#not because no one else is willing to step up

[revelboo]

Hi! Would you believe I wasn't even considering becoming a Transformers fan until I started reading your work? (A mutual reblogged one of your posts and I thought, "Oh...that's good!!" Then I looked up more on my own.) Bluestreak and Thundercracker's stories are my favorites so far, but all of them are just excellent. Thank you for all your hard work! :D

Thank you! That’s my goal, drag more people kicking and screaming into the fandom

Where I Belong Pt 7

IDW Bluestreak x Reader

• “That’s Ironhide and Trailbreaker,” he murmurs, his servos resting against your legs as you sit on his shoulder, your perch of choice cranking his anxiety that you might fall. One of your little hands is outstretched to rest against his neck as he walks. “Over there is Hound.” He’s not entirely sure if you care or not, but you haven’t told him to stop talking, yet. Knows his nervous chatter is likely annoying you, but can’t stop.

• You’re never going to remember all of their weird names, you decide as he points out Powerglide, Ratchet, and Sideswipe in passing. The red mech with the black helm turning to look at you with amusement when you awkwardly wave at being noticed. Knowing that there’s other humans in the Ark, but that you’re all still a bit of a novelty is a funny feeling. The impression you’ve gotten from several of them is that they think you’re a weirdly intelligent pet, not a person and it’s not exactly flattering, but it does make you thankful you’re stuck with Bluestreak. If anything, you’re the one thinking of him as an excited puppy rather than the other way around. “There’s a lot of you here.”

• Step faltering, he forces a smile so you won’t worry. “We lost contact with Cybertron a long time ago. This is probably all that’s left,” he says, door wings drooping. If anything there’s too few of them and there’ve been no new Cybertronians sparked since the war shattered Cybertron, the planet itself dying. All of it tangles in his processor, making his spark hurt in his chassis as anxiety tries to claw through him, because they all know that they’re it. His venting is roughening, growing ragged as his servos begin to tremble. Knowing that they’ll likely be the last unless they figure something out, but neither side is willing to yield at this point. Marching stubbornly toward extinction. It’s the slide of your soft hand on his neck that calms the chaos, gives him something else to focus on. “Sorry.”

Feeling the faint tremors coursing through him, you press your palm more firmly against him. “You don’t need to apologize.” But he obviously thinks he does, that whatever just gripped him is something shameful. Wrong. A certainty that strengthens when his jaw works, lips stretching into a smile that doesn’t touch his optics. And you wonder how often that happens. Was it something like a panic attack? And who’s told him it wasn’t okay to be scared or worried? Because you want to talk with them. Right now.

Previous

[tmntxthings]

一∑From the Start・゜・。

author’s notes: scurries in from the darkness, throws this > 💣 < out into the light, and runs back for cover 💥

warnings: unedited, angst, drabble, unrequited love, pining, daydreams, cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

When Leo invited you down to the lair to hang out, you had thought maybe it would be a movie thing. Or perhaps even going to the ramp room, chatting while he practiced skateboarding tricks that almost always ended badly with bruises. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dragged you into the kitchen to whip up something to eat or just snack on whatever the two of you could find.

But no, instead, he led you to his room, with a skip in his step. When you questioned why it had to be just the two of you. Why all of his brothers were rolling their eyes in Leo’s direction. He just shook his head, “I can’t tell anyone else! You’re the only one I can trust!” It was then, that you had a sinking feeling.

This scenario had happened before. Many times actually. You glanced back at the bros, exasperated already and you hadn’t even heard anything yet. But you knew.

Once in his room, Leo let go of you, and jumped face first into his bed. He let out a dramatic screech, kicking to boot before he turned to the ceiling and announced, “I’ve got a crush,”

You held back a sigh as you walked over to the only chair in his room. Pulled it out from under the desk, and sat, getting ready for the long haul. “Who and how?”

He really hadn’t even needed the question. He was off to the races explaining exactly how he had met ~them~ and all the moments after, from whence his heart first skipped a beat, the beauty that they hold, how they laugh at all his jokes. Your eyes clouded over.

This was pure torture. As your eyes unfocused, you let your train of thought wander away from Leo’s babbling fancies. Truly you’d lost count of how many times this had happened before. It was always the same things that made his heart flutter. That made him go crazy, so much so, that he’d tire out his brothers from all the lovesick shenanigans and bring you into the mix.

Which was like listening to chalk squeak against a chalkboard. Shrill and grating. If you didn’t tune it out, you’d go crazy yourself. Because it was despicable to listen to your own crush, talk about how much they wanted someone else.

