If The Chara And Trope Thing Is Still Open ... For A Lil Thing

“Umm it will actually be very difficult for universities to divest from israel and arms manufacturers without tuition skyrocketing 🤓☝🏼” why is the financial stability of a college (and the economy at large, especially in the us) so reliant on what amounts to war profiteering to begin with? Why is that an inevitability that we’re supposed to accept?

just wrote a whole ass megumi fic and tumblr decided to screw up at that exact moment and not process my post which led to me copying and pasting it I HAD THOUGHT into my notes and deleting the draft since it didn’t post BUT LITTLE DID I KNOW it disappeared and wouldn’t paste and now i HAVE NO MEGUMI FIC THATS LOST ME HOURS OF SLEEP and NO WAY OF GETTING IT BACK

“Gimme a kiss,” Atsumu murmurs, deep voice low in your ear. His hands are on your hips, fingers digging into the softness of your skin. 

You pull him away from you, hands cupping his face and thumb running along his cheek in the way you know he likes. You raise an eyebrow, smiling softly, “I’m wearing lipstick, you know.” This causes his eyes to drop to your lips, gaze hungry, suddenly reminded of the fact. 

“So?” he asks, eyes flicking from yours and back to your lips. “Let everyone know I belong ta ya.” 

“You’re going to walk around with my lips printed on your face?” 

He nods eagerly, ducking to bury his face in your neck. “I’d be the happiest man alive if I got ta walk around like that.” 

This makes you laugh, your heart melt, and you reposition your arms around his shoulders to squeeze him closer to you. “You’re going to be late for practice, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just one kiss, baby. Even if it's on the cheek.” 

You sigh, but you know that he knows you’re only faking your reluctance. “Kay.” 

He pulls away from you, giving you his right cheek, and tapping his pointer finger against it with a giddy smile. You make sure to dramatize your actions, making an amplified noise when pulling away, laughing when he gives you his other cheek, and repeating your actions until he finally lowers his mouth to yours. 

He makes sure to deepen the kiss and only chases after you when you pull away, giving you little pecks and placing kisses all around your face, playfully biting your nose when it scrunches in fake disdain. When he finally separates from you, you take notice of the bright red lip marks on his cheeks, and the red tint left on his lips that are stretched into a grin. 

“How do I look?” 

“Like you are definitely mine.” 

His smile widens. “Great. ‘Xactly what I was goin’ for.” 

its always “wyd” and not “I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

“To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

ralph waldo emerson

Same my guy

GOD I wish the minimum wage was a living wage.

I'm not flipping burgers, I'm cleaning litterboxes and doing basic vet care like checking weights, administering medicine, bathing, using IVs, keeping records, making lists, doing photography, and way way more. But the point is even if I was just cleaning litterboxes... I love the work. I wish I could pay rent. Shouldn't I be able to clean litterboxes and feed cats who were rescued from the streets and do that fulfilling wonderful work without wondering where I'm going to live?

Shouldn't someone be able to flip burgers, make art, clean up trash, care for the oceans, teach your children, or rescue animals without being forced to choose between their job and their bills?

What if I don't WANT to climb the ladder and use my degree and search for high stress high pay jobs in order to live? What if I want the high stress job of seeing a kitten crashing below survivable temperature and bringing them back from the brink of death, knowing that I'm the only thing standing between this homeless, unwanted kitten and an early grave?

Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't I be able to afford food and rent by doing that?

I don't want to work at a vet office that can give me steady pay increases. I want to work here, with cats who have no owners, nursing them back to health and helping pick their forever home. I want the infrastructure to support me in doing that. I want the laws to say I can and have programs in place to make it so my shelter CAN support me. I want rent to reflect wages. I want wages to reflect rent.

I want to help the world and be able to survive doing it. I want to thrive doing it. I want that for everyone.

whoever is writing my life has got mad writers block bc wtf am i doing

after the many, many years of being bakugou’s friend, kirishima could say he has never seen his best bud so in love with someone before—so deeply and irrevocably smitten with you.

it was the little things, mostly, that piled up and up until it was so blatantly obvious that bakugou had fallen—and he had fallen hard. making you bentos, hanging around your desk, walking you home… he’d never behaved like this with anyone before, kirishima mused. it was jarring, in a way. but kirishima was happy for his friend, and he couldn’t help but to keep an eye on the two of you whenever he was in the vicinity (whether bakugou knew he was there or not).

lovestruck, was the word that came to kirishima’s bewildered mind the first time he saw bakugou trailing after you. following you like this great shadow around the agency. he never seemed to leave you alone for too long and he’d always have this little pout on his face whenever you’d shoo him away so you could do your own work. kirishima didn’t think bakugou even knew about the extent of his own feelings—not at first, anyways. and when he tried to confront the blond, he’d act all gruff and grouchy, his ears tinted a violent pink.

bakugou could deny it all he wanted, though. kirishima saw right through him.

what really cemented everything for kirishima—really hammered it in that his best friend was finally getting some of the happiness he deserved—was the time bakugou had caught you from falling off a ladder.

you’d been trying to hang up some decorations around the agency—to “brighten things up a bit” you’d said. kirishima had been too far away at the time—but he still saw the moment you’d leaned just a bit too far to the right. the moment your foot had slipped and you’d tumbled off that tall ladder with a small yelp.

bakugou had been exiting his office at that precise moment. and kirishima swore he had never seen his friend run so fucking fast before in his life. a small explosion propelled him forward—charring the wood and frame of his office door. just so he could catch you before you cracked your head open on the floor.

kirishima watched—from his position across the agency, his legs tensed—as bakugou held you tight within his arms and looked down at your shaken form. he watched as bakugou played off his breathlessness as though he hadn’t just dead sprinted across the hall to get to you on time. you wouldn’t ever know, kirishima thought to himself, how desperate bakugou would have to be to move that fast. and kirishima finally relaxed his stance once he saw bakugou set you carefully down on the ground, hovering over you as he scolded you for being so inattentive. you only rubbed the back of your head as you smiled sheepishly up at him. if bakugou hadn’t been smitten before, he certainly was now.

kirishima couldn’t have been happier, really. and he found himself quietly slipping away, a smile on his face at the idea of bakugou finally, finally being in love.