literally anything at this point

have a cute gif of jaebum bc you’ll never see these on the dash again bc woojin is the worst! first and foremost, i want to thank u all for applyin’ like omg my heart is gonna burst with all this love ur all so cute and i can’t wait to rp with u? anyways, hola hola (stan kard pls and ty, support their debut) i’m ur least fav admin tina and i’m here with this hot mess, thirsty, greasy piece of sh*t woojin who will literally screw anything that moves ok. under the cut are a few points about my sad boi, bad boi, fuccboi so smash the mf like button and i’ll slide into ur ims for some dank plots ok i love u guys bye! tw: depression, substance abuse, abuse, attempted murder

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anonymous asked:

What If one of the fakes had a high school reunion or something like that and just took the crew and it somehow ended in a shoot out with the cops.

Let’s just be clear, it’s not a pride thing. Geoff has never cared what people said about him, not outside a professional sense anyway; he knew exactly who he was, what he was capable of, even before he’d taken an entire city to its knees. So it’s not that he felt the need to prove himself, it’s just that there’s something particular about high school trauma, isn’t there? Something that lingers, even when it shouldn’t, something that emerges from even the most upstanding adults when thrown back together for a reunion, the bullies and the bullied, all desperate to show what they’ve become.

Geoff’s last high school was nothing like he’d ever been to before, a snobby upper-crust hellhole he was only in because his Ma’s third husband pulled some strings, and the other students were quick to point out just how much he didn’t belong. Between the tattoos and the smoking, the lazy looks and slow sneering drawl, it was always all too easy to label Geoff a loser, a drop out, trailer park trash everyone knew would be washing their cars one day. Never mind that he scored higher than most of his cohort even when skipping more or less every class, never mind that he is possibly the most well-read crime-lord in the country, back then he had an image and teenagers are relentless. Not that Geoff was all that phased even at the time, only a year or so away from the day he picked up his first gun and never looked back, but it’s the principal of the thing.

So when an invite forwards through from an email so old he’d forgotten he’d even made it Geoff has to laugh. Then pause, consider, hatch an utterly ridiculous idea, and laugh some more. Because he might not care, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy ruining the night for all the pathetic stuck-up nobodies he went to school with; rubbing your success in everyone’s faces is what reunions are for, after all. The fact that it has a theme, that it is masquerade of all things, really just cements Geoff’s resolve to drag his crew halfway across the country into one of the strangest nights of their lives.

Everyone knows the option to bring a guest to these events is, in reality, the offer to bring a romantic partner, singular, but it isn’t technically stated. There are no rules barring Geoff from RSVP-ing for 7, so that’s exactly what he does. Sure he receives a few increasingly less polite emails suggesting he’d been mistaken but he doesn’t even bother opening them, doesn’t try to clarify that he is bringing his friends, his family, not his entire harem. Let them talk; they’d do it anyway. Plus, it’s not like the Fake’s aren’t all entirely too pleased with the suggestion, cackling hyenas who spend the next few weeks laying it on thick, batting their eyes and blowing Geoff kisses, picking out increasingly absurd meet-cute stories to tell his scandalised classmates. Between creating new identities and playing dress up in masks and suits they couldn’t be happier.

Masks or not they catch every eye in the room when they make their entrance and why wouldn’t they; Geoff and his unusual request must have been the talk of the rumour mill and identity hidden or not clearly this must be Geoff, it’s not like anyone else brought along 6 dates. As stage whispers hit a dull roar it’s obvious no one was prepared for what they were seeing, perhaps imagined instead stained tank tops and a string of strung-out baby mama’s, not expensively tailored suits and an attractively refined entourage. Paying the noise no heed Geoff swans into the room with Jack looking elegant on one arm, Gavin at his most Ken-doll glamorous tucked under the other, flanked on either side by Ryan, Michael, Jeremy and Ray, all dressed to impress.

Shock and jealousy aren’t good looks on anyone, let alone rich brats turned elitist yuppies, so Geoff’s classmates behave just as poorly as he’d anticipated, years and newfound maturity doing nothing to stop the tittering laughter, the sneers and judgmental looks, fake pleasantry and condescending questions. But then, his crew didn’t exactly play nice with them either.