For a second, you could just blink, look over at him, and pretend he wasn’t saying anything of consequence. “Blah blah blah,” his mouth moved, but you weren’t listening. That was better. It was unfair how pretty he could be. Especially when he was happy, especially when he was falling hard. The way he smiled, how his eyes shined. His hands couldn’t stop moving, he just had to animate with his whole body about how he felt. Your knee started to bounce. He was being cruel and he didn’t even realize it.

It wasn’t fair. But then again, how would he ever know unless you told him? You imagined what it would be like. To interrupt him. To confess your love. He’d probably laugh in your face. Ha what a great joke Y/n, now get real and back to my love crisis. That’s what he’d say. Or something along the lines of it.

But sometimes you could imagine him pausing completely. Getting taken so off guard that he no longer had the words to respond. That maybe he’d look at you with a different light. So maybe that was why you did it. On the off chance that, maybe, Leo had always harbored something for you too. Just deep down! So deep that he felt the need to hide it with all of these other so called crushes.

“Leo!”

He blinked and sat up from where he had been laying, interrupting his tangent.

“What?!”

Straightforward. That would be the best route.

“I like you.” Your eyes were steady, yet your heart raced. It was thundering in your chest as you watched one of his brow bones raise.

“I like you too Y/n” he said so as if it was obvious. Which meant he was misunderstanding.

“No no, not like that. I like you.” You strained with the emphasis as you willed his thick skull to understand. And it must’ve gotten through because his eyes widened just a bit.

“You like me?” He questioned, sitting up even straighter than before. Now you had his attention. And you could feel sweat building up in your palms as you nodded seriously.

“But, we’re best friends..” and you could’ve let that shoot you down. But you continued on. Getting up from your spot, from the single chair, and making your way over to him. Despite how every step made you second guess yourself. Despite thinking maybe it was a better idea to just run out of his room. Or to just settle for the friendship you thought you had wanted.

But you pushed through it all as you sat down next to him. “We are. You’re my best friend Leo. And I, maybe I’m greedy, but I can’t help it. I’ve liked you for so long now. And I don’t think I can just sit idly by anymore.”

You took a breath, palms closing into fists. Eyes closing because if he was going to reject you, it’d be better to not see the pity on his face. You piped up once more before he could say anything, “Every time you talk about your crushes, I can’t help but think, but wish, that it were me! And every time you get over one, I get ahead of myself, I hope that maybe, one day, you’ll look at me differently!”

There was so much you could say. So many different ways to say it. But that was the gist. “That… you’ll like me like that. That you’ll return the feelings I’ve felt for you,” you blew out a breath. Then looked into his eyes.

Leo was rarely ever serious but he was now. “I never knew…” he said softly after a moment of silence. Of taking in all that you had revealed. You nodded not knowing what that meant for your relationship with him now. And the fear of losing him forever leaked onto your face. His eyes softened, a green hand going out to cup your cheek.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” and with that he brushed a finger against your skin. He looked down at your lips as they parted with a shocked breath. He smirked, as only Leo could, and leaned down with a silent question that had you tilting your head to give him better access to your lips.

“Y/n are you even listening to me?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were in the single chair.

“Hello! Earth to Y/n, this is like the biggest moment of my life, I’m telling you I think they may be the one!! Come on focus!!”

Right. You straightened up, crossing a leg over the knee that wouldn’t stop bouncing.

“Sorry, go on,”

And he blinded you with that smile as he retold all of the sickening things that made him so endeared to his crush. If only it wasn’t so endearing to you.

—————————————————————————

This ↓ is why this ↑ came about :D

[valas-illyn]

Presently fascinated by the idea of a HDG AU where the compact discovers earth/humanity in 1952

Mostly just because of the politics. Tbh

From the perspective of the commoners of the various communist countries, the affini compact is the ideal communist society promising to bring about Marx's dream in an instant. No more permanent revolution, no more cold war. And in places where the dream is dying because the system simply isn't good enough to cope, they're giving you everything you and your community have strived for but fallen short of.

But to Stalin and Mao. This is the worst possible thing that could have happened. With the affini as allies they can finally win the war, but only by willingly giving up their grasp on power and control. It's the ultimate test of their ideals, and if they refuse, there's a very real chance they'll be lynched.

Meanwhile the capitalist societies are shitting themselves, here's an enemy they can't possibly defeat or defend against, one that proves categorically that communism can function and will bring happiness, exactly as promised, if only they'd let it. The only possible options are to give in or let the nukes fly. Death or surrender.

Which matters more, proving yourself right? Or doing right by your people?

Power or principles?

ETA: and look at it from the Affini's perspective. A planet full of sophonts tearing themselves apart, on the brink of annihilation. You reveal yourself and suddenly there's millions of willing florets literally begging to be rescued! So much so that within days there's half a dozen violent revolutions executing their tinpot dictators and turning over whole nations at a time to you.

