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humans are a subspecies of elf known for dying really quickly and being stressed the whole time

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young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can

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"someone who allows you to rest" is the relationship dynamic of all time

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If a worker who isn't the owner says ANYTHING similar to "I'm not really supposed to do this but-" and then does something that helps you, under no circumstances inform the business, including through reviews. You tell them that the worker was polite, professional, the very model of customer service and why you like to go there. You do not breathe a word of the rulebreaking.

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promises kept - Chapter 3 - gabstar - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

chapter 3 of promises kept is up!! hope you enjoy!!

The next few months pass surprisingly quickly. The restoration efforts go by much more smoothly now that Izuku and Katsuki are out on the field (together, because Aizawa was shockingly amendable as soon as Izuku cried about it a little. Katsuki suspects that his own freak-out didn’t hurt either) and soon enough Musutafu starts to look like home again. Trees are replanted, playgrounds restored, and office buildings and restaurants become operational once again. Children go back to school, adults return to work, and life goes on. 

Regular classes resume at UA. It’s more than a little weird putting on their school uniforms and sitting through fucking algebra lessons after experiencing the horrors of war, but it’s also a kind of nice. The mundane feels like a privilege after everything they’ve been through. Homework, boring lectures, training regimens, and eating with friends at lunch were hard-won victories. It’s hard not to be grateful for it. It’s a slow process, but eventually, things settle into a new kind of normal. 

Except it’s better. Way better. Because now Katsuki has Izuku and the whole world is brighter because of it. 

True to his word, Izuku is as clingy as he likes. They train together, study together, partner up on group projects, hang out in Katsuki’s room after class, and go to the gym together. They don’t leave campus without one another, even if it’s just to pop by the convenience store or to visit their parents’ homes. A few times a week, Izuku’s friends will drag him away to have a Dungeons and Dragons session in one of their dorms or a study date in the common room, but for the most part their friend groups have merged. They all sit together at lunch, even though they have to cram multiple tables together to fit everyone, and even then it’s such a tight squeeze that their thighs squish up against one another. It’s a little overwhelming to hang out with all of them at once, but somehow having Izuku at his side makes it easier to bear. Izuku still hasn’t spent a single night in his own dorm room. 

And true to Katsuki’s word, he is there for Izuku. Whatever he needs. Whenever he needs it. 

At first Izuku is shy about the things he requests. It starts with small favors: helping Izuku do his physical therapy exercises, lending Izuku is hoodies when the nights got cold in Katsuki’s dorm room, reminding Izuku to take his anxiety meds, jogging together in the mornings in case he gets ambushed by the press again (which they did. Because those fuckers were relentless.) Katsuki does it all gladly. Every small task feels like it’s a step forward, a building block added to the foundation of their repairing friendship. It’s both an honor and a relief that Izuku trusts him enough to ask for what he needs; it makes Katsuki’s heart feel like a brilliant star blazing in his chest. 

But the more time passes, the more bold and casual Izuku’s requests become. Katsuki only starts noticing it about six months after they’ve been released from the hospital. 

They’re studying in the common room together, with their homework splayed out across the coffee table as they sit on the floor, close enough that their shoulders brush as they write. Izuku must be having trouble with English again because he keeps muttering to himself in the garbled language, but Katsuki knows better than to offer help before he asks. Izuku can be weirdly stubborn and competitive sometimes, especially when it comes to Katsuki. 

Izuku sets his pencil down and sighs heavily, letting his head fall onto the coffee table with a thwunk. Katsuki smirks. 

“You good?” he asks, nudging Izuku with his knee. 

“Can’t do it,” Izuku declares. “Too tired. I think I need a break.” 

Katsuki hums in acknowledgement. It’s almost dinner time anyway. They can pick this shit up after they get some food in them. Maybe he’ll pop on an episode of Wonderful Quirks and Where to Find Them while they eat. It’s the least annoying of Izuku’s favorite trashy reality TV shows anyway. Katsuki starts gathering up his pencils and scrap paper. 

Izuku leans on the coffee table, propping himself up with an elbow as he looks at Katsuki with a strange glitter in his eye. 