Ray and Jeremy immediately beeline to the food table and bar, respectively, and each set themselves up and settle in for the night; loud, obnoxious and tactlessly talking about everyone around them. When asked about themselves or their relationship to Geoff they’re both frustratingly vague, Jeremy chattering away without saying much at all and Ray simply staring people down until they can’t bear the tension.

Michael and Ryan set off together to explore the room but quickly separate to accommodate their vastly different methods of surveillance. Ryan skulks into the background, ducking numerous attempts to catch his interest in favour of fading into unlit corners and empty nooks, frightening the life out of anyone trying to slip away for some private time. Michael, on the other hand, seems determined to be the life of the party, cheerfully making conversation only to laugh in the face of every so-called achievement, ruffling feathers and causing major offence wherever he goes.

Gavin slinks off like a man on a mission and doesn’t come back for over an hour, offering no explanation for the absence beyond a dangerously self-satisfied smirk. His work becomes obvious soon enough anyway, once the yelling starts; Geoff’s two main high-school tormentors, mentioned only in passing stories over the years, simultaneously having huge, public, relationship-ending blow ups with each of their significant others. What are the odds? Across the hall Gavin laughs, all tinkling glass and sparkling charm, smoothly working the room like Michael’s mirror opposite.

Jack stays at Geoff’s side all night, hackles raised into something abnormally cold and unimpressed any time someone comes up to speak to them, protective instincts in full force no matter how often Geoff claims to be unaffected. He fills her in on all the worst gossip about those who approach, and as the night progresses and general unease begins to spread Jack mellows, sinking back into something sweet and mocking, somehow even more unsettling playing docile arm-candy than she was rabid guard dog.

Throughout the night the Fake AH Crew remain a key topic of every casual conversation; they might have been regardless, even this far from Los Santos no one can get enough of their scandals, but with the huge heist pulled just last week there was no way to avoid it, everyone has their two cents, their praise and condemnation. It’s too funny, the whole crew killing themselves trying not to break character, to laugh or correct or manipulate the conversation but all their self-control is well rewarded in the end.

Half the room removed their masks less than an hour into the night; too difficult to eat and talk and drink in, too vain to keep their hard earned looks covered, so it’s not at all strange when the Fake’s start to follow suit. Jeremy and Ray start it, the newest member and the one caught on camera the least often, casually dropping their masks mid-conversation. They each get a confused squint or two, a double glance, a few individuals trying to place them, remember how they’d met before, why they were so familiar.

Next came Gavin and Michael, having goaded each other out onto the dance-floor they were playing as much as they were moving to the music, laughing and grappling and generally making a bit of a scene. They snatch off each other’s masks as they play and the looks double, because alone they’re each distinctive but together, together, people have seen those faces together, somewhere they’ve seen them and so often together..

Last is Jack and Geoff, more graceful than their counterparts and moving with far more purpose they reveal their faces in the centre of the room and, like a party trick, they instantly catch the whole room’s attention. Out of context, in ones and twos where they don’t belong, the members of the FAHC could be mistaken but no one in the country would fail to recognise Ramsey and Patillo, the kingpin and his right hand, rulers of the most well-known gang in the US. And here they stand, casually mingling at a high school reunion.

In the calm before the storm the crew gravitates back towards one another, can almost see the cogs turning around them, the lightbulbs flickering on in a slow ripple spreading out across the room, disbelief and the first hint of horror swirling together as people start unconsciously reaching for their phones. As Ryan slips back out and wanders over, the last still masked, always masked, the chatter seems to crescendo then crash into something still and almost silent as a room full of entitled trust-fund babies recognise their own terror.

Finally uncovered and flanked by his family Geoff’s grin creeps across his face, slow and violent and more confirmation than anyone needed as he lets the oppressive tension sit for a long moment, arms spreading out to his sides like a magician revealing a clever trick before he breaks the silence; Surprise motherfuckers.

Guns are pulled from jackets and from there it’s all running and screaming, no honour or courage, just a stampede for the exits to the sound of cackling laughter and the occasional aimless pot-shot. The Fake’s aren’t looking for lives, not worth the hassle really, and this job certainly has no monetary reward beyond the wallets Geoff’s filthy little thieves have no doubt absconded with, but the fear in the air is delightful and even the sound of incoming sirens can’t ruin the mood. If anything it only hypes them up further, all savage grins and ramping excitement as they make for doors, reloading their weapons and pumping themselves up for a whole new police force to terrorise, Geoff’s magnificent little miscreants.