These little florets, these communists, who've been trying so so hard to do it by themselves and stumbling at every step, but they just can't quite manage it.

But while half the planet are practically throwing themselves at you, desperate for love and care, the other half, Not even feral, but truly wild, are so violently afraid that they're willing to burn themselves and everyone else with nuclear fire just to get away from you.

It's a delicate situation that requires careful handling. One little human who gets a spook could kill their entire race in a couple of minutes.

[lemotmo]

As a standalone episode I think it was good. One of the best we've had in a while. What I think is throwing some people off is just where it landed in the season. After last week, I can get why there's frustration at the lack of any movement in some arcs. It does feel very much one step forward, two steps back by interrupting the flow of some of those arcs and not addressing them at all. I get it. It can feel like emotional whiplash. Investing and then expecting viewers to pause that for a silly fun filler can throw people out the plot.

But isn't this a classic 911 thing to do though? We as a fandom, have been complaining about this problem for as long as I remember.

911 has one or two character driven episodes that give us some insight into the character's minds. And then the next episode when we all expect something to happen? Nothing.

I'm used to that rhythm by now. So I kinda knew, going into this episode that it wouldn't give us anything big. It's just the nature of 911 and... most network shows to be honest.

I grew up on network shows, before the streaming era. I remember watching 'NYPD Blue', 'ER', 'The Practice', 'Law & Order', 'Ally McBeal', 'JAG', 'Third Watch', 'The X-files', 'Stargate Atlantis', 'The West Wing', 'Without a Trace', 'Star Trek - Voyager', Star Trek - DS9', 'Castle', 'Bones' and so many other shows, and being frustrated sometimes with the fact that we got filler episodes after a really emotionally intense story arc. It's ensemble shows on network TV. That's the way it works.

Yes, we all want to see these character's personal storylines progress, but we can't see all of them progress at the same time.

Does it feel like an emotional whiplash sometimes? Especially because we love certain characters so much and we finally want to see some progress in their storyline? Well yeah, it does. But that's how it's always been.

And to be fair, we did get to see major character growth in this episode. We got to see a new facet of Athena. She is starting to realise that she's getting a little older, no longer able to do it all by herself and she wants to pass on all of her knowledge to a rookie. That's major progress for her and I'm willing to bet the Athena fans had a blast watching this episode. As they should. Next week it'll be time for someone else to have some character growth. Again, that's the way this works.

So, I'm here, I'm sat and willing to wait it out. And in the mean time? I'm just enjoying my show. You know? 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, this is just my two cents you guys. Feel free to disagree with me and ignore this. You know I don't mind. It's all good. This is just the way I see it.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 71

First / Previous / Next

The atmosphere aboard the dreadnought was tense. There were a few moments of negotiation about whether Penny would go over to Gord's ship, or Gord to Penny's but in the end, Gord blinked first. Probably because he knew that Home still had their stardrive pointed at Penny's ship.

The ships connected, Gord and Chloe came over and were led to a conference room right off the airlock. A steward - knowing they were both AIs - offered them coffee or tea, and to her immense surprise, Gord accepted. A few moments after the coffee was delivered, Penny and Zhe came in. As she stepped in, a guard attempted to follow them, and Zhe stared at him and shook her head. His eyes flicked to Penny's and she nodded, and he saluted sharply and stepped back out.

"That was the 'this is insane, but you are the commander, so I will do what you say' salute if I ever saw one." Gord said, grinning around his coffee. Penny looked at Gord, surprised. Zhe just smirked and flicked her ears.

As they both sat Gord put his coffee down. "Feeling a little overwhelmed, Empress? It's okay, we're among friends here."

Penny glared at Gord for the barest split second, then her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. "I have no idea what I'm doing." She said to the ceiling. Penny continued, "Fen left on the expeditionary force - I told her she didn't need to go, but she insisted, then we get an emergency beacon from the K'laxi of all people saying that they're breaking away from the Empire, oh and not only that they are fighting against the nanites - which the general public didn't know about - but now they do, and that there isn't an Empress anymore and what can we do but assume she was killed along with the expeditionary force!" She tilted her head just enough to see Gord, "they were destroyed I assume?" He nodded once. She looked back up at the ceiling. "I immediately declare myself Empress - along with about a dozen other people across colonial space and now it's a race to see who can build the largest coalition of support and-" she sighed "-probably fight a couple of civil wars before the new leader of humanity is declared." She sat up and locked eyes with Gord. "Then, I scramble to get whatever ship will let me on out to Home so I can go ask the AIs - who just recently came back and said they were willing to work with us - for help figuring out what the fuck is happening, and I get ignored and sure, maybe I overreact a little and sent a couple shots over your bow to get your attention. Someone from out past Jupiter tells me to stuff it, and then Home aims their stardrive at me. So yes Gord, I am feeling 'a little overwhelmed'" She trudges over to the sideboard in the conference room, pours a water, downs it in one gulp, pours another, and then sits back down. "So then, Gord and Chloe, representatives of the AI faction, what do you want to discuss."

