about lately, and his zone-out sessions have earned him a slap to the head by his mother and daily check-ups via text from the shit broccoli nerd and Shitty Hair. He thinks about it, because it’s the same feeling when he hangs out with you. Your presence is so difficult to detect sometimes, he has to steels himself from blasting your face off because he didn’t notice you sitting right in front of him.

He has an internship with Jeanist and 10 articles to write for Hero History. He cannot afford to go crazy now.

—

“Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s eyes open. He spins around and finds a memory, ripped straight out from his life. It’s like watching a scene directly out of a play. His old, junior high classroom, with its rusted cabinets and creaky seats.

His younger self stops, and looks back, obviously annoyed. “What do you want, extra? Who the fuck are you?”

A girl stands there with her face blurred and clipped out, but for some reason, he knows her expression is one of shock and disbelief.

“Katsuki, don’t you remember me?”

Bakugou jolts awake. The sound of someone’s voice he can’t quite hear the words off ring in his mind, and he clenches his shirt as his heart pounds so loud it feels like it’s echoing throughout the entire room. Sweat is everywhere, clinging to his skin like a layer of dust, and a glance at his alarm clock shows 02:31. He lets out a loud groan, glaring at his empty ceiling. He’s definitely not going to sleep anytime soon. With sweat clinging to every part of his body, he swings his legs off and heads to the door. He needs a shower.

And coffee.

—

“Weird dreams? Seeing items not there?” Recovery Girl looks at him thoughtfully. “And you’re positive it’s not a Quirk?”

“That’s what I said,” Katsuki replied through gritted teeth. He’d have known if it was a Quirk. Even some Quirks weren’t touch-based, it was hard to be put under a quirk undetected. This was something else. “If it’s not doing you any physical harm, then my Quirk can’t help you with that. The best prescription I can give you is neuroleptic medications and sedatives for a good night's sleep. Other than that, try to take your mind off training for a while and take the rest of the day off. I suspect that you’re overworked.”

With Recovery Girl’s advice in mind, Katsuki comes out of the infirmary feeling less sane than he originally felt. Overworked? As if. The most eventful thing he experienced this month was him buying a fucking toaster.

With a heavy grunt, he opens the library door and ignores the hall just down the corridor. You’re probably on vacation, or visiting relatives. No point in going there.

If he’s barred from training the rest of today, then he could kill time by learning something new. If he wants to be a top hero, he’s got to be able to communicate. That means in both Japanese and English. If he can read more English books, he’d surely be more fluent in—

He stops short. In front of him, is a yellow thread. It curves and winds and leads him all the way to the back of the library, slung over seats and tables of the nearly isolated room. He’s heard about cringy soulmate manga from Mina, the one where the pinkies of two individuals are connected by a red string. This one, however, is yellow, and looks way thinner, like a spider’s skein.

Yellow.

That was your favourite colour.

Intrigued, he follows it all the way, and when he stops to see what’s at the end of it, he finds an essay shelved in the wrong way buried behind the dusty books that haven’t been borrowed in a long, long time. He almost misses it, but when he does find it, he takes it off the shelf and eyes the title wearily.

Phenomenon: Reset

It’s clearly not a published book, it’s bonded by stapler bullets and it’s written on the old U.A. foolscap that was outdated years ago. It’s more like a log then a book, a diary, even. Katsuki slaps himself mentally. What the fuck is he doing? Playing detective for his delusions? This could be a prank for all he knows, and the yellow skein his eyes playing tricks on him. This was—

‘Not a Quirk, causes people to become nearly invisible to the eye.’

Katsuki blinks rapidly.

Hah?

‘Day 3: I tried to talk to him the other day. It’s like we never met. He asked me if I was a new transfer student. I’ve been in his class for over a year.’

‘Day 4: He forgot our conversation the previous day. The teacher missed my name during attendance and called my parents up today. What’s going on?’

Katsuki skims through the rest of the days, and with each passing page, the handwriting gets more and more illegible.

‘Day 7: I feel like a ghost. My parents still remember me, thank goodness. I don’t know if I could handle it if they didn’t.’

‘Day 16: If this is some sick joke, I hope it ends already. What the hell? It’s like it’s a reset for me every single day. Every time I try to tell someone about it the person straight up forgets me the next day. This isn’t funny anymore.’

‘Day 70: He sees me! I don’t know how this worked but he sees me! I tried probing for more, but I can’t believe it! I’m so glad…it’s been so long since someone looked at me in the eye.”

‘Day 71: He remembers! Honestly, I don’t care that everyone else isn’t noticing me anymore, just having one person is enough.”

