#I hate being a Sentimental Loser

[doridoripawaa]

not me posting a long hiatus announcement on a side drabbles/headcanon blog as if anyone will notice or care that I'm gone lol

literally I'm so insignificant in that fandom these days that it does not Matter

[mercuryislove]

so i've been Not Drinking since december 12th (i will admit i've had a shower beer here and there) but tonight i had a hashtag Real Drink for the first time in four months and let me tell you. it's not even fun to drink anymore. am i maturing? maybe i just like to be sober and miserable instead of drunk and miserable

[trans-androgyne]

I want there to be fewer MRAs. Do you want that too? Do you want to know what helps us get there, from a feminist perspective?

You may not like my answer: acknowledge that sexism can affect men. Recognize that, although the patriarchy generally privileges men, they are also subject to restrictive gender roles that are harmful to them (shunning all things “feminine,” not showing emotions, being protectors/strong, never admitting being victims of SA/IPV, having to “earn” their manhood, etc.).

Give young men a place other than the right-wing manosphere to be heard about the issues they experience. If these grifters are telling them “only we understand how hard it is to be a man, the left hates you for your gender” and they look to the left and see “men claiming they have ‘problems’ are losers who just hate women, all men are trash,” do you think they’re going to be drawn towards or away from feminism?

Before you leave an angry response: no, this does not mean to center men instead of women in feminism, it just means including them at all. No, it is not “coddling” men to treat them with human dignity, you can and should continue to hold them (and every other gender) responsible for unpacking sexist beliefs. No, this does not mean it is every individual woman’s and feminist’s responsibility to prioritize men’s issues, it just means at the least not shutting them down when they do speak up about sexism. No, it is not “not all men-ing” to point out that “men are trash” sentiments hurt the feminist movement rather than helping it. Ask questions before you make accusations on this post, please. I have been abused by men too, I get it, this isn’t easy to hear.

[cameronspecial]

Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases. 

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.” 

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,” she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.” 

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.” 

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall. 

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it. 

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity. 

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

getting pissed about the love triangle again, so here are my ramblings

I hate it cause everyone's characterization gets fucked over implicitly because each of them turn into the worst versions of themselves

Jean is labeled as the slut. A dull and one-dimensional plot device to Logan's angst, an apathetic cheater to Scott's pain

Scott is labeled as the loser. A butt of the joke to Logan's "victory" (I hate even saying it cause Jean isn't a prize but thats how writers hype it up), a guy who's pathetic enough to still be there whenever Jean wants him again

Logan is labeled as the homewrecker. A man Jean "can fix" because of her psychic abilities, an absolute asshole in Scott's story

Everything about the love triangle infuriates me cause they're all such amazing characters for one thing, not to mention their relationships with one another

Like I can't stress enough how much I LOVE Jean and Scott's love. In most narratives, they were high school sweethearts. They were the first students and a part of the first team. They fell hopelessly and deeply in love with each other because how couldn't they!

They were kids tormented by how freakish they were, and each one of them held onto the other to become their anchor. Echoing sentiments like "no, you're not a freak, you're just YOU and there's nothing wrong with that."

Also, it's so cute in the very original run of xmen Scott didn't ask out Jean for AGES and ppl bullied the absolute fuck outta him for it. Cause Scott's whole thing was that he never thought he was good enough for her. But Jean waited for him. And idk what to say other than that Imma real sucker for friends to lovers and the power of being an absolute simp for your girl

As for their friendships with Logan -- it makes me so sad that it's soooooooooo overshadowed or even nonexistent cause of the love triangle

Cause Jean being there for Logan when he's dealing with his memory loss IS really sweet. If romance is taken out of the equation, I think it's such a powerful testament to their platonic love for each other. Logan allowing Jean into his mind and knowing she won't think less of him is incredibly vulnerable on his part. Jean persisting to help him because she cares about him and emphasizing he IS more man than animal is so deeply kind of her

But they shouldn't be in romantic love with each other because of this. It creates an INSANE "I love my therapist -- I mean girlfriend -- I mean Scott's girlfriend" vibe. Just...... gross dude.