Chloe shifts awkwardly in her seat. "Well, we-"

"Did you know I was a spy?" Penny said, unprompted. "My aim never was for power. I was assigned to watch Fen, keep my superiors apprised about what she was doing - mostly with her K'laxi black projects team - and to try and steer her away from any actually damaging courses of action. I wasn't supposed to fall for her!" It was practically a wail. "I know she holds a candle for her dead wife and will probably never actually love anyone else, doesn't matter I still loved her! Now, she's gone, and I don't know if she's alive or dead, and the Nanites are acting real strange and the whole thing is going to crash down, and if I survive the next year it'll be an Ancestors provided miracle." She stifled a sob and took another sip of water and sniffed. "So, if you have any idea where Fen went, please, please tell me."

Gord looked at Chloe. There was a second of them staring at eachother. Communicating? Just staring? Zhe wasn't sure. Finally Chloe blinked and scoffed. "Fine." She said.

"Well Penny - Penelope - Empress..." Gord said, kindly. "We don't exactly know... anymore."

****

Fen drifted in and out of conciseness. Her suit had her partially reclined, and she was well supported, and the suit was warm and quiet and she was so tired. So very tired. Was she sleeping, or was she passing out? Did it matter? She blinked and the gray of the virus took up a small portion of the nebula. She blinked again, and half the nebula was gray. Blinking again, it was all gray. Shit, this was bad. "Suit?" She said. "How long has it been since we linked here?"

TWENTY STANDARD SOL HOURS.

Nearly a day. Didn't feel like it. She ached, her limbs felt tired and cold and she wasn't hungry. Shouldn't she be hungry? She drank a little water from the straw near her mouth, and suddenly her mouth was incredibly parched. She sucked the water in greedy slurps until the pouch was empty. It would refill overtime from expelled moisture from her breath, and processed waste, and even from the spare oxygen and hydrogen it could capture from interstellar space, but, she might get one more pouch of water that way. If she was going to survive she needed to do something.

"But what, Fen? What the fuck do I do now?" She said to herself. There was nobody near, nobody who knew where she was - unless Gord or Chloe thought to scan for the backpack's link signature. Supposedly that was possible, but it was difficult, and not terribly accurate and would... require them knowing... she left. Dammit. Chloe knew she left, Fen thought, but she had cut her comm.

Wait a moment, the backpack had enough power for two trips, one 'there' and one 'back.' She brought up the link backpack's overlay and... yes, it could link exactly one more time.

But where?

She could link back to Sol, but would anyone be able to find her in time? Did the backpack have a directory of common locations? If she linked in the middle of the shipping lane for Parvati, would they see her, or would she just be another bit of debris destroyed by the stationkeeping lasers of a Starjumper linking in? Scrolling through the settings, Fen saw that it didn't really have a directory. The backpack was clearly one step above a prototype. There was a log of previous addresses, but they didn't detail where they were. Her only option was to wait here, and hope Gord or Chloe put two and two together and got six, or link back to Sol, and scream on comms until she died, or was rescued.

Fen sighed. Was it even a choice?

She toggled the return, and the backpack linked her away from the white hole, and the remains of the nanites.

Fen sat on the forest floor, hugging her knees. Ma sat next to her, leaning her head on Fen's shoulder. "You should be proud hon. You did it." She straightened up. "Not only that, but you did it yourself, with your own idea. It wasn't Gord's idea, or Zhe's, or Penny's or mine. It was yours."

Fen smiled as she clutched her knees. "I am pretty awesome, aren't I?"

"You know I know you are." Ma said, her ears flicking.

"But Ma, what am I going to do now? Defeating the nanites was just the start. If I get picked up, If I survive, If we can figure out the K'laxi..."

"All decisions you have the privilege, the honor to make, because you took the step to stop the nanites. Humanity is in charge of their destiny again. The other stuff?" Ma nuzzled Fen's neck. "That's just details."

Fen was in space still, but this was different. For one, the yellow-white light of Sol shone on her, warming her suit, not the sharp blue white of the white hole. For another, her comm lit up with dozens of frequencies, all clearing for the emergency trill of her rescue beacon. For a third... three quarters of Fen's view was taken up by the colony ship the AI called Home, only a couple hundred kilometers away.

Of course. She was on Gord's ship before and that was right next to Home. She'd return to the same location, and would naturally still be next to home. Fen sighed and drifted off as red and white sparkles of emergency ships soared towards her.