‘Day 121: I told him about my situation, and thankfully he believed me. He said he had a feeling about it, something about a watch and the stupid tree in the forest we used to sleep under. He said it kept popping up everywhere and it was driving him crazy.’

‘Day 235: I found an article that’d tried to be covered up. One of the government’s mistakes, back when Quirks were new. It had something to do with a science experiment gone wrong. It might be a lead.’

It goes on and on, from red hairs to dead ends, but through it, Katsuki got a gist of the situation. A science experiment from 70 years ago was conducted to see if a Quirk could be transferred forcibly from one person to another. That Quirk was named Undetected, one of the less destructive Quirks of that time and among the few who agreed to proceed with this experiment.

It might be possible in the modern day, but humans back then were far too uneducated to be dealing with Quirks that were still relatively new. The experiment went wrong, obviously, and it resulted in a glitch of the person’s Quirk and the region the experiment was being carried out in. Victims ended up forgotten with a presence so low that they were basically invisible. Back when this article was still new, there had been questions raised about it, whether these Quirks were more of a curse than a blessing, but with time this phenomenon ‘faded out of existence’.

No one could prove it, and the victims were chalked up to accidents or lunatics. Not many were affected anyway, and almost as quickly as the rumour made headlines, it disappeared entirely from the internet.

Katsuki’s blood runs cold.

Is this what was going on with you?

He leafs through the paper and skips to the last day that was catalogued.

‘Day 435: He said that I looked really pale, and told me that he’d found a way to save me. I was really glad, I was really. I only wish that we could have done it before it was too late.’

Katsuki flips the page over to find nothing else written and almost crumples the paper up in frustration.

He needs to see you. Now.

[deathdaydreamm]

POV you’re a cis dude at the club hitting on me and I start talking about implications of suicidal existentialism in the children’s movie The Brave Little Toaster and 60 seconds in it dawns on you that there’s something deeply wrong with me and you’re still gonna try to get my number and fuck me anyways

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: John Smith. Sure, he's a bit eccentric. He can't resist keeping his friend Donna up at three in the morning with existential questions about the universe and toasters. He's prone to arguing with history professors about 'what really happened,' and what is up with his fashion sense? But he's a normal, human person. A completely normal, one hundred percent human person. But then again, statistics lie, everything is relative, and when John wakes up with the ability to see Time itself and the terrible feeling that the alien beat of two hearts in his chest where he once had one is somehow familiar, he finds it's worth revisiting his definition of 'normal.'

Author: @timeisweird

[pukefactory]

Hi! I don’t know if you got my request last time.

If not that’s fine!!

I would like to request, 🎵, but like, what she’d do with a reader who wears headphones all the time?

Probably confusing. Sorry! ❤️❤️

It becomes a point of obsession for her, not that she’d admit it in the clinical sense. Not in the “My dear, why are you avoiding me?” kind of way. No, ENA spirals dramatically and silently through mental monologues, pacing the hallways of your shared casino lodging, clawed fingers twitching in mid-air like she’s grasping an invisible, maddening symphony that only she seems to hear.

The headphones. The ever-present headphones.

Day in. Day out. Cradled over your ears like two bulbous barriers that keep her voice—her genius, her charisma, her spontaneous poetic yelling—out. You say it’s for comfort, to “help regulate.” ENA tries to understand this, she really does, but the yellow side is having an existential emergency.

“WHY must you wrap your skull in a WALL OF SILENCE?! AM I BORING?! AM I DULL?! Is my voice not enough for your FLIMSY HUMAN EMOTIONAL CIRCUITS?!”

Meanie yells this at a cactus once. Not you. She respects your space. …Mostly.

Salesperson tries to rationalise, diplomatically pulling you aside one morning while holding an absurdly long clipboard she conjured from her pocket like a magician at war with bureaucracy.

“Say, sunshine, I do hope you’re not allergic to conversation? Because I’ve been trying to ping you about a meeting scheduled in our shared kitchen—concerning your breakfast and my longing.”

You lift your headphones halfway. “What?”

“You heard me. Meeting adjourned. Thank you for your valuable contribution to intimacy,” she says with a wink and a mock-curtsey.

She doesn’t hate the headphones. Not really. She even compliments them, offhandedly. Sometimes she tries to guess what you’re listening to.

“Mozart, perhaps? The whispered incantations of a dying clown? Oh—wait wait wait, don’t tell me! Is it the sound of a dog choking on its own ambition?”

You tell her it’s rain sounds. Or sometimes lo-fi. Or silence. That last one really sends her spiralling.

ENA clutches her chest like she’s been shot by a cartoon gun.

