For Any Relocated TikTok Users

Tears in my togachaco eyes ,,,

my beautiful gorgeous breathtaking brilliant dazzling handsome exquisite lavishing elegant glorious stunning angelic boy one and only (after iida ofc lol) they can tag team me.

i have a lot to say about the bnha manga leaks but all i WILL say is DAMNMMM DENKI LOOKS SOOO FUCKING FINNEE

How all might looks at his UA coworkers after they mention they were his fans as children (he's starting to feel his age)

Haven’t read the Book of Bill but this is what I think the general premise is based off of all the Tumblr posts about it

Erm I heard there’s people disrespecting smaus lately and uhm wtf they’re so fun tho

I think Class 1-A becoming one big polycule would just make so much sense given everything they've been through together and how close they are. It would be so wholesome, and I need it to be canon.

while i didnt have time to do stuff for fizzarozzie week while it actually was happening this year, this is based on the first prompt, "wedding journey"!

the funniest answer to "who proposed" is always BOTH

Most Adorable Hashira

thinking about pro hero bkg answering your ad for a roommate (less because he needs one and more that he's tired of his therapist's persistent encouraging to, at the very least, be around another person once in a while between missions). it's pretty nondescript - you're a young professional with a cat, and that's about all he knows. he's expecting some shy nerd. he's almost looking forward to the way you will undoubtedly move around each other like ships in the night.

but then you move in, and you're - not even a little bit of any of that. you do this stupid snort instead of laughing normally and he's sure he's seen your tonsils from how often your mouth is open and speaking. You shed all over the place and your cat jumps on his dresser and knocks all of his All Might shit down and he's just. sooo over it.

but then he has a particularly tough mission - a successful one, but it comes at a cost. his shoulders are heavy when he walks in through the door, forgetting for a moment that you're -

there. curls pinned up in some sort of falling knot on top of your head, wearing a sweatshirt of his you certainly never asked to borrow. you look absurd, swimming in his clothes and a pair of fuzzy socks, dancing around his kitchen. one hand pushes your dinner around in the skillet in front of you, the other is stained red with the amount of wine you've spilled out of your glass. you didn't hear him come in, but he's not sure it would've mattered if you did.

his suspicion is confirmed when he drops his gauntlet onto the tile - loudly - and you don't even pause in your dedication to making a fool of yourself to grin over your shoulder at him, gesturing your glass at him and singing along to a song he's not even hearing right now.

he thinks he might be starting to understand what his therapist meant, now.