“Hey,” he says. “You know how to make katsudon?” 

Katsuki frowns as he shoves his homework back into his school bag. “Course I do. Shit’s easy.” 

“Hm,” Izuku says. He taps his chin with the butt of his pencil. “Well. I don’t.” 

“What the hell? Didn’t your mom ever teach you how to cook?” Katsuki demands, turning to frown at him. 

Izuku shrugs. His grin is somewhat sheepish. Katsuki rolls his eyes. 

“You’ve gotta learn that shit if you want to be a hero,” Katsuki scolds. “Can’t maintain muscle mass off of TV dinners and protein bars.” 

Izuku hums in acknowledgement.

“Kacchan is right. I should learn how to cook,” he says, nodding seriously.

And then peeks up at Katsuki with a cheeky little grin. 

“Teach me?”

God, he’s so cute. All soft curls, shimmery sea-green eyes, and dimples. He’s beyond cute, he’s fucking angellic. Katsuki should be used to it by now, but somehow Izuku’s specific brand of adorable only gets more potent over time. Katsuki takes an extra three seconds to process what he’s just asked. He blinks rapidly, forcing himself to refocus. 

“You want me to teach you how to cook?” Katsuki repeats as flatly as he can. 

Izuku bats his huge fucking bambi-eyes up at him innocently. 

“I can’t do it on my own, Kacchan,” he says, soft and sweet. 

Katsuki’s belly riots with butterflies. Fucking butterflies. Who is he? How has he allowed himself to become this pathetic? He feels a flash of annoyance, but it’s quickly drowned out by this strange, fluttery fond feeling. Even though he really should stay annoyed. Is Izuku seriously trying to use Katsuki’s solemn vow to strong arm him into making katsudon for him? Katsuki isn’t an idiot; he sees right through Izuku’s little game. Katsuki fights down his grin as best he can. 

“Go wash your fucking hands,” Katsuki says. Izuku leaps to his feet, beaming so brightly it puts the sun to shame. He bolts into the kitchen and shimmies his shoulders excitedly. 

[READ MORE]

#hahaha go read my bkdk fic I’m not asking ❤️❤️❤️🔪 #Jk but seriously please read it ok love you bye

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Reblog to hug the person you reblogged this from and tell them that everything's going to be okay

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Frankly some of you should be hornier over weirder shit. The fear of being too genuine is the enemy of art. Be a bit of a pervert. It's good for the health. Doesn't have to be a sexual thing just own up to being a bit obsessed in some cringe shit it's fine.

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i bet crossing spears with someone to block entry into a location feels so fucking good

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Seriously love trans women. If you are a trans woman love yourself. I know it's hard, I'm not all the way there some weeks myself. But you have to do it. Love your sisters. See yourself in them. In the way their voice sounds. The little spot of stubble she missed. The hunch where she tries to make her shoulders seem not so broad. The baggy clothes because dysphoria just Was Not Having It today. How her eyes like up when you're tender to her. The way she giggles when something hits the girl brain just right. We're all reflections of one another, learn to love the girl in the mirror. We are all we have. I love you.

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love "et cetera" like... theres soooo much more. beyond your wildest imaginations. Not gonna tell u what tho. Move on

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040824 Eclipse

NASA

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My absolute hottest take is that, from a culturally relative perspective, no food is bad. None of it. It's an expression of culture, art, history, ecology, material conditions, subjective taste. It's all inedible pap to somebody and the taste of childhood for someone else. Americans be eating cheesed burger. Pea wet is as good as gravy in Wigan. The French eat snails and the Inuit eat seal, the Germans eat sauerkraut and the Russians drink kvass, the Inca ate cavy and the Romans ate flamingo. People around the world have been eagerly awaiting their serving of simple bread or thin porridge or fermented milk product or pickled whatever-the-fuck since we learned to cook food over fire. We all love the slop we grew up eating. Food is a reflection of millennia of culture and loving human artistic expression. Attempting to extrapolate largely harmless online food banter into actual serious comparative rankings or half-baked critical analyses of cultures based on how much you subjectively don't like what they eat is a miserable way to live. Live a little. Peace and love on the only planet with food.