HOT TAKE: BAKUGOU CAN NOT TRULY EXCEL AS A CHARACTER, LET ALONE A HERO, UNTIL HE FULLY ACKNOWLEDGES,

Generation Z is "TOO YOUNG"

You say I am too young.

Too young to be a feminist.

Too young to know my own sexuality.

Too young to be depressed.

Too young to hate.

Too young to protest.

Too young to be an activist.

Too young.

Too stupid.

Too naive.

And you are right.

I am too young.

Too young to be scared of finding me or my LGBTQ friends killed, abandoned, or sent off to a conversion camp because all they wanted was love and acceptance but instead they found hate and rejection because they were “disgusting sinners” who were just “confused”.

Too young to be sobbing with such loss and grief over people who were killed and died too young because no one would help them because all of their cries were “fake” because they were too young to know “real” pain.

Too young to be scarred, bruised, bloody, and beaten by a war I did not start or choose to fight in.

Too young to be surrounded by people telling me and others what gender is right and wrong, and what race is right and wrong.

Too young to be scared to go on a walk alone. Too young to be feeling the need to cover up more than necessary and walk across a street when a man is walking on the same side as me.

You say I am too young.

And you are not wrong.

I am too young.

Too young for

H O M O P H O B I A

R A C I S M

S E X I S M

R A P E

S E L F  H A R M

S U I C I D E

G U N  V I O L E N C E

and

S C H O O L  S H O O T I N G S

To be normal to me

I should not be so desensitized by this violent reality.

So yes, I am too young.

But you cannot blame me for my hyper awareness of our reality.

My generation was born with information at our fingertips

And we have been told to sit still and be quiet

Because the adults were talking

But you had your chance

It is now our turn to speak

And our turn to fight

Because our rage is pure fire

And with every ragged breath we take

Our lungs get more shredded by all of the hate and misery

Gen Z is the gayest, most trans, most racially diverse, most atheist generation of all time

And we are going to fucking change the world.

You will embrace change or die on the wrong side of history.

i want to go home pls you can take me home now

When your card declines at therapy so they bring out your mom in her early twenties pregnant with her first child (it's going to ruin her life forever and you can't help her)

Hmm….

Squinting Intensifies

Is Horikoshi telling us something….?

'my hands are my heart' by gabriel orozco, 1991 in art21: art in the twenty-first century (2003)

I keep forgetting what I’m doing in the middle of doing it. Keep walking into a room only to go in circles confused. Boxes are half-packed. An old sweater is evidence in a case I can’t close. Smells like spring sweat and laundry detergent and nights I didn’t cry. Smells like someone else’s life. I fold it, I unfold it. Sit on the floor and let the carpet burn into my skin until I remember who I am. I made a home here. Multiplying myself by one; I'm the exact same number but a process has occurred. 

Moving in for the summer. To the house with the hole in the door and the woman with the tongue of a snake. The walls listen. Time has passed and new people love me. 

I want to be a lighthouse. A warning and a welcome. I know my existence is temporary. And so is yours. The fact that we eventually gave parts of ourselves to people who may only be passing through our life is even more absurd than the fact that I can still recall a stranger’s favorite movie from years ago. It’s true what they say; a place is only as good as the people in it. I miss you. 

I quit smoking two weeks ago. But the craving still curls in my throat like something half-alive. My lungs taste like promises I don’t want to make, I can't keep. A ritual, in lullaby. Warning signs I keep ignoring. A ghosted friend, it’s waiting for you to come back home. Maybe healing isn’t healing, maybe you just learn to carry your rot more quietly. You are not who you were last november. You’re safe; it’s only change. 

You walk through the world reading patterns like omens. Separate harm from hurt, sickness from survival. Studying monsters or trying to understand your parents. I’m both the predator and the prey, I’ll catch myself then eat myself whole.

I’m nineteen. Which means I know everything and nothing at the same time; an apology, an excuse. The universe is an ongoing explosion. That’s where you live. In an explosion. We absolutely don’t know what living is. Sometimes atoms just get very haunted. That’s us. When an explosion explodes hard enough, dust wakes up and thinks about itself. And writes about it too, apparently.

Sometimes I lie to my therapist because I don’t want her to think it’s getting bad again. Sometimes I cry while doing the dishes because the clinks means someone is throwing them. My ribs are setting wrong in my body. How did that sweet little girl turn into this horrid creature? everything is better when it’s private.

In the middle of becoming. I keep dreaming about the idea of home. blankets and fairy lights and spotify rain playlists and the soft. There’s something soft in me that refuses to die. It is almost time that I change shape again. It’s out of my control.

I don’t mind the walk.

It’s summer and I’m getting better. hopefully. Dandelions are starting to swell at my feet, seas going over hills. I've missed the yellow. The wishes of childhood. where had it been all this time?

wanted to join this heart-wrenching jayvik valstoick scene redraw trend

isabelle i literally have no idea what you’re talking about

…He has spent several years of his life getting used to be alone, so he sometimes needed for people to go away for a while.

But of course, the bane of Izuku’s existence chose this moment to warp right behind him.

“Why do I always find you on roofs?” All for One asked, still holding an umbrella. Wherever he had come from, it was still raining there.

“Anyone” by @gentrychild

(click for better quality; reference)