As for Scott and Logan's friendship, they're so funny dude. Just a slapstick good cop, bad cop comedy duo. Eagle scout uncle that gives you genuinely good life advice and that weird uncle who smokes cigs, rides a bike, and tells you how to punch properly so you don't break your hand

They just have SO MUCH POTENTIAL to be good friends and it makes me genuinely sad that all three of them are forced into a love triangle. They're all such interesting ppl that are unique opposing or foil characters to each other

They all deserve better than to be the slut, the homewrecker, and the loser

[slut4msby]

i miss you. iwaizumi hajime x reader

+ tags & warnings; pure fluff (for a change) :3

+ a/n; i need myself a hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer so bad rn its not even funny i want him so badly and i could treat him so well, he can take out any stress and/or anger on me pls i love hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer pls let me be like ur pretty little house wife hajime iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer

“I miss you, Hajime. I miss you so much it’s not even funny. The whole house feels so empty without you here. How has it only been three nights…” You ramble through the phone to your fiance. He had left to go on a work trip to a very important match. You and Iwaizumi both knew there was no way he was getting out of it.

“Mhm? Is that right darling?” He responded, “I wish you were here with me…” Iwaizumi sounded exhausted from the strenuous exercise and work he was doing. You wanted to take care of him like you would always do after his long weeks. Sitting down together, you giving him a back massage, him rambling on about his day. It was one of your favourite intimate moments to spend with your partner. “Laying here with me, in my arms. Kissing me…” 

“Hajime, you get so clingy when you are lonely.” You chuckle. Despite being a tall and well-built masculine man. He was always a massive cutie, and you adored his soft side. It always felt so personal in contrast to the version of Iwaizumi everyone else saw. He cared so much about not only you but everyone. 

“Mhm, can’t help it.” 

“Whatever, you big loser. I’m gonna head to bed now, I’ll talk to you in the morning, yeah?”

“Of course, darling. Sleep well, I love you.”

“I love you too, Haji.”

You hate to admit it but that night was the hardest night yet. Something about how clingy Iwaizumi was tonight sent butterflies to your stomach. Your big beefy boyfriend's weakness was you. His pretty little fiance. Your bed felt empty, lacking the usual warmth from Hajime’s proximity, leaving a noticeable void behind you.

It had now been two nights since that phone call. Your eyes open the next morning, waking up to the familiar tone of the empty house. Despite the day ahead, thoughts of Iwaizumi linger in your mind. You missed him more than ever right now, all you wanted was to feel the embrace of your partner. 

As the evening approaches, you find yourself yearning for the comforting sound of his voice. Dialling his number, you eagerly wait for him to pick up. The exhaustion from his work trip is evident in his tone, but the warmth in his voice brings a sense of relief.

"Hajime, how was your day?" You inquire.

"Long and tiring," he sighs, "but I can't wait to come home."

"I can't wait to see you, Haji. The house feels incomplete without you, I feel incomplete without you" you confess, a genuine sentiment underlying your words.

"I feel the same way, darling. I miss you more than words can express," he admits, his voice softening.

“I need you, Hajime.”

“I know, Y/N. I’m not any better than you.” Hechuckles in a deep, hearty manner.

God his laugh could bring you back from the dead with how it makes your body feel. 

The call ended once again for the fifth night in a row, only two more nights to go. This was the longest amount of time you and Iwaizumi had spent apart from each other since getting together. What you didn;t know was the mental toll it had on Hajime. He had initially anticipated being the strong one in this situation, but in reality, he would willingly abandon any commitment just to be with you at that moment. 

As part of the cycle you wake up again. In an empty bed, once again. Craving the touch of Iwaizumi, craving his presence. You missed waking up to him, even when he was in a deep slumber. His face soft, hair a mess. He looked ethereal, more ethereal than the vacant sheets and pillows that now occupy his usual place. 

