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woulddieforperrytheplatypus · 3 years

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I've been rewatching all the Loki content to get ready for the new show and I have thought of A Phineas and Ferb AU™ for your viewing pleasure (and if anyone wants to turn any part of this into an actual fanfic I would owe you my life)

this post was brought to you in partnership with @dumbausfromdanville

You know how the first Thor movie ends with Loki yeeting himself off the Bifrost and falling to earth? What if, instead of going after the Tesseract, he falls straight to the Tri-State area?

Jane, Darcy, and Selvig all seemed to be on vacation, right? So Thor presumably took place during the summer — say, perhaps, ending on June 3? So he falls right onto Phineas and Ferb's rollercoaster just before it goes down that ♫ three-mile drop straight down ♪. He has no idea wtf is happening so it's not like he gets the chance to sit down and put on a seatbelt, so he's stuck holding on for dear life for the entire rollercoaster ride which Phineas and Ferb find weird but they're not really concerned bc they're chill lil dudes and tbh this isn't too far off a normal day for them.

Phineas and Loki strike up a none-too-pleasant conversation (not that Phineas notices Loki's bad mood; he's too Him to realize not everyone is rainbows and sunshine all day, every day), and our favorite lil disoriented demigod has to figure out where the fuck he is now ("You there. What realm is this?" "Danville 🙂" "Wut da fuk?") and what the fuck he's supposed to do now that he's here.

Phineas ends up inviting him to hang out for the afternoon, and Loki is about to turn him down but then he smells the pie. He's never had doonkleberry pie before so obviously he has to try it. Then, when Loki's no longer hangry, they can hold an actual conversation. It's lowkey more Loki wallowing in his own self-pity than anything else, but Ferb recognizes Asgard when Loki mentions it so he and Phineas piece together that he's a god pretty quickly.

More importantly, though, they figure out that he's completely alone, and because Loki never mentions trying to, you know, murder his brother and lowkey overthrow the monarchy, they just kinda assume Loki's family sucks (Ferb is completely prepared to start the anti-Thor club but Phineas stops him because he doesn't want his brother to get struck by lightning) and adopt him (without his consent, but it's not like he has anywhere else to be -- and he did like that pie).

Loki has no desire to build anything with the boys He thinks the idea of a backyard beach they make the next morning is stupid — even more stupid than a regular beach, and that's saying something. But over time, he gets more involved -- not just with the boys, but with the entire family. He helps the boys build their inventions. He talks about human history with Lawrence and corrects much of his knowledge on mythology. He lets Linda teach him how to bake seriously, her pies are so good. He even suffers through Candace's mall trips as long as he gets to go to that fro-yo place on the second floor (though he draws the line at any conversation involving romance).

He's still a little skeptical of the platypus (and he feels like the platypus is a little skeptical of him, too) but Phineas insists that he's "just a platypus" and he "doesn't do much." Loki doesn't realize that Perry's keeping an eye on him for OWCA, nor does he know that Monogram has absolutely no idea what to make of the dude so he hasn't actually told any of his superiors about him. As far as the government is concerned, after the fiasco in New Mexico, Loki just disappeared.

This makes it fucking hilarious when the boys accidentally steal the superheroes' powers in Mission: Marvel and the superheroes show up at the Flynn-Fletchers' front door only to see fucking Loki. Loki just shuts the door in their faces without a word because what the fuck?, but eventually Phineas and Ferb go check the door and they agree to help the heroes (much to Loki's chagrin), which, of course, isn't complete with Candace fangirling over them (also much to Loki's chagrin; she never fangirled over him). At first the Avengers are fully convinced that Loki is responsible for stealing their powers, and Loki never actually denies it because he's a little shit but Phineas, Ferb, and their friends are very insistent that Loki didn't do anything (except a little bit of manual labor putting together the satellites because they're 10 and he's a whole-ass demigod).

At some point, Thor and Loki have a very heated discussion about the events of Thor, and it's pretty much all news to the Flynn-Fletchers and their friends. They're not really sure what to make of it so they basically glue their mouths shut and watch it all play out. I'd like to think it goes something like it does in The Avengers and that a) Thor is pissed because what the fuck have you been up to Loki you fucking dumbass, b) Thor has been in mourning since Loki yeeted himself into the abyss and he wants to make sure the guy knows it, and c) Loki does not take it seriously at all he's being antagonistic the entire time because he is so sick of Mr. High-And-Mighty's shit. In the end, Loki storms out of the SHEDquarters and Phineas doesn't even think to try to stop him until he's halfway out the door and it's too late.

He shows up again when Phineas, Ferb, and the Avengers try to fight the bad guys in the mall with the wrong powers and he basically singlehandedly saves their asses until superhero Perry shows up. As everyone's favorite shapeshifter, he has absolutely no problem figuring out that this beaver duck dude is the Flynn-Fletchers' platypus. He has no idea what to do with that information, but it sure is information that he now has apparently. (At this point, poor Loki has a very warped sense of what earth is supposed to be like lmao).

Phineas tries to get Loki to come back with them after superhero Perry grabs them and carries them home. Instead, Loki cuts himself loose and falls like 30 feet straight down (and tbh after falling from the Bifrost, that's nothing to him) and peaces the fuck out.

Loki ends up accidentally bonding with Candace and Isabella over feeling useless and unwanted (and he absolutely gets his own verse in Only Trying to Help because it's what he deserves), but unlike the two girls who are hell-bent on changing that, Loki is content wallowing in his own self-pity. He's tried this whole "being important" thing before and he ended up in self-exile for it. He's not putting himself through it again because he really doesn't expect it to end well. But then the powerless heroes decide to face the villains again, and with Candace and Isabella in space and Perry nowhere to be seen, he realizes it is once again up to him to keep the tri-state area safe (which he knows is a stupid priority but he's gotten kind of attached to these stupid little humans and he wants to keep them safe).

Then the heroes get their powers back and they join Loki (and Perry and the mysterious waffle gun in the sky) and beat the shit out of the villains. Thor and Loki work together in the heat of the battle which serves as a Great Bonding Moment™, and once the villains are gone, they have a nice lil heart-to-heart where they both apologize for their past. Thor remarks that Loki seems to have grown a lot over the last couple of months and tries to bring Loki home with him, but Loki refuses. He'll never be welcome back into Asgard, no matter what Thor may say.

But he is welcome with the Flynn-Fletchers, who are completely over the fact that he tried to ruin Thor's life and take his not-so-rightful place on the throne (except Candace who's very skeptical about having him back but it's not like Linda will believe her if she tries to tell her what Thor and Loki talked about so her opinion is unfortunately as irrelevant as it usually is on the show).

And early the next morning, before anyone else is awake, Perry gets an alert that he's needed in his headquarters (presumably to talk to or about Fury). He quietly sneaks off, only to find Loki waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him. They have a very nice "conversation" (not that Perry speaks) about the superhero Ducky Momo they saw the day before, and Loki assures him that his secret is safe, thus starting a much-needed bromance between Loki and Perry because it's what my babies, goddammit!

Anyways yeah if anyone wants to write a fanfic about Loki hanging out with Phineas and Ferb during his self-exile I would give you a socially distant high-five because I want to read it but I have too many other fanfics on my plate to start this one for at least a few months. It doesn't have to follow this prompt literally at all (I swear I wasn't trying to get this in-depth with it but this is what I do apparently) or it can follow this prompt exactly idc i just want a PnF/Loki fanfic 🥺

#marvel #mcu #loki #phineas and ferb #pnf #fanfic idea?#mission: marvel #mission marvel

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bubmyg · 6 years

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just another day - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: lovers to...lovers?, non idol!au, fluff, like tooth rotting, aching, falling out of your head fluff, im so sorry ajfklsaf

word count: 3,521

a/n: part 7 of to lovers and a follow up to the piece i posted last year on valentine’s day which means it’s been a year since i started posting bts writing!! it’s been a fun time and here’s to many more fun times :-) if you’re looking for the piece in question, it’s just titled “valentine’s day” and it’s listed under the “blurbs” section of my masterlist but it does not have to be read to understand this piece (although i do reference it a fair few times)!! also, the rest of to lovers is linked on my masterlist :’-)

Yoongi wrinkled his nose at the ridiculously large, heart shaped balloons clinging to a standee chalkboard all while adjusting the, ridiculously, large bouquet of flowers in his arms. His swift steps over cracked sidewalks paused as he considered the balloons for a moment, then the soft petaled tips of pastels digging into the crook of his elbow.