[snifekinner]

Denmark and Sweden siblings for the sibling meme?

If you've already answered that, then please use this as a chance to talk about the whole family! It seems like Norway is another sibling in the family. What are the siblings' relationships to each other? How many siblings are there in all, who are they, and what is their age order? What is the relationship between them and their parents like?

oh my god SO happily!

here is den and swe, it got really long but im going to post some general family headcanons separately, i will always take a chance to yell about my fave boys. thank you for asking bro! here is some of the dysfunctional world's worst brothers!

who hogs the game consoles?

sweden, bc den doesnt have enough attention span to keep playing too long and he ragequits if swe beats him, which he almost always does bc swe is largely unbeatable at videogames. den usually wins at pool though which is a sore spot for swe. they once spent half an hour on one of those arcade basketball games because neither would admit defeat.

who usually causes the fights?

lmao oh boy. they both cause fights just by being in the same room. classic sibling energy, i hc den as the eldest and swe as the youngest so their relationship is very volatile and very based on beating the shit out of each other. den will wind swe up until he loses it and swe will be quietly sneakily aggravating so den looks completely unreasonable when he gets mad. swe loves getting den into trouble and then skating on by looking innocent.

who steals the others' clothes?

den will steal socks, underwear, tshirts and coats off swe. swe doesnt like wearing other people's clothes and especially not den's because theyre always so wrinkled.

who eats all the good snacks before the other can get any?

to repeat: sweden is the youngest child and he is the snack eater. he always says he's going to replace it but he never does. can you tell im still mad at my younger brother?

which one gets the top bunk or bottom bunk?

on god they will fight each other. when they were kids well i guess bunkbeds werent really a thing but they would always fight for the best sleeping spot and its no different now. as adults in the here and now, theyre both Big Men and the bottom bunk is more roomy so they fight for that. if there was one single and one double bed theyd fight for the double. you understand. they want the same thing and are always always willing to go to war about it.

who speaks up when the other asked for no pickles?

den never needs anyone to do that bc he'll eat literally anything. if he gets something he didnt order he's just like, cool! let me try this! he used to speak up for swe but swe makes a point to do it himself when den is there bc fuck u dont talk for him.

which one likes to go into the other's room, fart, and immediately leave?

both equally guilty. also my older brother used to do this thing where he would wrestle my little brother to the ground, pull his slippers off and beat him in the head and back with them. once he put them in the freezer then got them out cold and hit him with them. anyway thats denmark and sweden.

which one bails the other out of jail?

they get in jail together doing some stupid shit that swe would never do with anyone else. everyone else thinks swe is really straight laced now but when he and den get together they create chaos. norway refuses to bail them out so finland has to step in.

swe and den are both incredibly repentant for around 6 months to 2 years depending on the offence. and then it happens again.

which one won't stop repeating an embarrassing story about their sibling as a child?

denmark - once again swe is let down by not being a good storyteller. denmark has a great memory for everything anyone he knows has ever done. he remembers every embarrassing moment and he will weaponise them.

who do they each think the favourite child is?

i think they both think its the other. but when they have their rare moments of camaraderie they bitch together about it being norway.

[faylighting]

its the way that they seem, at first glance, to be the least prepared out of all the protagonists to lead. to be a hero. they make jokes about people's loved ones coming back to life and flopping around the streets, they laugh in the face of death. but instead of falling into the role, or being conscripted into it- the role of hero is quite literally molded by/around them. it fits them like a glove. and they don't need to alter it or shrink or grow to fit it- the glove was made for them. and i think that's what drives a rival carver so crazy- that they don't even seem to try (SEEM being the key word), and yet purple hawke just IS the hero.

red hawke may be my favorite but there is a unique sadness to purple hawke that constricts my heart and makes me fall down upon the floor you get me. it's the covering up of pain. the (often failed) attempts to make their friends and family a bit safer, a bit happier. it's knowing that if they are the pc, that means they take after malcolm hawke and it is a legacy of smiles they don't feel stretch backwards through the years.

it's the snarky comments to their baby sister about that family heirloom staff she got that has a very, very naked woman on top that makes bethany sputter and flush and roll her eyes, saying "at least my naked w-"

"isabela!"