On the way out they pass a wall of yearbook photos, blown up large and captioned with names and all the old superlative awards. Ryan stumbles to a halt and snorts, snatching one off the wall and tucking it into his jacket to take back to the penthouse, though not before flashing the Lads a glance at that all too recognisable face, sending them into peals of screeching laughter as they pour out into the night. Geoffrey Fink; Least likely to succeed. 

huffingtonpost.com
Watch The Speech That Should End The Confederate Monuments Debate For Good
New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu's address makes it even harder to defend statues honoring the "cult of the Lost Cause."

It is a lot of work trying to stay on top of the pace of the news cycle: horrific attacks, like explosion that murdered 22 people and injured 59 in Manchester; the “Great Unraveling” of Trump’s scandal-ridden administration; the dismantling of progressive and beneficial programs, policies, and institutions while malicious and regressive legislation is being passed; and on and on… All of it important, all of it pressing. But if you can make the time, I recommend watching, listening to, or reading the powerful speech by New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu in the link above.

And to compare and contrast, check out Mississippi state representative Karl Oliver’s now-deleted response to the removal of these Confederate monuments here, calling for the—emphasis his, in all caps—“LYNCHING” of the Black city council members who voted to back the removal. That is a very specific word in a very specific context, meant to spread terror and violence with the goal of submission in the name of racial supremacy. The kicker is that, as a friend of mine stated, “We’ve officially reached the point where you can literally say anything and face no repercussions at election time. This guy is probably in zero danger of losing his job.”

There are many false narratives and historical fantasies that the majority of us Americans live under, arguably more than we open our eyes to—or educate kids on—the ugly truths of how and why we got to this place in history. As I’ve written on this blog before, I wish I had received more education on this huge and crucial swath of American history as I attended public school in the South, but most of it was glossed over… Kudos to the New Orleans City Council, Mayor Landrieu, and everyone else who worked to unveil this truth and stamp out oppression. Sadly, it will continue to thrive despite these efforts, but efforts like these must continue, including holding people like Karl Oliver accountable.

6

∙ He (D. Pedro I) could not help but respond to her great love for him, her good nature, sweetness, and considerateness (…) From the voluminous and frank correspondence that Dona Leopoldina carried with her relatives in Europe, it appears that Dom Pedro gave up tavern hopping and womanizing for some time after the consummation of their marriage. She begged her father not to believe the scandalous tales that he might hear about her husband. (…) He could be sharp-tongued and mean, but normally he was good humored and generous. (Dom Pedro: The Struggle for Liberty in Brazil and Portugal, 1798-1834 //  Neill W. Macaulay) 

2

officially, i have no idea what im doing anymore but im not gonna stop

when i was like 7 or something we had the worst (best) winter ever for snow. like i remember going out in my yard to play and the snow was literally 3 times taller than me and walking down pathways to the car and stuff it was like walking through a labyrinth with no roof because i literally couldnt see anything except for straight ahead. there was one point when my entire town was shut down for a week or two because there was too much snow and the plows couldnt clear it off the roads and i had rented pokemon stadium 2 from a game store and got to play it for free the whole time B)

IN MY HEAD I DO EVERYTHING RIGHT
WHEN YOU CALL, I’LL FORGIVE AND NOT FIGHT
BECAUSE OURS ARE THE MOMENTS I PLAY IN THE DARK
WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT COME HOME TO MY HEART

IN YOUR CAR THE RADIO UP
IN YOUR CAR THE RADIO UP
WE KEEP TRYNA TALK ABOUT US
SLOW MOTION I’M WATCHING OUR LOVE
I’LL BE YOUR QUIET AFTERNOON CRUSH
BE YOUR VIOLENT OVERNIGHT RUSH
MAKE YOU CRAZY OVER MY TOUCH

BUT IT’S JUST A SUPERCUT OF US

That’s How a Moment Lasts Forever - Post-BatB Oneshot

“Grandfather?”

“Mmm?”

“Why do you keep so many tea sets?”

The old man chuckled, leaning back in his armchair as he watched his littlest grandchild.  While her two older siblings had chosen to play outside in the snow, she stared at his bookcase, which, instead of being filled with books, was lined with teapots and teacups made of wood, porcelain, and china.

“Well, you know your father’s a potter; he gives me the ones that no one wants.”