Someone’s bag brushed against the unbuttoned sides of Yoongi’s jacket as they tried to maneuver around his stature planted in the middle of the walkway. He panicked, phone call halfway in progress as he fumbled the device and the flowers all to shove a hand into the depths of his pocket.

His panicked pats around balled gloves and a crinkled receipt stalled when your voice hushed from his phone dangling between the press of his knuckles on his index and middle fingers. It was coincidence that his thumb traced the outline of the object in question, still safe and tied in the thickest part of his glove as he instead traded his attention for jamming his phone against his ear.

You were rambling a mixture of his name and quiet are you okay’s and what are you doing’s when Yoongi’s rushed mumble cut you off.

“How do you feel about balloons?”

Your voice cut off entirely and you were silent as Yoongi shifted his weight, back and forth, until you were giggling quietly into the receiver.

“Look, mister anti-capitalist, you better not come home with the entire Valentine’s Day section of CVS for me.”

A fond smile fought at his lips directly as he made eye contact with a woman trying to enter the cafe. She smiled back nonetheless, eyebrow quirking slightly as he muttered an excuse me under his breath and sidestepped closer to the building.

“Glad to see you’re finally on my side…”

Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek. “...so no balloons?”

“No balloons.”

“Fine.”

He huffed, setting his sights on your apartment building in the distance once more, flowers and no balloons in tow. There was a dull ambiance on the line, mindless shuffling of whatever mundane actions you were completing around the house. It was a few chunks of sidewalk later when Yoongi was teasing softly, “Also, who said I was buying anything for you?”

You hummed, unaffected by Yoongi’s sudden words in your ear, taking his teasing in stride, “Years of experience.”

It was four years ago when he’d, wide eyed and with clammy palmed, fought a middle aged man with a loose tie and a sweaty neck for the last bouquet of flowers in the shop once filled with the very thing. He’d barely remembered it was Valentine’s Day, only truly remembering when Hoseok had leaned over his desk in their eleven o’clock marketing class and blatantly spoken through the professor’s lecture.

“So, what’d you get your lady?”

Yoongi had briefly thought he’d forgotten your birthday and then remembered no, I can’t have and then thought we’ve only been dating for five months, that’s a forgivable offense, right? No, it’s not idiot all in the span of three rapid blinks and the time it took for an outraged expression to fit Hoseok’s features.

“Why would I have—”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, dumbass.”

He barely flinched at Hoseok’s empty accusations and suddenly the box of chocolates and tipped vase of roses abandoned outside his neighbor’s door in his apartment complex made sense.

“So?,” Yoongi scribbled half a bullet point onto his notebook before the powerpoint shifted slides, “Capitalist holiday.”

Hoseok groaned so loud that their professor paused and glared. “Calm down, you can really buy her flowers or something. It won’t hurt your quest to burn the system to the ground.”

Your sweet smile when he’d brought you coffee to the library flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked and the tenderness of the kiss you’d pressed to his lips tingled on his mouth.

“It’s still dumb…” He mumbled back.

“Yoongi. Buy her flowers.”

Maybe it was the stress of spending the entirety of the cash in his wallet or having the evade the angry chatter of a stressed businessman into his bluetooth headset for a bouquet four times the size of what he planned to buy but it happened nonetheless.

He told you he loved you that night, unintentionally and on the phone two seconds before he was going to knock on your apartment door after calling you to tell you he was coming to see you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ask the life sized bear I found you asleep on last weekend while you were supposed to be helping me remake the bed.”

It was three years ago when he’d dragged a brown bear nearly as tall as him out of the grocery store, downsizing the flower bouquet to a single white rose with a pretty red ribbon tied around it. He’d nearly crushed the petals underneath under the toe of his boot when he dropped the flower in the parking lot in an attempt to open the trunk of his car. He’d tossed the flower to the passenger seat instead before completing the remorseful task of smashing the bear’s smiling face into the desolate corner of his trunk.

Yoongi felt guilty the entire week, particularly when he pried the oversized plush toy from his car and had to stare at it’s frumpled muzzle and ears until it was safely squashed in your delighted arms. It was still slightly lopsided in your embrace and seemed to accuse him for it, stitched eyes following his track around your shoulder to envelop your waist.

“It hates me,” He told you a week later when you’d finally dragged it out of the living room to your bedroom, placing it in the tiny chair that occupied the far corner.

You passed his figure with your keys in hand, placing a hand on his forearms crossed tightly over his chest as he considered the giant stuffed animal with thinned eyes. He didn’t flinch, even when your lips touched his cheek.

“I would too if you shoved me in a trunk for a week.”

The tautness in Yoongi’s shoulders melted then, turning to you with wide, innocent eyes. His trilled whine followed your figure out into the hallway, lips pink and pouted and exaggerated.

“Angel! You’re not supposed to side with the bear!”

He’d decided it no longer hated him just a week ago, the bear having traveled from your apartment to your shared apartment where it had it’s own special spot.

I refuse to stuff him in a closet and you frowned at Yoongi for even suggesting it.

You’d pelted a fresh out of the dryer blanket at him and ordered him to fold it while you redid the sheets on the mattress. The bear’s muzzle wasn’t quite as lopsided and it’s eyes seemed to invite him to lay down on it (even if it knew he was you taking an extra shift away from a stint in the closet), particularly with the warmth of the blanket you’d just provided him with wrapped around his shoulders.

The picture you snapped had spent intervals as your lock screen, no matter how many times Yoongi changed it while you were asleep on his chest.

“It doesn’t hate me anymore,” Yoongi defended miserably and he could feel the heat scratch at the back of his neck underneath his scarf.

“Don’t worry, my tooth has forgiven you, too.”

It was two years ago when he’d ditched flowers all together for something edible, a bouquet of fruit and chocolate paired with a bottle of wine jostling in his grasp as he took the stairs of your building two at a time. The grocery store had been as busy as he’d expected it to be and his irritation with high schoolers clutching their mom’s credit cards and frazzled nine to five fathers growing by the second.

He wanted to be more annoyed than he was but then realized remorsefully that he was apart of the cycle, no matter if he tried to justify the gift in his arms as a tasty snack for after dinner, something he had planned to buy you after the holiday on discount and just happened to be passing through, something he would have had sent to your office in July.

Yoongi was no different than the man tapping his foot loudly behind him in line, his bluetooth headset dangling off his right ear as he crumbled a cheap set of dying roses in a meaty hand and Yoongi nearly panicked that the man had came back to haunt him for stealing a much larger set of vegetation years prior.

But none of that mattered, not the money he forked into that gathered by products designed specifically for the worst day of the year and not the near forty-five minutes he spent under sickly white lights with melting fruit in his arms. None of it mattered when you draped your legs around his waist and plucked a piece of the chocolate in the pinch of your fingers to brush it over his mouth.

Half of your bottom lip was hidden in your teeth, eyes gleaming as they glazed over the treat touching his skin to the bemused, half lidded laze of his stare.

“Open up.”

You spent the entire evening feeding each other cubes of fruit and balls of chocolate in between languid kisses that tasted of the sweets on your tongue. You woke up the next morning with a satisfied tingle encompassing your entire being, only to leave a dentist appointment the week after with a similar numbness in the core of your molars on your bottom jaw.

“You did not get a cavity because of that,” Yoongi told you, pressing a gentle kiss to your swollen cheek while handing you your bowl of instant mashed potatoes.

“I did and it’s your fault,” You muffled back, tongue clinging to the last bit of numbness on that side of your mouth.

He just sighed, long fingers brushing yours aside to take the spoon and jab a mouthful of the creamy substance against the seam of your lips, “Alright, love. All my fault. No more chocolate. Now, c’mon. Eat.”

“Still wasn’t my fault.”

The noise you made was uninterested, “What about my earrings? I have those in today, by the way.”

It was a year ago when he’d forced Namjoon to a jewelry store in the mall, his tall friend full body panicking when Yoongi hesitated at the engagement rings.

“Yeah?” Namjoon said simply as if he hadn’t just stared at the back of Yoongi’s head like he’d grown a third hand from the nape of his neck.

Yoongi hummed from above the earrings, acknowledging the employee who flanked him from beyond the counter with a gentle smile. He glanced at Namjoon from the corner of his eye, chin shaking curtly.

“Not this year.”