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[todayisafridaynight]

Anyone else thought about Ryuji and Aoki kissing?? I can see Ryuji just not taking any of Aokis shit... Fellow Aoki enjoyers.. plz tell me someone else thought about this

anon i think youre flying solo on this one. Respectfully. But maybe im wrong who’s to say Not Me

[thenerdcommander]

We're less than a week away from moving day and not even finished packing or cleaning yet I'm so depressed and burnt out from doing Tasks and being anxious that I was barely able to warm a frozen pizza

[cyarsk52-20]

When Tina Turner left her first husband - who was also her boss, captor, and brutal tormentor - she snuck out of their Dallas hotel room with a single thought in her mind: "The way out is through the door." From there she fled across the midnight freeway, semi-trucks careening past her, with 36 cents and a Mobil gas card in her pocket. As soon as she decided to walk out that door, she owned nothing else. When she filed for divorce, she made an unusual request. She didn't want anything: not the song rights, not the cars, not the houses, not the money. All she wanted was the stage name he gave her - Tina - and her married name - Turner. This was the name by which the world had come to know her, and keeping it was her only chance to salvage her career. Things could have gone a lot of ways from there. She could have labored in obscurity for decades, maybe making records on small labels to be prized by vinyl connoisseurs in Portland. She could have stayed in Vegas, where she first went to get her chops back up, and worked as a nostalgia act. And, of course, given what she had been through, she might have … not made it. What happened instead is that Tina Turner became the biggest global rock star of the 80s. I'm old enough to barely remember this, but if you aren't, it was like this: The Rolling Stones would headline a stadium one day, and the next day it would be Tina Turner. A middle-aged Black woman - she became a rock star at 42! - sitting atop the 1980s like it was her throne. She managed this because of whatever rare stuff she was made of (this is a woman whose label gave her two weeks to record her solo debut, Private Dancer, which went five times platinum); because she decided to speak publicly about her abusive marriage and forge her own identity, and in doing so give hope and courage to countless women; and also because - in a perhaps unlikely twist for a girl from Nutbush, Tennessee - she had her practice of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, to which she credited her survival. She remained devout until the end. Tina's second marriage - to her, her only marriage - was to Edwin Bach, a Swiss music executive 16 years her junior. Of him, she said, "Erwin, who is a force of nature in his own right, has never been the least bit intimidated by my career, my talents, or my fame." In 2016, after a barrage of health problems, Tina's kidneys began to fail. A Swiss citizen by then, she had started preparing for assisted suicide when her husband stepped in. According to Tina, he said, "He didn't want another woman, or another life." He gave her one of his kidneys, buying her the remainder of her time on this earth and perhaps closing a cycle which took her from a man who inflicted injury upon her to a man willing to inflict injury upon himself to save her from harm. Born into a share-cropping family as Anna Mae Bullock in 1939, she died Tina Turner in a palatial Swiss estate: the queen of rock 'n roll; a storm of a performer with a wildcat-fierce voice; a dancer of visceral, spine-tingling potency and ability; a beauty for the ages; a survivor of terrible abuse and an advocate for others in similar situations; an author and actress; a devout Buddhist; a wife and mother; a human being of rare talent and perseverance who, through her transcendent brilliance, became a legend.

Credit: Will Stenberg

[fairuzfan]

I'm to the point where if I hear you're endorsing/voting for Kamala Harris and you're publicly getting mad at people for not voting for her, I'm not even going to listen what you have to say, you've made it clear you have to strong principles to guide your decisions beyond "what's worse for me personally?" I think Harris voters have no actual ideologies to live by, despite claiming they do, and I fundamentally don't respect them for it. It's one thing to be angry at people who won't vote for Harris, but it's another thing to pretend you're doing it because you have some sort of moral authority and not basing it off pure selfishness. You think that solidarity is posting about things and that's it. You refuse to make yourself uncomfortable, even momentarily. And you get mad at people who are willing to go through discomfort for the sake of others. You call them names, ans claim that THEY are the selfish ones in this scenario. You've given up on making a change in the world for the better, or maybe you were never interested in it. All of your arguments pale in comparison to reality, because Harris is actively funding a genocide. She has even refused to acknowledge a reality in which she does not fund that genocide. Has made such a thing clearer and clearer. All my problems here in the imperial core are secondary to that. I'm about to go through multiple personal issues that are made increasingly hard by political factors and I still think that's nothing in comparison to what Palestinians and Lebanese are going through overseas. You've placed yourselves as the ultimate victims in the world and to me it's laughable and completely out of touch with just how fucked everyone else is because of the imperial beast that is Amerikkka. And speak nothing of the way the victims of Amerikkkan imperialism on Turtle Island bear the brunt of societies' woes for your personal comfort and refusal to make any meaningful change. Not ev baby steps! You think trump is an accidental anomaly and not a product of a larger issue within white amerikkkan politics. Is it not shocking to you that so many people here are voting for trump so enthusiastically?

Seeing things like the weaponization of personal identity, like "Muslims for Harris," used so plainly is an insult to the ideas of internationalism that you all claim to follow. What use is solidarity with the victims of imperialism if you refuse to acknowledge the entirety of the imperial complex? That includes the democrats you hold so dear as well as the Republicans? What use is any of this if you only think for yourself?