“You’re listening to nothing?! You’ve replaced me with ambient void?!”

Meanie suddenly starts yelling at the toaster.

“WE’RE LIVING A LIE, CRUMBS! CRUMBS AND STATIC!!!”

Eventually, she takes it upon herself to become more… audiocentric. She develops a presentation. You come home one day to find a portable speaker duct-taped to the wall and a sign that reads:

“AUDIO FILES FOR INTIMATE INJECTION: CLICK HERE FOR LOVE.”

She’s recorded herself saying various things: “Good morning,” “You are important to me,” “Why are you avoiding me, I haven’t even exploded today,” “Have you heard of our business plan, darling? It involves YOU and a legally binding emotional merger,” and most bafflingly, “Stop wearing those goddamn earmuffs and kiss me before I file a complaint with your heart.”

You laugh. It’s the first time she sees you laugh that freely in days.

After that, you make a compromise: one earphone on, one off. And when you really need both on, you hold her hand. It’s not a perfect solution, but ENA accepts it with the flourish of a two-faced court jester learning boundaries.

“Fair enough. As long as I’m still part of the playlist. Even if only in the liner notes.”

She later slips a sticker on your headphones:

“Certified Business Partner of the Heart.”

She doesn’t ask for anything else. Well… except maybe a duet. Or a dance. Or just a moment where you press the cups of your headphones to her ears so she can hear what you hear and say, with a shudder:

“Oh… Oh. Is this what calm sounds like?”

She grows quiet. And then: “GØD, it’s boring.”

But she smiles. And you both keep listening.

[conclaveyaoi]

Is this Aldo Bellini?

Hello, we’re calling to inform you that your niece Cecilia has been arrested again. She threw a toaster at her boyfriends head and claims it was self-defense

(Cecilia is my OC and I love her. It was infact self Defence)

hello, this used to be the headquarters of aldo's campaign, now it's his office but we're still doing the "coconut tree" summer aldo hq thing just so me and my boss (cardinal sabbadin) are still employed and pretending we have a campaign to run otherwise we'll have an existential crisis.

good lord, a toaster? was there bread in it? wait, no, that's not the priority. my boss (cardinal sabbadin) has told me about cecilia, yes. we are aware. [whispers] let's make sure to keep it behind the scenes, we don't want the press finding a link to cardinal bellini, ok.

I'll tell my boss to tell his candidate this has happened so he'll be in touch with her. we know a few lawyers who are available for some pro bono

for now the reasons for cecilia's arrest are all very hush hush, it's an alleged toaster am I right and worst case scenario they both reached for the toaster. good for her, we stand for survivors of dv here at aldo hq.

(hahaha I see, I like the name, it makes me think of the simon & garfunkel song)

[dreamwritesimagines]

okay, hear me out.

If sunshine gets blasted and she absorbs the powers, she'll need help adjusting and it will so ansty and fluffy at the same time.

First the powers would be too much, and sunshine will drop unconscious, queue the X-Men just raining hellfire on the enemies with Theo in the forefront but held down by Logan. If this happens later in the story, when theo has control over his powers, he'll blast them off and come back to tend to his mama. Then a heavy waiting time in the medical room, where they are examining sunshine and are relieved as well as astonished to see her condition.

When she wakes up she is disoriented and obviously fretting after theo and Logan., who in turn are mother Henning her. During this commotion, maybe she lets out a blast and everyone is left speeches. Sunshine panics, Logan/theo reach out, but she's so afraid and out of control that she blasts again and goes unconscious again. They discover her powers and then comes the angsty part where she tries to adjust to her new life. She starts living in the mansion, is wary of going near anyone, scared of harming them, especially theo. Has existential crisis cause her species of existence has changed. And I mean- A LOT OF ANGST .

But of course theo helps and Logan too. And even cyclops ;⁠)

Now for the fluffy part. Logan realises that since sunshine is not fully in control of her powers, she lets out little blasts or zaps of electricity on every little thing. So he loves to startle her. He'll quietly grab her from behind and kiss her neck, making her fuse the toaster she was touching. He'll give her the bedroom eyes when she's arranging the flowers in the case, and she'll accidentally break the case with a blast.

S- Stop looking at me like that!

L- Like what, sunshine?

S- Like- like that..! Like I'm your prey.

Logan, slowly making his way to you, like a predator- oh but I love to fluster you. And whispering into your ear - and you are my prey

AAAHHH gentle and pleasurable electric shocks and then kissy kissy and maybe queue in smut🙈

Okay I should stop. Bye!