You’d cried when he placed the tiny box in your lap, his thumbs preoccupied with trying to collect each droplet that rolled down the contour of your nose while you gaped openly at the tiny karat’s pinched through cardboard.

Through blubbered tears generated from the overwhelming love engulfing you from Yoongi’s entire being, you accused, “These, this, is against like everything I’ve ever heard you say about this dumb holiday.”

“Doesn’t count,” He told you, brushing your hair behind your ear to frame his lips over it, “I didn’t buy these today.”

You just laughed and met Yoongi’s gaze with watery eyes, gripping the jewelry tighter in your grasp as you leaned in for a chaste kiss.

“I would have taken another cavity, you know. Or another, hopefully smaller, bear friend. Or flowers…” You kissed him again, speaking against the smile that bobbled on his lips, “Or just you.”

His fingers framed yours, prying the earrings out of your grasp to begin plucking the jewelry from their carefully positioned placements.

“Want me to put them in for you, pretty girl?”

“Good, they were expensive.”

“There he is,” You murmured fondly, “The realistic boyfriend I know and love.”

“They were expensive but—” Yoongi paused, checking over his shoulder at the traffic before taking long strides through the crosswalk, petals of blue and yellow and pink and purple fanning out behind him from the breeze, “—you’re always worth it. I would have just given them to you for Christmas, anyway. Or your birthday. Or international donut day.”

He wasn’t lying. He’d given you a birthstone necklace on Christmas, a journal filled with poetic professions on your birthday, a delivery of two dozen roses to your office on a day that was probably national sausage and mushroom pizza day in some part of the world.

His heart squeezed at your heartfelt laughter directed unabashedly toward his terrible attempt at humor.

“Didn’t know we bought gifts for international donut day that weren’t donuts.”

“You know I love you, right?” His fingers twisted for his pocket again, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear as a diving index finger make contact with the buried object once more. His steps picked up when he located it, shifting everything back to a normal grasp in his juggling limbs.

Your laughter subsided with the background noise and he could picture you, hip against the kitchen counter, arm wrapped around your middle, abandoning the half washed dishes or the half cooked dinner or your half typed email for work the following day.

“Yes.”

Yoongi squinted at the tower of your building over his head, the structure appearing far too quickly for his liking, the very specific smell of the lobby puking all his worries back up from their tightly balled location in the pit of his stomach. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire, his throat dry, hands numb where he crushed the stems and, accidentally, the volume button on his phone.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He corrected, swallowing in time with the elevator clicking over from where he’d nudged the button with his hip. “I’m not sure you do because it’s so much that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to properly express it to you. I don’t even know how much I love you. I can’t count that high.”

You were giggling again, softer this time, “Well if you don’t know, how am I supposed to know?”

He couldn’t even be bothered by the bitter taste of one of the flowers that swiped across his mouth when he shifted them in his grasp, the unabashed stretch of his smile giddy and genuine and permanent. His heart swelled like the creation of a balloon and he was half convinced the hammering organ sounding off in uneven beats had grown to the same size as the balloon he’d nearly tied around his wrist for you like a child at their first carnival.

“This just gives me an excuse to spoil you, so you don’t hide my credit card again,” Yoongi didn’t register he’d stepped into the elevator until it was stopping on the second floor to pick up another resident. His legs were numb underneath him, knee caps twitching as he pressed his shoulder blades into the wall and hushed into the receiver, “I love you all the time, not just—”

“—February fucking fourteenth,” You finished, “Yeah, a wise man once told me that just a few years ago.”

The other occupant of the elevator, a man drenched in sweat and carrying a towel, cast him a sideways glance as he stepped out on the fourth floor, amusement on the cock of his eyebrows as he disappeared around the closing doors. Yoongi took that opportunity to reveal the smile he’d been trying to suppress, jamming his index finger into the button of your floor again.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, the wise man said that too,” You mused, “You’re the wise man.”

“I’ll remember you said that.”

“Hush, are you ever going to come home?”

Yoongi stepped off the elevator, numbly albeit, “Almost there—”

“—because I’m almost positive you’re blushing and I’m not with you to kiss it away. Or make it worse, depending on how you’re feeling.”

He acknowledged the heat encompassing his entire being as partial embarrassment rather than anticipation, noticing the cool press of the glass screen of his phone against his cheek with irritated realization.

“I am not,” He denied anyway.

“Seriously, are you on your way home? I want my not gift that you definitely didn’t buy me.”

Yoongi’s cheeks hurt by the time he was centered in front of your door, the crushing, assuring wheeze of his heart that repeatedly told him you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re stupidly in love! almost outweighing the fear that rested just at the forefront of his conscious.

“Yes, just a second...” He jammed the flowers underneath his arm, fishing properly for the small velvet box resting within his knit glove.

The weight of the ring seemed to match that seizing at the stuttered beats in his heart as he knelt to the carpet floor. His phone slipped, barely, as he sought out the flowers, balancing the spread carefully on the edge of his knee so that the palette of sunshine hues covered the cradle of his free palm and the threatening dam of adoration spilling out of every, gleaming inch of his smile.

“Actually, I forgot my key,” Yoongi couldn’t care less if the waver in his tone gave something away, more focused on not dropping the ring, choking on a leaf, puking, and passing out all in the same instance. “I’m outside. Can you come open the door for me?”

He gathered that you must have been in the threshold with the speed in which the door opened but even though he was consciously aware that it was seconds between his request and you completing it, it felt like it took you hours to find him crouched on the floor in front of your apartment door.

“For someone who hates this day, you sure pick out the prettiest flowers,” You were giggling. The softness of your fingertips brushed against his, coaxing his ironclad grip off the stems. “Why are you on the floor? Did you drop—”

He held the ring with both hands now, cradling it on the end of his knee, cheeks tinted the prettiest of pinks, eyes wide and curious in the way his eyebrows framed them.

Everything Yoongi had ever etched to the journal he’d gifted you for your birthday or mumbled against your temple in the earliest hours of the morning evaded him in that moment, the speech that had obsessively trained the roll of his tongue, all that he loved and adored about you blanking. Instead, he laughed, tentative and easy.

“Hi, angel, how was your day?” Yoongi’s phone fell to the floor as he tilted his head the opposite direction, the shyest expanse of his teeth peeking out from his lips, “Oh, yeah, and will you, uh, marry me?

The flowers, already ruined from the flexing crush of his hands and arms and entire nervous being, were cast aside in favor of you dropping to his level, bringing your hands to cup his jaw.

“You’re serious?” Your forehead pressed against his, wet tears already streaking your cheeks, “You’re asking today?”

“Just another day to love you,” Yoongi croaked, the nerves invading his vocal cords now too.

“This is really against everything I’ve ever heard you say about this holiday.”

“Doesn’t count,” He reiterated, argued, one hand leaving the ring to wrap around your hip, “I didn’t buy it today. Nor did I get the idea to ask today.”

You kissed him to silence any further excuses for him indulging fully in the day of pastel pink hearts and the ultimate consumer mindset, sliding your hands around his shoulders as you fit between the part of his singular, bent knee.

He tapped your side with the box in hand, “So, is that a yes?”

“Depends,” You grinned, “Who are the flowers for?”

Yoongi whined. He whined, pursed lips and eyes that wandered over your head and curt but flailing movements of his head and shoulders and hands, voice trilling upward an octave on the end of the last set of syllables.

“Do you want to marry me or not?”

“Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t heard your neighbor open her door until she was standing in the hallway, confusion tangled somewhere in amusement at the sight before her.

The jewelry missed your ring finger, flopping onto your middle finger instead as Yoongi pocketed the tiny box and hauled you up with him by two arms curled around your waist. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, subtly nudging at your feet to move you into the apartment.

“Everything is great,” He told her, dimples pressing into his cheeks, “Sorry for the trouble.”

She disappeared like Yoongi’s flushed features did into the crook of your neck, lips pressing repeatedly into the same spot on the juncture of your shoulder as he moved you backward and shut the door softly behind your figures.

“Yes, Yoongi,” You murmured, “I want nothing more than to marry you.”

#min yoongi #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #yoongi fluff #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #unedited!! as always!!!!!!#another series done ajkdsfjlafd #ok look i think this is cute and im sorry abt how gross jafksjafkljsaklfjdl

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imaginesandideas · 5 years

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Hii so I saw you were taking requests so I thought of requesting something it crossed my mind the other day, can you please do a Ben x Reader where the Reader is also a actress/singer and they date but Ben was away because of work so they haven't seen each other in like 2 months, so when the reader starts to get very close to her best friend/co-star he starts to get insecure because of what gwil or joe once told him about "The ones who doesn't make themself present aren't needed" ? Thank you!