You turn and look at your bedside table, on it is a photo frame, a photo of you and Hajime from your high school graduation. The day he had expressed his feelings to you. With a wistful sigh, you trace your fingers along the edge of the frame, reminiscing about the moment captured. As you place the photo down and get up, move out to the kitchen. You stand in front of your coffee machine and stand there as the espresso pours out. Next to the coffee machine sat Iwaizumi’s mug. The mug he would use every morning, as you two would sit cuddled up on the couch before the day started, just sitting and basking in the feeling of being with each other. It was a large blue mug, nothing special but it belonged to Iwaizumi Hajime.

You take your usual seat on the couch, turning on the TV to whatever shitty news station was last left on. You try paying attention to the weather or whatever, she was talking about. Before it moved onto the sports section, more specifically volleyball. You look around at the familiar faces of Hajime’s team, but no sight of Hajime. You were hoping maybe you could catch a glimpse of your boyfriend on the screen, but nothing. You let out a sigh, before taking another sip from the mug in front of you.

You are truly in a world of your own when you get interrupted by the door opening. You had sworn you had locked the door, you freeze still. 

“Goodbye cruel world.” You think to yourself.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice says softly, your head darting around to see someone standing in the doorway, removing his shoes. Not just anyone, your someone. 

“HAJIME?!” You shout with excitement.

Your heart skips a beat as you leap off the couch, abandoning all composure. There, standing in the doorway, is Iwaizumi Hajime – your massive, cutie of a boyfriend who was supposed to be away on a work trip. Disbelief and joy flood your senses as you rush towards him, practically throwing yourself into his waiting arms.

"Hajime, you're back!" you exclaim, your voice a mixture of surprise and delight.

He chuckles, his strong arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "Couldn't stay away any longer, could I?"

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you pull back slightly to look at him. "But the match? The work trip?"

“I wrapped things up early for you.”

“They let you?” You questioned.

“Told them I was sick.”

“You can’t just lie like that, Hajime.” You say playful hitting his arm.

"Turns out, I couldn't bear to be apart from you either.” He says kissing your head, “and technically not a lie, I was sick of not seeing you, darling.”

A surge of emotions overwhelms you, and you can't help but pepper his face with excited kisses. Iwaizumi responds with laughter, his deep and hearty laugh filling the room. The void that haunted the past nights dissipates, replaced by the warmth of his presence.

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Missed you too much. Couldn't resist coming back to my pretty little fiancée."

As you both settle on the couch, Iwaizumi takes the mug from the coffee table, the familiar blue one he always used. "Missed this mug," he remarks with a smirk.

With a playful eye roll, you reply, "Yeah, well, I missed you using it."

As the TV continues to drone on in the background, you find yourself caught up in the joy of the unexpected reunion. The cycle that seemed endless has been broken, and the empty bed, the vacant mug, and the lingering void are now filled with the presence of Iwaizumi.

©slut4msby.

[sabotourist]

Some thoughts on season 19

This is probably going to be one of the most personal things I ever post on social media. But I have some thoughts.

Sarge and Doc died. Doc wasn't even killed on-screen. Was barely even mentioned until the end. He died having only saved two people in his entire career as a medic. Sarge died, and Donut wasn't even there to see it happen.

Was he off grieving Doc? Was he just doing other stuff? I don't know. But he was gone.

Why was he actually gone? Probably for budget reasons. Time constraints. Studio trouble and issues with the engine or model or whatever else. Writing constraints that forced Donut and Doc into such secondary roles. Into dying off screen. Into not even being there when two people you care so much about die.

But like, how much of that was actually in the narrative's control? They had these limitations to write around, and it put these characters in situations where they couldn't be in narratively satisfying roles.

In some ways, it's the most brutal depiction of what life is like.

When I was 14, I lost touch with my best friend. I just didn't keep my phone on me often at the time. He died. I think, if he had lived, he would have gone on to do some absolutely amazing things. He didn't get to. He called me a couple days before it happened. I didn't see it.

Death isn't fair. But it's not the end.