You claim to be thinking of others, and that's why you vote for Harris... but what is so incomprehensible to me is the comfort in which you accept the inevitability of Palestinian deaths. Why are you so willing to accept that reality? Why are you comfortable with that reality? It shocks me and disgusts me in a way that I can not really describe. You lot argue and argue and argue, but in the end, the difference between you and me is that I refuse to engage in a reality where Palestinians must die in any case. You have yet to refuse that. In actuality, you all refuse the baby steps, the bare minimum, of refusal to engage in continuation of that reality. And because of that, I do not take you seriously, nor do I view you as being moral in your decision to sacrifice Palestinians.

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

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[tojisun]

still on that "simon teaching you how to shotgun while you're riding him lazily" shit and will always be on that shit!!

•°. *࿐

he pinches your chin, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the smooth of your skin. “breathe it in slowly—it will burn, especially ‘cause this is y’r first time—so tap when s’too much, okay?”

“okay,” you hum, eyes fluttering slowly at the gentle touch, a caress you know that is meant to be beckoning.

simon shifts the two of you on his seat, shuffling carefully, but the slight movement still makes you gasp, a sputtering of your breath, as muted please races through you at the deeper press of his cock.

he croons at your reaction, eyes crinkling as he murmurs praises and ‘i love you’s, his voice so full of adoration. it makes your heart clench, lips wobbling at the softness of it all—

simon is not a good man. he said this to you the first time you begged him to take you to his place.

(“please,” you whimpered then, too overwhelmed with your lust to notice the way he was straining against his self-control. “i need you.”

your voice broke, a sad tinge curling in your words, and you wonder if it was that which finally pushed simon to the edge. if it was the desperation he could see burning in your eyes and rippling into the way you held him—loose fists bunching up his shirt—that finally made him buckle.

“i’m not the man that you think i am, sweetheart,” he spat out, his voice weaving between his teeth in a barely-contained snarl. “y’re too good f’r me.”

“i don’t care,” you murmured, stepping closer into him, devouring even the minuscule space between you two because simon needed to know. he needed to understand that there is no one else you yearn for but him—

“goddamn it.”

his snarl was followed by the way his teeth sank into your skin, marking, tugging.

yes! you thought with giddiness, a sharp gasp getting torn from the base of your throat. yes!yes!yes!)

simon is not a good man, but he kisses you like one. he cares for you like one. he loves you like one.

simon is not a good man, but did he need to be? he was yours. was that not enough?

you rut your hips in slow circles, quiet rasps of your gasps filling up the space. you watch with hooded eyes as simon lights his cigarette, before you lean forward to snuff the fire off his lighter. your eyes meet his above the wafting smoke, desire mutual as it drips into each other’s laps.

sweat beads on your forehead, sliding down your temple.

you brace yourself on your knees, mewling as you feel the base of his cock sliding out from the grips of your wet walls, before slowly sinking back down to engulf the thickness of it. his cock digs deep again, settling somewhere that makes you feel so full—you swear your organs shift to make room for him—and it is in the midst of your stuttered whimpers that simon takes a drag of his cigarette, slow and deep.

you become so hyperaware all of a sudden, watching as his chest expands with every inhale. then, he takes the stick out, and he turns to you with pursed lips. simon cups your cheek once again, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye.

anticipation courses through you as you pitch forward, willing your shaking body to sit still. you see the muted spark of the cigarette in your peripheral as you go—a temptress in its own right—until you feel the scruff of his unshaven chin tickling your own.

you didn’t realize how much your lips are trembling until you feel the steady press of simon’s against yours. he gives you soft pecks, reassuring kisses, and then he’s breathing out the smoke into your willing mouth.

you breathe it in slowly, feeling the burn on your tongue slither to your throat until it fills up your lungs. it feels like a thick miasma is being poured down your trachea, choking you with the tendrils of its fiery fog, and you cough, ripping your lips from simon’s.

“shh, shh,” he murmurs, quick to comfort you, his hand steady on the base of your head. “y’did great, sweetheart. y’did great.”

you can’t hear him, ears ringing as the heat spreads within you.

it is so foreign, dangerous, yet it is so, so sensual—

a metaphor for simon.

suddenly, sharp pleasure curls in the pit of your stomach, batting away the burn, and you keen, drawn out and high-pitched, before tipping your head down, needing to watch the way simon circles his thumb on your clit.

he’s let go of his cigarette—

“sim-onnn,” you hiccup, heart thudding with your disappointment. “wan’ more.”

he chuckles, the sound of it so fond.

so proud.