I’m so so so so so sorry for coming with this only now, but I hope it’s worth the wait! ❣️🙌

I changed the request a bit, but the main idea remains.

Missing you

you two meet during some audition

it went bad, oh so bad

you were still relatively new to this business, so your stress wasn’t helpful either

you were paired for a improvised scene and the thought itself had you biting your bottom lip in attempt to calm your nerves

the man was breathtaking to look at, not to mention that he seemed just as stressed as you

that is, until he looked at you

his attitude mellowed and soon you two chatted loosely, forgetting about your audition completely

by the time you were supposed to start your line, you were totally messed up by Ben’s 3rd or 4th petty joke

“Hey, hey. You know how can you tell when a plane is full of actors?”

you try to stifle another wave of giggles as your mind already imagines the answer

“Uhm, no?”

“When the engine stops but the whining continues.”

Ben can’t help but laugh as you snort, hiding behind the script in your hands

it’s at that moment that he knows that no matter how much you two are about to ruin this audition, he has to get your number

and then ask on a date

and several other dates

and then ask you to move in with him after few more months as you lay tangled in duvets one day

many auditions later, you’ve gotten used to having to race constantly between sets

many times you ended up going straight from the airport to Ben’s set, just to see him before you’d have to return for additional shots

he’d do the same thing for you

if one of you doesn’t not have any upcoming projects, you’d join the other on set

you two would spend every spare moment talking plans, practicing lines, cuddling, making out

making up for all of the lost time

sometimes you’d join Ben on occasional hangouts with his co-stars, some of them quickly becoming your friends too

when you met Joe you two clicked momentarily

it was easy since you shared similar sense of humour

Ben loves watching your interactions and reading the inside jokes you’d exchange every minute

after all you and Joe are his favourite people on the whole world

“Alright, maybe I’ll just leave you guys since I’m clearly not needed here?”

“Oh Benny. Jealous cause I get along with your girl better than you do?”

“Yeah but guess who’s taking her home smartass.”

“I can be very convincing, right _____?”

“Oh I don’t know Ben, America seems nice...“

“That’s it, we’re going home!”

over time it became harder for you to see each other for longer than just a few weeks

there were times where you’d barely exchange few hurried kisses before you had to be off to some party, despite just coming back from long weeks of shooting

he wasn’t mad, not a bit

all of all the people you knew, both your family and friends, he’s the only one who actually understands the scenario your life revolves around

it’s only on lazy days, when he’s not making a film, or when he’s finally alone in his trailer when it dawns to him how much he misses you

he misses how your eyes lit up when you’re telling him about your day

or how you laugh when he’s telling you about his own

so when one time he’s back home from filming much sooner than you, he’s missing you more than ever

daily calling and FaceTiming don’t help much, because you haven’t been around each other for two months now

“Baby I miss you so fucking much.”

“Ben, baby... You know I’d be there in a heartbeat if I could.” you can hear him exhale on the other end. Rubbing his thigh, he continues.

“Y’know... I could always fly myself up there.”

“Honey...”

“I’d be useful! I could rub your shoulders? I bet you’re bloody tense after all those reshoots.” you sigh into the phone, because he has a point, again “And then, I could edge you off some more...”

“Christ, Ben! Don’t get me all flustered when I need to be back in front of the camera in 3 minutes.” you hear him chuckle and smile creeps on your own face too.

“Love you.”

“And I love you too blondie.”

over weeks you stopped calling as often, only texted him from time to time

but he knows it’s not your wish but the circumstances obligating you to set your work first

luckily Joe had a visit planned out, so you know Ben is in good hands

you realise how good ones, after you check your notifications the next day, and find loads of sweet declarations of love

but like, in every app you two have accounts on

and they’re all full of misspellings, but your heart immediately melts

you also get some videos

but it’s mainly Joe recording as Ben is doing a semi-coherent monologue about how much he misses you, or generally Joe and Ben singing some serenades

most likely Love Of My Life or Somebody To Love

you’re having fun with your co-stars too, often ending the day with a drink or two at a nearby bar

you realize something’s off because Ben’s messages are more distant

even when you talk on FaceTime he seems more tense

you’re just hoping it’ll change once you’re back home in his arms

but when you see him, he seems upset by something you can’t quite put into words

of course he’s all smiles when he holds you at the airport, covering your entire face with loving kisses and holding you so tight against him as if you could disappear any second

he says it’s the stress, but deep down you know it’s more complicated than that

you don’t continue the conversation and wrap the day up with Italian takeaway on the couch as you show him pictures from the set and sightseeings

mouth filled with pasta, you explain every photo, especially if there’s a fun story behind it

but he’s not remarkably invested in the slideshow

his eyes almost always dart to you and how corners of your lips ride up at the hilarity of clips

it’s the next morning that he finally lets it all out

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking pathetic.”

He nearly breathes it and it takes your sleepy head a moment to catch what he meant. You frown and turn around to face him. The warmth of your bodies tangled in sheets makes it incredibly hard to start such conversations so early.

“What do you mean Ben? I never said-“

“_____ I know, it’s just... you’re out there, having fun, making friends. And I’m not there. And I feel left out, which is fucking silly because you could say the same thing when I’m gone but-“

You place a finger on his plump, trembling lips.

“Are you seriously jealous?”

He lets out a sigh, eyes locked with yours, though he’s desperately trying to avoid you seeing through him. But it’s too late and you’re already placing a hand on his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Ben I love you. Why would you feel like there’s a reason for you to be jealous?”

His gaze lingers lower, to your neck and he’s trying to own up to the thoughts he’s been having. His fingers are gentle, unsure even, as if the bond you’ve built has suddenly became fragile like glass.

„I saw the pictures with that guy you’ve posted while Joe was still here, and I thought that you don’t need me. Cause I’m always away, and when I’m not there’s always something else going on anyway, and ugh... ‘The ones who doesn't make themself present aren't needed’ and all that shit.”

“Who told you that?” he’s rubbing his neck now, a nervous habit of his.

“Uhm, J-Joe?”

“Oh come on! He’s such a dumbass for making you think like this! Oh my god, I’m gonna call him right now!”

At an instant you’re pulling off the sheets to reach for the phone on your nightstand, but he’s quick to catch you by your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Oh fuck Joe, it’s not about him. I just...” he sighs again.

“He’s making you think that I’d dump you for people I barely met.” You look into his baby-blues again, sure to drown in their depth any second. He’s clearly apologetic but you can still see the glimpse of insecurity in his gaze. You place a gentle kiss on his lips. “That’s just fucking stupid. I love you like crazy Ben, and there’s no other person I’d rather spend my time with.”

You let your fingers trace over his exposed collarbone and up to his jaw. “Sometimes I hang out with others of course, but that won’t change anything between us. Cause we’re stuck together. I want to be stuck with you till my bones grow old.” you exclaim sweetly enough to make his whole expression soften. You leave a trail of kisses on his cheeks, jawline, one on the nose and forehead.

“Marry me.” you abruptly stop.

“W-what?”

“Marry me _____. Not now, not tomorrow, but let me love you forever” a kiss “and ever” another one “and ever.” You breathe out and return the kiss, only intensifying it, almost losing yourself in his warmth.

You pull away, vision a but blurry and lips pink and swollen. His entire face is glowing, redness taking over his features. You can feel how his heart sped up, just in time with yours.

“Only if I can return the favour.” you cuddle into his side and he wraps you in his arms and kisses the top of your head.

“Any day doll, any day.”

“But I’m gonna kick Joe’s american ass anyway!”