“But do you even use them?” the girl asked.  “They’ve got chips and cracks in them.  They wouldn’t make good tea.”

“You are definitely your mother’s daughter,” the old man replied.  “I suppose…I keep them because they deserve a home, a place to belong.”

The girl raised her eyebrows.  “You make it sound like they’re alive.”

“Well…” The old man’s voice took on a spooky tone.  “Sometimes they talk to me at night.”

The girl laughed. “No they don’t!”

“No, they don’t,” he agreed, laughing in return.  “But can’t an old man have his hobbies?  I like antiques!  I’m a collector, always have been!  You see that?” He pointed at a tiny, intricately decorated box on the mantel above the fireplace.  “It plays a lullaby if you open it. The king’s grandfather made that for me when I was a boy.”

“Really?” The tea sets were momentarily forgotten as the little girl ran over to the mantel and seized the box in her hands.  

“Careful!” The man raised a gnarled hand, but there was no need; the girl set the box down with the utmost care.  She lifted open the box, revealing a tiny, incredibly detailed replica of a rose.  The rest of the inside was gold and cornflower blue, with a castle painted on the inside of the lid.  She located the winding handle on the side, and with a nod from her grandfather, wound it up and let it play.

At once, a little melody, strong but sweet, began to emit from the box, causing the rose to rotate slowly in place.  The girl sat, entranced by the box, while the man closed his eyes and hummed along.

“You won’t find a box like that anywhere else,” he finally said.  “That’s why it’s special.”

The girl waited until the last notes faded away, then looked up at her grandfather to ask him a question.  But what she saw startled her into concern rather than curiosity.

“You’re crying, Grandfather!”  She rushed forward, drawing out her handkerchief to wipe his tears away.  The song was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t a song that should be cried over!

“Ah, well…” He smiled and let her wipe away his tears.  “You are very kind.  My mother used to sing that song for me.”  He didn’t need to say the rest.  

“Oh,” the girl whispered.  “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” the old man reassured her, smiling.  “Besides, I let that old box play every day, and you don’t see me crying all the time, do you?”

“No,” the girl answered, grinning.  “You’re very cheerful.”

“Well that’s good,” he exclaimed.  “I’m glad I didn’t grow up to be an old grump like my father did.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes; she admiring the music box, and he gazing at the tea sets in the bookcase that he kept so well polished that the imperfections shone in the light.

“Do you want to know the real reasons behind the tea sets?” he asked suddenly, waking the girl from her short-lived reverie.  “Why I look after them like I do?  You have to promise not to laugh or walk away.”

The little one shrugged, but sidled up to her grandfather’s armchair.  “Okay.  Tell me.”

“Do you promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.” Her eyes gazed up at him, wide and trusting.

“It’s because I used to be one myself.”

The girl sat there, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in surprise.  She wanted to ask if it was a joke, but the old man looked completely serious.  And she was just at that age where she was learning to take care of herself, but still young enough to believe in fairy stories, if they were spun the right way.

“How?”

The old man’s lips curled into a real, genuine smile, one that only children would understand.  “Magic.”

“What happened?” the girl’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Well…sit back a little, and I’ll tell you,” the man replied.  “I was your age when this story took place.  It started with a spoiled prince, an old enchantress, and a young farm girl who saved us all…”


“You used to work at the castle?” the girl said after he had finished his tale.

“Well, it was mostly my mother; she was the head housekeeper.  I followed in the steps of my father, became a potter, and when I had your father, I taught him as well.  Hopefully your older siblings will carry on the family business for me.”

“I bet they will.”  The girl slumped in her chair.  But soon she straightened up again.  “Was the queen really an inventor?”

“Best in the world,” he replied.  “She’s the reason why you have a fountain behind your house for laundry.”

“Is the Enchantress still alive?”

“I have no idea. Probably.”

“Were the musicians really world-famous?”

“Of course they were.  Why would they lie?”

“Maybe to gain favor with the prince.”

“No, they’ve been in the paper before.  I have clippings, if you’re really that skeptical.”

“Wow…” For a moment she was lost in her own daydreams of what it would be like living with famous people.  But then another thought stole her mind away.  “Could Plumette really fly? Like a bird?”

“Even after the curse she could float for a while, if she wanted to.”

“And Lumiere?”

“What do you want me to say about him?  The man was an eccentric old codger right up until the day he…”  The man paused for a moment, lost in the past.  “Until he died.”