HONEEEEEY AAAAAAAH THIS IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA! 🥰❤️

Oh it would definitely be both angsty and fluffy at the same time! ❤️ Like, can you imagine Logan's panic when he saw her get hit by that blast?! He would be unstoppable and kill whoever attacked her 😱

I feel like she would be so confused because all her life she never had to deal with anything like that 😱 And she would go into her shell, convinced that she was dangerous and I feel like the moment Logan went into her room, she would be like,

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why not? Can't I see my girlfriend?"

"Logan, no- it's not the same, you know that. I'm dangerous."

"No you're not."

"I am, I could kill you-"

"Good luck with that, everyone who tried failed."

"Logan."

"What? You're not going to kill me sweetheart."

Omg the fluffy part, the fluffy partttt! ❤️

He'll quietly grab her from behind and kiss her neck, making her fuse the toaster she was touching. He'll give her the bedroom eyes when she's arranging the flowers in the case, and she'll accidentally break the case with a blast. I AM GIGGLING, THIS IS ADORABLE❤️

Logan, slowly making his way to you, like a predator- oh but I love to fluster you. And whispering into your ear - and you are my prey CUE TO ME MELTING-

Sunshine would stare at him and go like,

"So you don't mind it?"

"Don't mind what?"

"The...um, the electricity thing, when I lose control."

"I don't know if you've missed it somehow, but making you go out of control is my favorite thing to do."

"No but it's different!"

"It really isn't."

"...Then you don't mind it?"

"I like it."

[bengiyo]

The Miracle of Teddy Bear Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

So, @lurkingshan and @twig-tea say this is good enough that Shan was willing to cash in 9 hours of her coupons to make sure I watch it. Let's see if this show has a very good bear.

I still have trauma from Memory in the Letter. That show also featured rare stellar phenomena as the inciting incident.

The bear is the narrator and is named Tofu.

This dog's reaction is totally reasonable.

Whoa Inn Sarin looks different.

"This is the story of a boy...and a bear..."

What in The Brave Little Toaster (1987) is going on??

"You're beautiful. It's a shame you're a thief." Mr. Security Guard, it's not that kind of video.

Potential car violence in episode 1? It's a Thai drama!

Oh, exposition in the action sequence: Nut is a screenwriter.

Ah yes, he was indeed struck by a vehicle. Let's pull out the Thai statistics again.

I have so many questions about the bear's ability to feel dizzy.

Why does The Little Prince pop up so often??

The furniture is talking again, and they experience lust.

I like meeting all of these characters under stressful conditions like this. It reveals a lot about their characters. We know the best friend is protective of Nut, and feels like some kind of manager. This girl maybe has an unrequited crush. Mom is being helpful but weird.

We got payoff from the furniture lust already. Tofu taking off Nut's clothes when he's drunk doesn't read sexual; neither does their waking up together. It's okay for Nut to recognize his good taste in Tofu, and is a nice soft launch about him being gay, and apparently expecting someone named Neung to be there.

I see we have some kind of dad trauma, and Nut and his mom don't get along much.

Damn, the slippers took mom out to help keep Tofu around. Real ones.

Baby's first existential crisis: will I be abandoned by those I love?

I'm very excited about the curious neighbors.

Okay, I like Nut's actors. He's got good control of his expressions.

She has her husband to help her? Um, ma'am?

Hey, it's kinda sad that Nut's tears seem to be what awakens each item. There's a lot of characters in this room.

Well, taking care of the house is going well...

Tofu and Khunchai got real beef. I love it.

I was wondering when he'd notice his he'd was missing

Suddenly: Tee Thanapon.

Does Tofu not know his own backstory?

I'm interested in the age gap potential of the side pair.

I know Tofu better tell Nut who he is in this episode with how long it is.

Oh shit is Tofu connected to someone else who's in some sort of coma? Is it Neung, who possibly gifted Nut Tofu in the first place?

Wait, who is Tarn, and is he the one who was getting defibrillated?

Interesting. So Tofu resembles a senior named Neung.

Wow, excellent work by Job in this flashback. He doesn't look as irritable and stressed, and he has a great infatuated face.

I believe the toy council is going to solve this mystery.

I understand Nut. The feeling of a man who cares about you laying next to you is comforting. He's totally right to kick Tofu out, though.

Okay, there was a lot that happened in this episode, but I actually think this was a really good opening episode of a drama. I have a strong sense of the entire cast so far, and we have some interesting mysteries to unpack. We have the question of Tofu's transformation, his connection to the man in the hospital, the mom claiming the dad is around, why Tofu looks like Neung, who is Tarn, and why do only some items in the house gain sentience? I'm intrigued.