“No doubt about that.”

~~~~~

Ooof, that went further than I planned , but I regret nothing

Comments, ideas and words of notice are always appreciated 💜

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #full fic #asks #request

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this-lioness · 5 years

Text

Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done. This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up. Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious. So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side. I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for. I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary. And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet. And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over? I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON. Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards. Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on! And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up. His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday. I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house! And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me. I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks? Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t 2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1. You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. 2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair. The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory. And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit! I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store! Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE. Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone. I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch. It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT. Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1. Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2. Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3. Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4. Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5. Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6. Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it. That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.) The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7. Clean the floors (vacuum and mop). This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done. Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware. We have talked about this. He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE! I love my house and I love taking care of it. I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine! I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome. Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

#oc #ugh

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transvladking · 6 years

Note

(1/5) Hello, this is the 4/2 anon from before! Thank you for your response!! I see what you mean about how Monoma really shouldn’t know the depth of how bad Bakugo feels about the shebang and how a different approach would have worked as well. But I don’t think Horikoshi-sensei is insinuating that Monoma knows how bad Bakugo felt… (disclaimer: this is separate from the previous stuff. Viz changed my impression of the scene)

(2/5) I think the phrasing MAY be just a translation thing on MS’s part (see Viz’s as an alternative, though I don’t know what they translated Bakugo’s line as or what the original lines were); when I read it I felt it was a style choice (the cadence or something gave me a “kakkoi” feeling). Also, I think the media and populace both view All Might’s last fight as his fall since he retired afterwards, so it could be the phrasing isn’t that rare?

(3/5) And further, looking closer at Viz’s translation—it seems that rather than fishing for a response, Monoma is buying time and furthering his statement from before (class that stands out in all the worst ways). It follows logically that Monoma would bring up Bakugo and All Might’s downfall. Bakugo stood out in a bad way, got caught, etc. So rather than saying sth abt how Bakugo feels, he could just be saying that the troublemaker finally got punished rather than lauded? Or sth.

(4/5) Poking at the poor control Deku has is a cool idea actually! I woulda liked to see that haha. Re: his quirk, yeah, we’re super up in the air. Honestly I’d love it if any contact worked and I really hope Deku’s OFA development doesn’t cut Monoma’s screentime to show what the team came up with/stuff. I saw one post about Monoma being a living stem cell and thought that was such a cool way to put it; would love to hear about your hcs!

(5/5) I did see somewhere that Horikoshi-s said he intended to do more w Monoma but didn’t cuz of negative reception, and that he felt he was weak-willed when the manga had just started gaining popularity, but I can’t find any direct sources for either… (Horikoshi pls don’t shaft the kid anymore thank) This ended up longer than I expected srry!! I wanted to say sth about the “targeting the exact person” thing but I will save it. Thanks once again!!

I love you coming into my inbox its been so long since people have actually discussed this with me omg

I definitely think he’s buying time, but I also think he’s trying to get Midoriya to talk. And for sure, he was leading up to that comment with his talk about blessed people ruining the world (which, i love as an insight to his character) but the line, at best, feels clunky.

In his ‘intro panel’ in that chapter, he’s holding 3 pocketwatches. Now, we know Monoma uses them to track his quirk, so we can insinuate he’s got three copied at the moment.

1) Reiko’s

2)?

3)?

So it’s entirely possible he’s using Shinsou’s, which Midoriya is taking into account. And I think he’s saying Bakugou SHOULD be punished, that he should feel bad, because everything Class A does brings trouble to the school, and I suppose, All Might.

I think Deku’s OFA thing is a way to avoid showing us what happens if Monoma copies his quirk. I really do. Horikoshi likely won’t show it, imo. But if he does, I will be pleasantly surprised! But I think what’ll happen is this:

1) teachers do their fucking jobs for once and stop the match

2) no one can decide which team officially wins blah blah

3) they go their separate ways with all might talking to deku abt ofa

4) Class B goes back to never doing anything at all because god forbid the spotlight not be on midoriya and/or bakugou for 10 minutes

I think the comment you’re talking about in regards to Horikoshi is on Monoma’s char page, where he didn’t want monoma to be so hated? He just meant him as that one kid who doesnt shut his dumbass self up ever, but feels like he boned the whole thing up 8 ways to sunday, but that “There’s a reason he’s not the class president, he just spouts off”

re: quirk headcanons

the stem cell thing may have been me or someone else bc thats what i talk about A LOT in regards to his quirk

What I personally believe is that Monoma produces. a LOT of stem cells, as well as a special kind of cell, which I will call the REV cell (because i consider it a reverse virus, of sorts)

When he absorbs DNA through his skin (and possibly other methods, like how Toga drinks blood?), the REV cell picks up the line of ‘code’ dealing with the quirk and injects it into Monoma’s stem cells, causing them to differentiate into the needed components to make the quirk Work. After the quirk dna runs out, the stem cell undifferentiates and he drops the quirk. Hence, the time limit.

We know from one of the light novels he can pick up dna from clothes (he uses aizawa’s quirk after handling his clothes in the laundry room), so I think my DNA theory has some weight to it itr

The reason he can’t use two quirks at one time? DNA overload. His cells just aren’t equipped to splice together genetic material, so the cells become overloaded, cannot function, and die off in mass amounts. And, as we all know, cell necrosis…not good. So, if he tried to force them to use more than one, he might lose something in the process.

I also like to think that his palms/fingertips have miniature barbs, like a cat tongue, to help better pick up DNA. sandpaper man. But that’s just me lol

#monoma neito #polite anon #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #all might #toshinori yagi #shinsou hitoshi #reiko yanagi #spoilers

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lululululipop-blog · 6 years

Text

Ch. 1

Sweet Like Candy...?

Hmmm... first two chapters are done. I honestly had to do all the revision, and editing myself, so it took way longer than expected. But please enjoy and keep a lookout for new stories I’ll try to post faster. Haha

Just a Little Something~ 🌸

“She’s not talking to me,” blond hair and red eyes was what trademarked the hot tempered male that spoke.

His friend, Kirishima, saw that he was looking away towards the end of the lunchroom, admiring the small girl who would look back occasionally to give a grim look, only to turn away once more as if making a point.

Kirishima took some of his mate’s food, stuffing it in his mouth; his friend didn’t even pay much mind to it. He simply waved him off which showed immediately how much this ordeal was bothering him.

“Yo, Kacchan, what’d you do? She’s not usually like this,” Kirishima spoke through mouthfuls of Bakugou’s food.

Bakugou growled at his words, “Damn it if I know! I’ve been thinking since this fucking morning and nothing has come up that would be considered out of the ordinary! All I know, is we were fighting that random villain out in the streets, then she decided to stop talking to me! Didn’t even bother to visit me in the hospital, dumbass.”

Kirishima hummed in understanding, “Girls are confusing.”

Bakugou nodded at this, “No shit. And she’s making it rather obvious that she’s angry as well. That idiot.” His statement seemed gentler than his usual tone, showcasing how truly he was worrying about her.

Kirishima found this admirable, so he offered his own advice, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

Bakugou turned as if he had just been electroshocked by Kirishima’s sole words, “Huh? You’ve got to be kidding me. If she wants to solve whatever is going on, she’ll come up and talk to me first! I’m not going out of my way to talk over something when she’s the one angry about it.”

He took his water bottle and drank it quickly, extinguishing the flames that were starting to grow even stronger inside him. Water could only do so much, however.

Kirishima seemed to be taking a liking to playing around with Bakugou’s food, and he began building a large tower out of the sauce packets Bakugou had brought, “Then... how about you try acting sweet for a while?”

