DEI Does Not Mean Lower Standards.

texting fwb!suna 'happy father's day' and then ignoring his texts and calls just to make him sweat a bit

here y'all go, just a simple fun one this time around! take this quiz and tell me what kind of cat you are! (=^･ω･^=)

if you have nice hair, respectfully please don’t stand next to me.

hq boys post wisdom teeth extraction

tags: fluff, soft boyfies lol

kuroo tetsurou wakes up and immediately the first thing he tells the professionals around him is that he wants to see his girlfriend because he knows you’re waiting for him and “i love her so much 🥺🥰" he says it a few more times and everyone laughs at how doped up he is both from the drugs and you. when you walk in to take notes on how to take care of him afterwards, he just stares at you as he holds you hand with the SOFTEST LOOK on his face like 🥺😍☺️❤️💕💖💝🥺🥰💖💝☺️

Keep reading

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

Vetted by: 1) gazavetters verified on the list is (#89 ) 2) fiercynn verified on the list is (#22 ) 3) a-shade-of-blue Here and Here 4) 90-ghost Here 5) dlxxv-vetted-donations Here.

Dear Kind Soul,

Life has a way of testing us, and for me and my family, it’s been a test of survival. As we navigate the aftermath of a devastating war, our world has been reduced to uncertainty, cold nights, and endless struggles to find stability.

I’m Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I’m reaching out to you not for luxuries or dreams, but for the most basic human needs—safety, shelter, and hope for a better future.

Due to unforeseen issues, I had to pause my previous GoFundMe campaign and create a new one to ensure all support reaches us without any obstacles.

Here’s the previous link (now paused) And here’s the new link, where you can continue supporting us

Our goal remains €70,000. Thanks to incredible generosity, we’ve raised €3,957 so far—almost 6% of the way. But with €66,000 still needed, we have a long road ahead.

Your support, no matter how small, could mean the world to us:

A €10 donation can help provide clean water for a day.

A €20 donation could bring warmth to our freezing nights.

A simple share of our story could connect us with someone who can help.

🌟 Please join us in this journey of hope: Donate here

Each day, your compassion keeps us going. Your kindness is not just a donation—it’s a lifeline, a promise that better days are possible.

Thank you for being a beacon of hope in our darkest moments. Together, we can turn despair into possibility.

Almost 6% of my long-term goal Reached!

€3,957 out of €70,000

Donations are protected by GOFUNDME

boost!!

so everyone understands the concept of having a type as in ‘type of person im attacted to’ but whats your type as in ‘type of person attracted to me’

mines trainwrecks and repressed nerds

maybe Toya is the problem

the rain hitting the windows makes you even less excited to take the trash out than you already are.

you slip on the closest shoes and head down the steps of your apartment complex. the rain continues, splattering your t shirt almost tie dye. by the time you reach the community dumpster, you realize you aren’t alone.

“h-hey! here, let me hold that for you,” suna holds the lid open for you, allowing you to swing the bag right in.

“thank you,” you say with a small smile, squinting at the headlights that reflect the wet asphalt in the parking lot. you’ve seen suna plenty of times, considering you live right above him. “bummer about the rain huh?”

“nah,” suna grunts as he swings the lid shut, shaking the water off of his hands with a sour face. “we need it, but i think it’s soothing. you know, when it hits the roof when you go to sleep.”

you snicker, and he gives you a confused look. “what?”

“how do you hear it if i live right above you?”

too bad it’s dark outside, or you would be able to see how red suna’s cheeks are.

“w-well, normally it’s-nevermind,” he scratches the back of his head while the two of you walk far too slowly for people walking in the rain. but, you reach your stairwell soon enough.

“have a good night, neighbor!” he waves at you while you head up the stairs.

“goodnight,” you return his gesture.

when suna enters his apartment, he wonders if he can figure out a new excuse to see you again.

your TAGS i cannot afford to fall in love with another miya brother PLEASE i will die

Osamu crowds you against the worn door at the top of Onigiri Miya’s narrow back stairwell, drawing a heated palm up the curve of your side through the thick felted wool of your coat.

“Cut it out,” you giggle as he jostles your hand- key clasped tightly in your fingers- away from the rusty lock.

“Don’t wanna,” he protests, dipping his nose into the hollow of your temple. You can feel his smile against the top of your cheekbone. He still smells smoky and savoury from the teppanyaki place, with the warm flush of two- no- three glasses of red wine rising to his cheeks. He isn’t drunk, but even if he was, it wouldn’t show.

“That was the best goddamned steak I’ve ever had,” he mumbles into your hair, curling one thick forearm around your middle.

Not drunk on wine, anyway.

“Yeah, I’m…” You trail off, concentrating long enough to get the key in the lock, turning and pushing inward. You have to brace your shoulder against the door a little to shove it open, since the frame’s a little warped, and together you stumble into the entryway of the tiny apartment above Osamu’s shop.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get any better than that,” you finish, but he’s not interested in finishing this conversation anymore.

Osamu flips you around between his hands, bracing both palms on your hips and dipping his forehead to yours. The soft strands of his dark hair come loose and fluffy away from whatever style he’d mussed it into earlier that evening, sharing the bathroom mirror with you as you slipped on your rings and adjusted your top.

“Hmm,” he sighs, and his shoulders drop with all the bliss in the world. “I love ya.”

“You’ll say anything on a full stomach,” you purr, planting your hands on the soft plane of it. He lets out a low grunt and slips a hand into the folds of your coat, pinching the tenderest part of your waist to make you yelp.

“I love you too-mph.” You’re cut off by the courteous press of his mouth to yours, and after a heartbeat of polite fumbling, you settle into the rhythm of his kiss and let him slowly divest you of your coat.

You tilt your head to one side, gasping quietly for breath and letting him trail wine-flavoured kisses down the bared column of your throat. He’s setting your skin on fire, lifting shimmering sensations to the surface that the wine in your own system only amplifies.

“Mm-bedroom,” you sigh.

“Don’t hafta tell me twice,” he mumbles into your skin.

Once you get there, however, he tugs you into his arms, collapses backwards onto the bed, and doesn’t move. You give him five whole seconds to do something, and when he fails to, you stir in his magnetic hold.

“Baby?” Your voice comes soft and prompting.

“Mmm?” He opens one eye, peering down at you over the curve of his cheek.

“Weren’t we about to…?”

“Oh, god, no, I can’t,” he groans. “I’m so full I could die. Y’don’t want me messin’ around in there tonight, promise.”

“But…” You can hardly protest. The longer you lie there, the heavier dinner’s weight begins to settle in your gut. He’s right. Expecting sex after all-you-can-eat teppanyaki was beginning to feel like expecting snow in Mexico.

“Let’s do it in the morning,” he brushes, and that pulls a giggle from your chest. When you lift your head, the little smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips proves that he’s still having fun.

“I’ll make it up to ya real good. I swear.”

And the next morning, in sun-drenched sheets of white linen, he does.