I am not discussing mere cats and dogs / This was far greater than a simple, summer storm. / The eyes of hurricanes gazed upon this weather / With irresistible envy, strong enough to lay waste to cities / Inhabited by the bold gods of brutality and lust. / Invaded lands cry out, ruptures from the ground / and destruction from the wind. / The deities whisper at night about the fear and echoing, / The screams of thunder colliding aimlessly with wet dirt. / The rain kept falling into the cracks of my ceiling, / And we have finally swept away as its roof caves in. / Scooping water to reach the surface tires my body / And slowly I descend into the deep abyss, only to be / Brought back to consciousness by sharp, red knives / Piercing my spine. The coral apologizes and I forgive. / I am held captive underneath the weather. / The life around me yells bubbly swears about my scaleless skin. / I look towards the onyx clouds floating above us. / Those that crawl on the earth creating that sticky poison. / We murder out of apathy, and with pure rage I confront it. / I scratch at the oil, it defuses and I am engulfed. / I open my mouth wide, air escapes and my body ignites. / The light starts to form as little, white specks, / Like distant stars surrounded by that dark indigo void / The sea contains far more than blue. / Viridian tones bathe in their silky tub / while dandelion hues pass by. / The light grows and takes control of the black mess, / But I am too bright. I frighten the friendly creatures, / And I understand now. Underneath that harsh storm / Lives a community that feels guilt and fear. / I am their mirror, trapped inside a monster.
I whisper secrets, tales, and fables,
My inner self to the garden. I speak
Through fingertips, no words, yet
I spill language into dirt. Things
Never told, my garden knows; doesn’t
Ask, but I feel I must tell. The garden
Answers with blossoms and blooms,
Green of which I envy, as it swells.
Turn to Nature when people are absent. She has the cure for loneliness. She will welcome you like no one else. She will put you into her cradle and accept you for who you are. Her birds will sing a song for you, her winds will blow away your bad thoughts, and her rushing waters will bring calm to your upset mind.
the thing about Bakugou is that, in the limits that his personality allows, he’s soft for Kirishima - he calls him by name, listens to him and always answers him, tries to help him out as best as he can, accepts his help when Kirishima offers it, actively works to make him feel better when he’s down, never yells at him unless it’s an answer to Kirishima’s teasing, has no problems in complimenting him and pointing out his strength, he’s soft for Kirishima
he openly considers him a friend and treats him as such, he cares and doesn’t really try to hide it, though his inexperience in showing that sort of feelings does make him come off as awkward now and again
I guess what I mean to say is it’d be nice if the fandom could remember that, instead of writing him as angry and prickly and downright offensive and uncaring when dealing with what has been recognized by the canon as his best friend and someone he does enjoy the company of over and over again