Bakugou seemed confused at this. How would one act sweet? Sweet was something quite out of his Kacchan-dictionary that consisted of specifically vulgar language with the addition of a few superhero terms and the occasional, “Stupid” and “idiot” added in. “Don’t look down on me,” would be the summary in the back of his dictionary.

Kirishima shrugged, “Nothing is gonna get solved if neither of you do something. Instead of talking it out, perhaps you could try different things until she’s happy again.”

Bakugou didn’t like the idea of that, “Why do I have to be the one to make the first move?”

“Hm, would you rather admit that you’d give in to her if she was the one who spoke first?” Kirishima spoke without thinking, but couldn’t take the words back. They were already out there, disintegrating into the very depths of Bakugou’s brain.

Standing up, he took a strong grasp of Kirishima’s shirt and pulled him to meet him face to face, the pile of sauce packets toppling over, “How the hell am I supposed to act sweet?”

Surprised that Bakugou seemed to actually be thinking of taking up the offer, Kirishima nodded, smiling a toothy smile, “Well... first...”

“Delivery for (y/n) (l/n)?!” A mailman called out from the class doorway.

Now, (y/n) wouldn’t be considered unpopular, she had her good number of friends and she was deemed as a promising hero, but she definitely wouldn’t be considered popular enough to have a secret admirer. And, from the large bouquet after bouquet that appeared behind the mailman, arranged with a variety of balloons, clearly someone had it bad for her. Or perhaps she had won a prize, which seemed like the more likely answer even though she hadn’t participated in anything that would call for a reward.

Her friends urged her up, so, hesitantly, she began walking up to the ever so happy mailman, as he handed her the pile of bouquets in a wagon, and a letter. “You’ve got quite the caring boyfriend,” the mailman finished, before moving to the side.

(Y/n) seemed bewildered. What boyfriend could he possibly be talking about? The one she did have would never do anything like this, clearly it was some sort of stalker.

She opened the letter, slightly nervous but trying to bite back the fear from showing on her face. The handwriting was perfectly printed and the scent that engulfed her was that of spicy peppermint; fresh. The only recognizable part of it that could possibly pinpoint the source of the letter, was the signed name at the bottom: Bakugou. She turned her head to the side to ensure that she hadn’t just imagined the name, and rubbed her eyes. Opening them again, she squinted at the paper, almost burning a hole through them with her sharp stare as if somehow the name would suddenly change. Nope, Bakugou’s print was still on there, making fun of her. This must be some sort of prank Kirishima or maybe one of the other guys were playing on her. There was no way—

Interrupting her thoughts, the mailman moved to the side and the balloons made way in the middle of the long school hallway. There, dressed in a delicious suit of crisp black with matching, polished, black shoes and a red undershirt, stood Bakugou, with an assortment of roses and yellow daffodils. (Y/n) covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Although he looked oddly stunning in that suit, it did not at all match his personality. And she didn’t want to attempt at embarrassing him after he did all this, but it was a very non-Bakugou sort of thing to do. He must have been forced by someone to do this. As he strolled up to her, it took all she had to keep back a silly smile while everyone else stared in complete awe of Bakugou’s sudden turnaround. Just as she was about to give up and just laugh out loud, Bakugou came up face to face in an incredibly suave and swift move, taking (y/n)’s waist and dipping her, that (y/n) couldn’t help but gasp out in surprise.

“Good morning,” he stated, handed her the flowers, kissed her cheek and then entered the classroom, not even shoving his way through the crowd of students.

(Y/n) stood with the letter in her left hand, the bouquet of flowers in her right, and a mailman and wagons of balloons behind her, eyes unbearably wide.

“Class is starting,” an unknown classmate whispered to her.

Slowly, so very slowly, (y/n) trudged towards her seat. The hot-headed, hard-to-maintain Bakugou... that was definitely not him.

It must have been a joke, a very odd and bizarre joke that, maybe once the punchline was thrown, she'd be able to understand. But there seemed to be more occuring, all in just the span of a single morning. She was probably going to have to take him to the nurse to make sure he hadn’t been hit by some very clearly powerful quirk.

(y/n) pulled out her notebook and began jotting down every bizarre occurrence that she believed would provide as useful information when asked what she deemed was wrong in her usually temperamental boyfriend. She did well hiding her spying glares towards his spot.

[8:00 a.m.]

A fellow classmate (Kaminari) came up to Bakugou and began making fun of his attire.

"Damn, red? Making some sort of fashion statement, are we?"

Kaminari then proceeded to tap the back of Bakugou’s head with his pointer finger. Bakugou simply continued trying to take notes that (y/n) would later have to ask for. This went on for a few more seconds until Bakugou grabbed the boy's finger, giving him a piercing glare. Perhaps this would finally break Bakugou into at least showing a little bit more of his original self?

"If you have enough time to be commenting on an outfit, perhaps you should have entered a fashion school. You're here to learn how to be a hero, act like it," With that statement, he let go of the boy's finger and returned to writing more notes.

Kaminari looked astonished, but ashamed and went back to his table, grumbling about how even heroes should know how to dress.

Bakugou caught (y/n) staring at this moment, and shot her a cute smile and wave. It was a double hit that would have worked if that were how he always acted, but it simply caused (y/n) to shiver and turn back around.

[8:40 a.m.]

"Everyone, turn to page 64 of your History of Heroes and fighting throughout the world. Raise your hand if you would like to read once you reach the page!”

And just like that, not only had (y/n) missed an entire forty minutes of notes but, now, she had even forgotten her book at home. Which meant she would not be able to go through that lesson that day either. And to make matters worse...

“All right, since no one’s participating how about.... (y/n)? Please read the first paragraph out loud.”

(Y/n) was positive the teacher must have some sort of radar that sensed distraught in her students and was glad to use that to her advantage.

Sadly, (y/n) stood from her chair and apologized, “I’m sorry, but...”

And just like that, a knight in shining flames appeared next to her.

“What she’s trying to say is, that, we haven’t been able to see each other lately, so is it all right if we sit next to each other today?” Bakugou asked, giving the teacher a sad sort of glance.

The teacher shook her head, not really being able to believe that Bakugou was genuinely asking and not screaming that he demands her obedience, “I’m sorry, but, seats are assigned and it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the alumni if you got to switch and they didn’t.”

Surprisingly, the teacher actually looked apologetic. Probably a sucker for romance.

Bakugou peered down, almost as if he was trying to keep from looking sad, “Ah, I see. No, I understand. You are a just and fair teacher after all, I wouldn’t expect less from you. But, you see, we’ve already been unable to see each other outside from school since we’ve been so busy preparing for our own futures that we’ve hardly had time to think of where she and I will be heading... together! I just fear that we’ll grow apart... after all, we’re already told by so many adults that,” Bakugou sighed and held on to (y/n)’s hand, “Romance... doesn’t exist in an adolescent’s heart. Could it end up being true?”

He ended the blow by giving the teacher a forlorn look straight into her eyes. The teacher seemed to be in tears and the whole class was silent.

Finally, she took a large, shaky breath and nodded, “Yes, I understand. I don’t wish for you to end up believing in what they say about you and,” she smiled joyfully at (y/n), “your girlfriend and end up giving up on a past love like me. NO! Please, take a seat next to her. And, what is this, are you sharing a textbook with each other? Ooh! Romance IS alive still! All right kids! Settle down, I think we’re going to do some partner reading instead.”

Of course there were grumbles, but the closet romantics were silently cheering the couple on.

The teacher came up, wrapped her hands around Bakugou’s, and smiled, “Stay strong!” With that, she disappeared to the back of her desk and pulled out her phone. Perhaps to make a call from a long forgotten lover... or something.

For the next twenty minutes, it was a k-drama of Bakugou leaning in so she could smell the sweet scent of cologne (which he’d never used before), and slight blushing coming from (y/n).

Something was definitely not right. She had seen something from Bakugou in the middle of his speech. Everyone else had seen him as proper and a romantic during it, he seemed incredibly sincere. But the real Bakugou would never dare even attempt to utter such sweet sonnets, and she knew this for a fact.

What made it even more clear was the slight twitch of his eyebrow that showed clear frustration. Bakugou was still in there somewhere.

#my hero academia #katsuki bakugou #x reader

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oumakokichi · 8 years

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Can you analyse the post-execution dialogue with Ouma? The one where Ouma called Saihara a dumbass and was into some kind of madness mantra? Would it also be okay if you could analyse the dialogue between Saihara and Ouma during that scene because Ouma became quite distant after that and said that this whole thing became boring after Saihara told me Ouma is all alone? Do you think this somewhat hurt Ouma? I know it was a charade to bring them together, but I do think it affected him a bit.

Of course, anon! That scene is one of the best (and most painful) in the entire game, and understanding Ouma’s motivations and the subtext behind what he’s actually saying is crucial to understanding his behavior in the chapter to come.

I’ll be referencing the full translation of Ouma’s speech in Chapter 4, so please check it out here! A very huge thanks to @basedmoniwa for taking the time to translate all of it!