The girl pondered the word in silence, while the other sat in his armchair, thinking of times and thoughts that his granddaughter would never understand, no matter how much she listened, or how much she learned.  She would never learn to appreciate time as he had, especially now, after all these years.  And he was the last one, the one given the most time to contemplate what had happened.  Everyone else had already passed on.  

Sometimes, they would come to him in his dreams, as young as he remembered them that day: newly human and full of happiness.  Lumiere would ask him how old age was treating him, Chapeau would clap him on the back and comment on his family, his mother would wrap her arms around him and tell him how proud she was of him.  How proud they all were of him.

But Cogsworth always told him the time, how time was running out.  Tick-tock, there’s not much time left.  And though he always asked what Cogsworth meant, the old majordomo never explained himself, only kept repeating the same thing over and over again.  Even now, Cogsworth was still as incessant as a real clock.

And yet…though he had time well-spent…it never seemed like enough.  Well, not until now, as his youngest grandchild sat next to him, visions of magic and curses dancing in her head, the very age he was when the curse was cast.  Filled with the wonder of a story that would die with him.

“I have a special task for you, little one,” he murmured, and the girl’s eyes lit up.

“What is it?” she asked.  “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t forget the story I’ve told you today.  Not a single word of it.  Write it down somewhere, make it a book.  And tell your grandchildren.  And have them tell theirs.”

“All right,” the child said.  “Is it that important?”

“I don’t want anyone to forget them,” he continued.  “They taught me a lesson; I am sure they will teach others too.  You’ve probably been told that nothing lasts forever, haven’t you?”

“That’s right,” she said.  “Mother told me that.”

“Well…this story only happened in a moment, out of all the time in the world.  And when I die, the days I’ve lived will disappear.  But now that I’ve told you, you can tell other people, and those people can tell other people, and the story will last longer than any of us.”

He wasn’t much of a storyteller at this age, but he could do this much for his family.  He didn’t live his whole life just to die without people really knowing what happened all those years ago.  It wasn’t just some curse; lessons were learned, and love was restored to the castle.  

“Okay.  I promise I’ll do it.  And my children will do it too.”  

Chip smiled and closed his eyes.  He could picture them now, in the castle, carrying out their duties, royalty and service alike.  Some would call them ordinary, but to him they were the most important people in the world.  They didn’t deserve to be fleeting.  They deserved to live on.  Through story, through song, through legend.

That’s how a moment lasts forever…when our song lives on.

so my girlfriend and i are gonna be homeless if we can’t find a place to rent out in ventura county by March 3rd and today is February 28th :-) if you have an extra room or anything honestly like even a garage that we might be able to stay in just until we find a permanent place to stay?? im emailing literally every property within our budget but NOTHING is working out!!!! i’ll take literally anything at this point i swear to god.. if u can’t help maybe u could reblog this post? that would rly help? also if you wanna help us out, you could maybe send us some money? my paypal is broken though so the only thing i have is snapcash lol but literally ANYTHING helps at this point!!!! please signal boost!!!!!!!

On Alisha Diphda

I love Alisha. I really do. In fact, she might actually be my favourite female character in Tales of Zestiria (it’s so hard to pick favourites in Zestiria, since everyone’s so amazing and lovable). She’s kind, responsible, and fully capable of standing up for her morals and doing what she believes is right. Her strength and resolve are truly inspiring, and despite everything she goes through, she somehow manages to keep pushing forward for what she believes is important to her and the people she cares about. I actually see a lot of myself in Alisha–her idealism and slight naivety are things I can relate to, and her strength and persistence remind me to keep my head up and never give up on the things I value and believe in.

(rant tucked under cut)

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anonymous asked:

Top 5 best sexual tension in hq??

This is the best top 5 for Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

Warning: this top 5 is heavily influenced by my experience as a smut writer. 

1. Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The iwaoi royal deluxe ship wins by a landslide. You can either have sweet sweet loving or hardcore sex, it doesn’t matter because they can make anything work. Every single kink, every single au. Oikawa is flirty and seductive while Iwa is extremely strong and passionate (harsh Iwa and Oikawa who lets him dispose of his body as he pleases always a big yes), together they’re an explosive mix and overall a blessing for every single smut writer out there. 