“look at you,” he croons. “it hurt you an’ yet you want more.”

his hand slides down from the base of your head to trace the plane of your spine before settling atop your ass where he grabs a fistful of your flesh. you groan, feeling truly edged out—the lapping euphoria you feel from the slow caress on your clit is not enough, and the thrill of breathing in simon’s sin having been cut short.

any more teasing and frustrated tears will trickle from the corners of your eyes.

simon catches your pout, and he grins, one that is a bite too mean.

“so needy,” he says, sighing dramatically, before he reaches for the stick and pinches it between his lips.

it makes you squirm, excited, your mouth already open—

needy, just like he said.

[hanahaki270]

♡ Sharing a Dorm ♡

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Synopsis ┊Your dorm is going under renovation and you need to find a place to crash in for a while. Luckily a certain someone offers you to stay in theirs for the time being.

Characters ┊Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya.

A/N ┊beginner Writer here, these were harder to think of than I thought ngl. If you have any requests please send them to me, I'm open to do different characters and also different anime's!

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Katsuki Bakugou

❥ By no means whatsoever does he offer his dorm out of the kindness of his heart. He just got pissed off of seeing you sleeping on the couch in the commons area every morning, and accidentally stepping on your blanket or pillows. After stepping on your blanket once more he grabs your shit and puts it in his dorm and acts like he's bothered by this but really he doesn't mind at all.

❥ Makes you sleep on the floor for the first two nights until you convince him to share the bed. He's reluctant at first but then allows it as long as you stay on your side of the bed. Do you really though?

❥ Expect to sleep earlier and get your sleep schedule in check because his dorm, his rules, lights are off at ten pm sharp with no exceptions.

❥ Also expect your grades to go up. While he's your roommate he's going to make you don't slack off on your studies.

❥ When he wakes up in the morning and notices your head resting on his chest he gets somewhat annoyed but secretly likes it. he's willing to get behind on his strict schedule and let you rest on him a little longer. but just a little.

❥ Demands you now be his training partner but is careful to not get carried away. You're strong, but he still doesn't want to run the risk of hurting you. therefore, he always keeps Aid kits in the bathroom just in case you do get any scratches, even if they're minor.

❥ Constantly threatening to kick you out over every little thing but actually has no intention of doing so. He won't admit it but he enjoys your company. "I swear if I see one more sock lying around I'm grabbing your shit and throwing it out."

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Shoto Todoroki

❥ "Why don't you sleep with me." he said boldly unaware of how his sentence had more than one connotation to it. I mean you need help and as your friend he's more than willing to help you out. plus he has the biggest dorm compared to everyone else, if anything he's the most suitable to offer his help he thought.

❥ Asks you what temperature you prefer to sleep in so he can use his quirk to either make the room colder or warmer depending on your preference. and ALWAYS makes sure to make both sides of your pillows cold.

❥ When he's out visiting his mother you make sure the place is clean (though it usually is since he tends to be on the neater side) and prepare some soba for him as a token of your appreciation. After a couple of times he starts to look forward for it and got saddened the one day you forgot.

❥ In return he made sure not turn on the lights when getting ready in the morning as to not wake you up. Part of it was for a selfish reason though, he thought it was cute how you slept soundly on his bed.

❥ Speaking about sleep; During the night he would find himself cozying up next to you, not on purpose though. He just felt comfort in your presence and he realized you felt the same way when you also moved closer to him during the night.

❥ Leaves out coffee for you in the mornings since you tend to stay up late on nights and wake up always running late to your classes.

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Izuku Midoriya

❥ Overheard you talking to Tsuyu and Uraraka about how you need a place to sleep in and walked over to offer his help without a second thought. You already spend most of your time in his dorm room during the day to share notes anyways. The only difference would just be you spending the night.

❥ Offers for you to sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the floor. After you refuse to let him sleep on the floor he shyly agrees to share the bed with you constantly asking you if you're okay with it.

❥ Midoriya stays up late at night writing in his notebook and murmuring thoughts to himself. You persuade him to go to bed and leave his worries for the following day. he deeply apologizes for the burden kind of embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry! was I keeping you up? I'll go to bed in a few minutes don't worry."

❥ Always invites you to go out with him whenever he leaves the dorm, even if it's something as simple as going to the gas station to get some snacks.

❥ he loves to talk your ear off geeking out about the knowledge he knows about the top heroes and their quirks. When he notices he got carried away he gets all types of flustered but even then he doesn't get the sense of being judged.

❥ Since he's constantly getting injured and going to see Recovery girl he always comes back exhausted. regardless, his stubborn ass still tries to go out on missions and push himself to the limits. he get's frustrated when you don't let him do so and force him to rest and leave his chores to you. But he loves you for it.