As with a lot of things that Ouma says, this will require a lot of in-depth analysis and some guesswork to fill in the blanks, but for now consider this my attempt at a sort of “Oumaspeak-to-English” translation. This will get very long.

So we start off just after Gonta’s execution, with the group devastated and Ouma incredibly quiet for a change:

Harukawa:Hey, Ouma… why don’t you talk?What is “the secret of the outside world”?I will not be able to understand unless I know about it,I’m not sure if I can accept it, though.

Shirogane:I-I, also, cannot accept it as it is!Ouma-kun! What’s “the secret of the outside world”!?What is the secret you told Gonta-kun that drove him that far!?

Ouma:………………………………………………

I’ve mentioned it before, but while Maki is asking for genuine purposes, it’s obvious on a reread that Tsumugi is testing the waters here. Gonta is dead and she no longer has to worry about what he either did or didn’t know, and that leaves her the remaining problem of Ouma: she’s obviously fairly certain that he’s on the mastermind’s side, but if he were to reveal a huge secret or crucial information to the rest of the group, he’d become a huge thorn in her side.

I don’t doubt for one second that she would have killed him herself in Chapter 5 had he said anything that indicated he was actually against the mastermind and the killing game.

Being found out by the mastermind is one of Ouma’s primary things to avoid, so of course, when they keep asking him for information, he switches tactics.

Momota:Ouma… If you’re seriously thinking about Gonta,then for his sake, explain all of it to everyone—

Ouma:I don’t want to…

Saihara:…Eh?

Ouma:I said I don’t want to! Dumbass!

We have what I would consider a note of genuine hesitation for a split second, and then he instantly leaps right back into playing the villain. For Gonta’s sake, and for the group’s sake, because after everything he had to do to stay alive in Chapter 4, getting killed without being able to stop the killing game would be literally the worst-case scenario to Ouma’s plans. So he decides to pull out all the stops, and if he’s going to be hated anyway, then he wants to be really, thoroughly despised.

Ouma:Ahahahahahahaha!Did you all seriously believe in such an act!?So stupid!There’s no way I’d cry for someone like Gonta!

Shirogane:I-It was all fake…?

Ouma:Look, if I said the truth there,Gonta most likely would have gotten mad and acted violently.Since it would interfere with the progress of the game if that were to happen,I lied and calmed him down.…Well? There’s a time and place to use lies, right?

His plan of putting the mastermind at ease and making them think his entire display of emotion earlier in the trial was a ruse is clearly working, because Tsumugi seems deeply relieved. If Ouma didn’t actually care about Gonta at all, then she can trust that he’s actually as cruel and chaotic as she thought initially.

This is all nice and fine for the mastermind, but of course the others want a good explanation for Ouma’s words and emotional outbursts earlier. They want to know why he would possibly think it was okay to act like he was sad over his death, only to turn around and act like this the moment the execution is finished. And Ouma has a perfect explanation in place:

Saihara:The truth… Tell us.Why did you do such a thing to Gonta-kun!?

Ouma:Why obviously, because it’s more entertaining in this way!

Saihara:…Eh?

Ouma:I stirred up Gontabecause I thought it would make the game exciting.Let’s think through this carefully, from the very beginning.If I was gonna act “in order to save everyone”,just like Gonta did,there would no reason for me to betray Gonta in the middle of it.Try to comprehend at least this much.

In a reality show clearly meant for entertainment and providing the audience exactly the kind of plot, themes, and characters that they want every single time, Ouma’s awareness of the broadcast (backed up here, as I’ve mentioned in a few other posts) means that he knows he’s an actor and he knows that he stands the best chance of slipping under the mastermind’s radar if he intentionally kicks his own entertainment value all the way up.

It’s things like this that really incline me to believe he was a comedian or a performer in the real world before, because this level of quick-thinking on his feet and knowing how and when to give an audience exactly what they want is such an essential part of his character. He’s extremely aware of the fact that people will like his character on the show better if he plays the role of a character who adds immense conflict and entertainment simultaneously, and it has the added benefit of keeping the other members of the group out of his business and presumably a little more united in their hatred of him.

Saihara:Th-then, for what reason did Gonta—

Ouma:Nishishi… Nishishishishi…I don’t give a damn about such foolish things!Purely, I’m just enjoying this suspicion gamefrom the bottom of my heart!

Despite everything that Ouma has done up until now, Saihara has clearly always tried to pay him some benefit of the doubt. Members like Maki and Momota clearly thought he was beyond reasoning with long before this, but as a detective and as someone relatively sure that Ouma was hiding something underneath that facade of his, Saihara never truly doubted before this that Ouma must have had somewhat justified reasons for acting the way that he did.

But Ouma is intent at this point on cutting ties entirely. While I think there’s definitely a part of him that wants Saihara to surpass all his expectations and use his detective’s reasoning and intuition to piece together why Ouma is like this and what he truly wants to do, his logic and reasoning says it’s never going to happen. And that it’s best if it never happens.

In order to push Saihara and the rest of the group away almost entirely, this is the first time Ouma has ever flat-out stated without beating around the bush that he loves the killing game. People can read into it however they want, but I’m firm in my belief that it’s a lie. If he genuinely loved the killing game, he had a thousand opportunities before this to lead them all astray or betray them or kill them himself. But he knows that if he lies here, it’s not like the group or the mastermind will ever see through those lies anyway.

Saihara (Monologue):After saying that, Ouma-kun smiled eerily.The moment I saw that smile,only one word came into my mind…Malice.Yes, the aura emanating from all over his body,was of pure malice.

Ouma:Behold, I’m the “evil supreme leader”,whose personality is corrupted.The more you guys suffer,It’s just so funny to me, I can’t help it.People experiencing pure suffering makes me happy!There are people like that in this world, too!There are people like me,who spread malice for no reason!

It’s interesting that the key word in this entire part should be “malice,” of all things. If Ouma were truly enjoying the killing game or human suffering half as much as he said, then you would think the aura he’d be giving off would be considerably…happier. After all, characters like Junko, who truly do live for the despair and suffering of others, are 100% ecstatic from the bottom of their hearts when they see it. “Despair-inducingly happy,” as Junko always says. And yet Ouma just feels…malicious.

In my opinion, you don’t get bitter or malicious without having something in particular to hate. And if Ouma didn’t hate the killing game, hate the necessity of lying and manipulating, and even hate himself, then his feeling “malicious” would make absolutely no sense in this context.

Something else very worth noting is that he specifically says his “personality is corrupted.” We have mountains of evidence at this point that Ouma knows his talent and memories are fake, and this just keeps adding to it. Why put his own talent in such a sarcastic context with quotation marks if he didn’t think it was the cruelest sort of irony? Why mention flat-out that his personality is “corrupted” if he didn’t notice the dissonance between his memories pre-game and in-game, and if he didn’t know that he was supposed to actually be a force of SHSL Despair.

If you instead look at this from the viewpoint that Ouma knows all these things, and that he loathes that he has to embrace this kind of role to beat the mastermind at their own game, this entire part of his speech feels…extremely self-deprecating.

He mentions that there are “people like that in this world, too,” and I still can’t help but think this is a barbed jab at the audience. He knows neither the innocent members of the group, nor the mastermind, nor the audience watching outside the game are going to realize that he’s making fun of them, so he can’t help but throw in a bitter indication that by acting cruel and as if the suffering of others was just pure entertainment, he is actually acting just like the audience.

Harukawa:Well then, did you sacrifice Iruma and Gontajust for your own happiness?

Ouma:Is there something wrong with that?Even you, Harumaki-chan, didn’t you kill for money?

Maki’s remark clearly doesn’t sit well with him. Ouma states several times throughout ndrv3 that he doesn’t like or trust murderers, and he only outed Maki’s identity as the SHSL Assassin in the first place because he clearly thought it wrong that she should hide such a dangerous and potentially lethal talent from the rest of them.

He also tacks on the “Harumaki” at the end because of course he’s perceptive enough to know that it’s a nickname only reserved for close friends, and that using it here will only provoke her and the whole group into hating him more.

Ouma:Nishishi… As I thought, Harumaki-chan,that angry face of yours suits you better.Well anyway, you all believe in each other too much.At the very least, you should have watched me a bit more suspiciously.Ahahahaha! If you did, then both Iruma-chan and Gontawouldn’t have died for nothing!

Clearly, he’s getting carried away with his speech now. He’s spewing venom out however he can now, and while he’s still working with the intention of getting them all to hate him more and severing ties with all the rest of them completely, this is also deliberate provocation to try and get someone to run at him.

The obvious two characters most likely to do this are either Maki or Momota, and Ouma is clearly counting here on Maki’s cold composure coming through. So of course, Momota runs at him and tries to punch him, except unlike earlier in the chapter, Ouma is expecting it this time and not only dodges it but counters it mercilessly.

Ouma:Ah, sorry… I only planned to dodge that,but I accidentally countered instead.

Saihara:Momota-kun!

Momota:You, you bastard…!

Ouma:By the way, Momota-chan…I wonder if this is my imagination.It feels like… your punch’s speed dropped, compared to before?

Momota:…Ugh!!