Originally posted by oikahwatooru

The subtitle is wrong, he said: I’m going to make you scream my name later, Shittykawa

2. Kuroo and Tsukishima“They kinda share that really” aka the only couple that I can make work both ways, if you know what I mean. Actually, Kurotsuki is the pair I have most fun with when it comes to kinks (especially with bsdm). They are equally teasing and dominant, but at the same time they like when the other is in charge. They’re the worst when it comes to fluff, but if you’re in the mood for an insanely intense and deep smut scene, they’ll never ever let you down. Hottest couple, hands down. 

Originally posted by uver-chin

3. Bokuto and Akaashi. Ah, Bokuaka. These two are an interesting couple, too bad it’s really hard for me to find smut that I enjoy writing due too the characterization problems. They have a unique sexual tension, fueled by Akaashi’s glacial sex appeal and by Bokuto’s heat that can make him melt in a moment. My Bokuto treats every single kink like it’s the most natural thing, he’s not embarrassed by anything (literally, anything), he’s impulsive, playful and powerful to the point of not being able to handle his strength properly, but at the same time is extremely selfless and aware of Akaashi’s needs. And Akaashi…well, he likes to be controlled, played and spanked by him…so much. A+ awkward after sex fluff. 

Originally posted by silvermusichunter

Thirsty, Akaashi?

4. Daichi and Sugawara. Finding characters to make the domestic-long-term-boyfriends sex work is incredibly difficult (established relationship is the hardest au in my opinion), so thank you very much for them. It’s a couple that gets off on how much they love each other, spiced it up with the fact that our beloved Suga is a sinnamonroll personified.They win the best fluff award, but this goes without saying. They’re a classic and, like all the classics, their perfect sexual tension immortal. 

Originally posted by vikuuri

5. Hinata and Kageyama (eventually). I’m not a fan of Kagehina smut. At all. I can’t read it, I can’t write it. I’m still in the stage where my favorite boys just kiss, cuddle and hold hands, but I can’t deny that the tension is there and more they’ll grow, the more the bond they already have is going to grow deeper and deeper and would probably explode into some mind blowing smut. I’m gonna let them explore while I wait for them to reach their 3rd years, then we can’t talk about this more. 

Originally posted by craziiwolf

Thank you for your message and happy Valentine’s Day to you and to all the OTPs! 

Ask me my top 5 things!

optimisticcandydream  asked:

Can I share the reason why I ship Molly and Lestrade? When I first watched Sherlock I ended up randomly watching The Sign of Three and l thought that Molly and Lestrade were together and were worried about Sherlock like they were his parents lol - I was surprised when I learned that they weren't together (l wasn't even aware of tjlc or anything at this point)

This is LITERALLY the scene that made me ship them SO HARD. They are SO precious together, OMG <3 I’m so sad that they completely disregarded this little relationship they were building on since ASiB for…destroying Molly’s character completely.

The Lesson of Endurance

Alright so I really enjoyed that last chapter for several reasons, but I really loved the lesson that it brought to light.

Kirishima, feeling like he doesn’t have any particular techniques that put him on level with the other students, remembers the advice All Might gave him. Kirishima’s quirk is essentially the ability to harden his skin, making him very difficult to injure. There isn’t much room for variation. 

It’s Bakugou who tells Kiri that there’s more than one type of strength. There’s more to being a hero than being able to just power through situations.

There is strength in enduring.

All Might’s story, and Toshinori’s story, is one of endurance. He endured being a quirkless boy, he endured the brutal training Gran Torino gave him, he endured the aftermath of his first fight with All For One, he endured watching his health and ability to be a hero deteriorate, he endured that final fight at Kamino Ward, and now he’s enduring his physical weakness and the prediction of his death hanging over his head.

Whether or not he meant to, Toshinori taught his students the strength that is inherent in just getting through a bad situation. And because he was able to endure, he won. That’s what Bakugou was trying to tell Kirishima, in his usual Bakugou way.

Kirishima takes it to heart …

… and pushes himself to the limit, surpassing what he had been capable of previously, and becomes nigh-unbreakable. His quirk is literally ‘endurance,’ from a certain point of view. He can endure anything, and come out the other side. 

So, yeah, Toshinori has taught his students that it’s important to further yourself in order to get past any obstacle, but at Kamino Ward he also taught them the importance of being able to endure something you can’t change. 

That’s probably one of the most important things he could have taught them.