Ouma:Could it be that… Momota-chanis also hiding something from us?

Momota trying to hide his condition from the rest of the group is only going to land him in a world of trouble the more he tries to keep it up (as it inevitably does in Chapter 5), so while he’s already off antagonizing all of them, Ouma decides to get it out of the way and force Momota to somewhat come clean about the whole coughing blood issue.

He’s seen it happening all through Chapter 3 before this when Momota was claiming he just wanted to avoid the occult student council, and no one had thought to pressure Momota for a real answer, so he’s forcing that particular lie to come to an end. Takes a liar to know a liar, and this also backs up the idea that Ouma actually does hate lies and deception.

Harukawa:Just now, that was… Momota said that he hates violence, physical battles, and other such things;You shouldn’t have countered back…

Ouma:Ahaha, did you believe in such a lie!?

Harukawa:………………………………………………You really want to be killed… Don’t you!?

Ouma:Oh? You’re finally getting on board with my provocations?Are you going to say “this one’s for Momota-chan” next?

Saihara:No, don’t do it, Harukawa-san!

Ouma:That’s right, Momota-chanisn’t man enough for Harukawa-chan to snap over on.Just look at him, he’s so lame.He’s just all bark, but in the end, he can’t do a thing.Well, even if you’re the “Super High School Level Astronaut”,you’re merely at the level of a trainee—

Saihara (Monologue):Ouma-kun never finishedsaying his provocation to the end.Everyone else ran towards Momota-kun at once.

Even though both the antagonizing and the punch was actually for Momota’s own good in the end, it’s clear to see that Ouma really, truly is just throwing himself into the villain role here. He’s hating every minute of it, and he wants them to hate him too. The fact that he’s being, in his own opinion, pretty transparent here, and that no one can see through it in the least, is leaving him simply…bitter.

And then there’s the fact that where his own lies are received with universal hatred, Momota’s lie is received with concern and universal acceptance, and Ouma noticeably falters in his facade, just a little bit.

Ouma:Hey, why is everyoneworrying over such a lame person—

Saihara:You’re the one who’s lame… Ouma-kun.

Ouma:…Eh?

Saihara:Momota-kun always has people gathering around him,but as for you, there’s no one.You’re… meant to be that kind of guy.

This is without a doubt, the first time anyone has truly struck back at Ouma. And most importantly of all, it’s Saihara. Saihara, who he’s constantly teased and left a trail of breadcrumbs to follow, who he’s subtly guided through each trial and obstacle that’s occurred. Saihara, who before this was one of the only people in the group besides Gonta who ever believed that Ouma was perhaps not as horrible as he made himself out to be.

And now Gonta’s dead, and Saihara for the first time outright says something worse than “I hate you.” He just says that Ouma is pathetic, basically. That he’s not worth responding to, and that he’ll always be alone.

Ouma:Ahaha! What’s with that talk?Even if you make friends, that wouldn’t make the game more exciting or—………………………………………………Aah, this is getting boring.Somehow, the excitement became less intense.I don’t care anymore…But I’ll just say this…… Because I’ll be the one to win this game.

Ouma can’t manage to throw himself back into the role the way he was doing before. Saihara’s words hit too close to home, and that’s pretty plain to see, considering no one and nothing else in the entire game has ever actually made him falter this badly before.

Ouma has distanced himself from everyone, believed firmly that it was best to work alone rather than with the others because he can’t really trust anyone but himself, and also, to a large degree, believed that he is a horrible person for thinking and doing these things. Hearing from the one person who he constantly found “entertaining” and “amusing” that he’s meant to be alone and that he’ll never be understood, Ouma just becomes…tired.

He’s already achieved his main objectives in dispelling the mastermind’s suspicions and in getting the group to hate him, but there’s no more fun or catharsis in it for him. He goes quiet and blank for a long time, and then says perhaps the most straightforward line in his entire speech.

And what the rest of the group interprets as an ominous line about him being willing to “win the game” via killing, or even being the mastermind himself, Ouma clearly intends as his own declaration of war. He cut all ties with everyone, and this is what it took, so he’s going to go through to the end with trying to put a stop to the killing game.

This was very, very long and very, very fun to interpret and explain. Thank you so much for asking, anon! I hope by providing this kind of analysis to it, more people can come to understand Ouma a little better in Chapter 4 and 5!

#ndr3 #drv3 #new danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #chapter 4 hurts me so much every single time i go back to it #anyway here's kokichiohma's oumaspeak-to-english translation attempt #anonymous

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remiensrecountsbct · 3 years

Text

Problems Become SO MUCH MORE COMPLICATED When You Actually Have To Care About Other People

Ok so, I'm not that unempathetic but people really add so many unique variables that they really set my work out for me.

So from now on, I do decree that everyone should kindly stop being emotional and complex creatures at their nearest convenience.

- Sincerely, A Very Tired Me

Personal reasons stopped me from being at Week 8's session blah blah life and such.

I, however, being the me that I am have gone above and beyond to do the bare minimum amount of work and decided to very creatively strip the questions directly from the slideshow and retrofit them in the context of the project I'm working on for 501.

Right, so, without further adieu I present you with: A Blog Post

To clarify any confusion about the preceding questions, my project is about a friend finder app similar to the one on "Bumble" which is referenced many times.

Who is the product intended for: The app is specifically being limited to students but there shouldn't be any issues I see with it being used by the general public because of the way we're going about production of the app.

Why are you making the product:

People are a vital part of making people function, we are, by nature, social creatures.

What is the app for:

Barebones I suppose it's for prevention of isolation and depression, but externally it is designed to connect people who normally wouldn't find each other.

Who is this helping:

Anyone in a position of needing friends but lacks the initiative or bravery or opportunity to go forth and find people independently.

Who is this failing:

People who genuinely struggle with every aspect of communication and meeting people are the exact people that would be using this very app. Yet this app fails those people, rather than a crutch or a guide to conversation this app is more like a portal. You're placed in front of a person and told "Here is your new friend". This is still very daunting to many people.

Who is being ignored:

We intend and aim to assist as many different people as possible, mental illnesses, conditions, habits, etc. We simply don't have the time and the research to encompass inclusivity to every single one of these groups given the scope of the project and eventually we have to choose people to ignore to help others

What assumptions am I making:

I'm almost certain there's some inherent oversight and flaw to the app's function, and I'm always going back to see that I haven't missed something. I believe that because we are all working on the project and know it's an app for making friends we assume how it should work and I am afraid that an unknowing user will instantly run into a flaw in the design and be stumped as to what to do next.

Who else has done something like this:

"The app "Bumble" has a feature called "Bumble BFF" which is very much like our project in almost every aspect, but we have more in-depth knowledge of the users at the cost of time (and something I discover later in this post, privacy)

What are the thoughts that come from knowing that another person/group has already made your product:

On the one hand, it's a tragedy, we're no longer original, revolutionary, interesting, or unique. I mean it wasn't that grand of an idea in the first place but those feelings arise nonetheless, we end up looking like copiers and we're constantly stuck in this massive success shadow. Then on the other hand this is the perfect opportunity due to this precise position, they've run the trial, now we just perfect it. Also, we can use the massive success of this company as a backing board saying "Yes, this is a wanted product" and given it was created by professionals in their fields we know that we're thinking in the right direction to arrive at similar conclusions.

Things that I've learned:

I love trial and error. Research is king, literally just figuring out what colours and shapes would blend well together from just a few articles have changed the game. We went from a bunch of uneducated amateurs throwing shapes at a canvas to being uneducated amateurs carefully molding shapes and colours and then throwing them at a canvas. (Also this method coincidentally was the style that Ricardo used for demonstrating how he finds the most success when teaching. I believed he was right already but it's always fascinating to see things actually happen)

Studies that have been done:

I did find an article not in support or assistance to the creation of the app but rather the opposite, questing the privacy of such apps. Which now seeing it written out is an incredibly valid and scary concern. Hypothetically say all the students use the app, and complete the information survey, we now have an entire collection of names, ages, and interests. Any one of the group members with access to that information could very easily abuse that power. (Will come back and edit this blog with a link to the article)

Things that I can try:

I mean as I already am aware of I am never wrong. But seriously I need to learn how to work and develop ideas WITH people. I seem to believe I'm the smartest person in the room and then rapidly prove that I am in fact a dumbass instead. This as one may assume is not exactly conducive to a fun friendly cooperative working environment. Now I emphasize it like there's constant fighting but no, there hasn't been any. I'm just very stubborn and once I have an idea I'm very seldom swayed from it which makes moving as a group slow at the best of times.

#ctec502 #ctec501

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