I think, if the story had had more time, these characters could have had better roles. But life isn't always so kind. Death isn't always so kind. We lose people when we're not looking. We blink and people are gone.

Doc, Sarge, Church, and Tex are dead. Wash was in an institution again. Tucker just went through all that. Grif went back to earth.

That's... that's brutal. Why don't I hate it? On paper, I'd hate it.

I think it might be because it doesn't feel like a goodbye, or even the end. There are loose ends. A lot of them. There's so much pain there, so much healing and moving on to be done. Just because Grif went back to earth doesn't mean he and Simmons don't call all the time. Just because Donut wasn't here to maybe save Sarge doesn't mean he won't be there eventually.

Just because Doc only saved two people doesn't mean it didn't matter.

Life is brutal. Death is brutal. Shit happens. Shit that isn't fair. Whether it's people we love dying, or just studio drama fucking a show.

But... that doesn't mean it's the end.

Doesn't mean Simmons is going to be alone, doesn't mean Doc died for nothing, doesn't mean Sarge's sacrifice meant nothing, doesn't mean Wash or Tucker's lives are ruined, or that Caboose can't have a new best friend.

I like to imagine Donut taking up medical studies after this. Doc saved him. He's going to make damn sure that matters. Maybe Blood Gulch becomes something of a boot camp for some future loser rejects in need of a home that Simmons can guide.

Church, in all his forms, may be gone. But that doesn't mean they're going to be so quick to forget. Leave the past in the past. But still look back from time-to-time. It got you where you were.

Sometimes we pass memories down through stories. Sometimes, just in the choices we make throughout our lives.

But just... unfair things happened. To the show, and to the characters in it. To the people running it. My best friend died when he was 14. Monty Oum died in his prime. Life is tragic. But hey, it's not the end. It's just the start of something new.

Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't ideal. Maybe it hurts. Maybe it'll never stop hurting. But it can still be beautiful. it still has meaning.

It may just be a silly show about Halo dudes, but it matters.

Tl;dr: Raven is stupidly sentimental right now

[erial-c]

WEDDING AUDIO BAYBEY‼️

ohh bare with me this live reacting was all over the place

UGGHH SAPPY DAVID IS SO CUTE  . i may not be the biggest shaw pack fan but his character development will never cease to kill me

asher panicking 😭😭 AND CALMING HIMSELF DOWN because he didn't realize today was the day

baaabe being dressed already?? that's ao fucking funny they fr just let ash sleep (also a little bit of personaloty for baaabe  . the crowd cheers)

asher please your mate is already dressed  . dear god

i love that darlin out of all people wanted to make it so that the mates won't see each other until the ceremony . i know it's mostly because they wanted to drive the listener groups aka the "fun group" as they call it (listeners are bffies CANON!!!) but it's much funnier to think they hold onto that tradition for some reason 

"we're fun too, right?  ...right???" yeah asher whatever you say🤞

YEAASSSS SPEAKER BANTER I LOVE THIS SHIT SAOW MUCJ

"i don't even want to imagine what chaos those four are getting up to" THW SILENCE IN THE CAR???? erik was giggling and kicking his feet putting this in the script huhhuh

darlin being the one to make sure neither of the mates are peeking LMAO  . and sam calling them beautiful too. kill me actually

milo calling out asher's hair "are you trying to look like you got married in a wind tunnel?????? david don't let him walk out like that!!!!!!" further proving the headcanon that milo is the most well dressed of the shaw pack 

milo's nervous as shit  😭😭 i forgot he was gonna be the fucking officiant bro id be sweating fucking bullets too

"just maybe.. cuss a little less" great advice to tell milo out of all people  , sam

serious talk with the alpha and beta .. shivers

"why did you pick me?" asher  . asher  please.

"take the chance of saying something that's not perfect, if it means you get to really say what you feel" crazy  . i love angel (they are a listener character)) (they have no voice)) 

"you're the other side of my coin. you always have been" DAVID  . DAAAVIDDDD.

its good to see that david understands that while he know he made the right choice, he still understands the heavy responsibility he put on ash in assigning him to be pack beta

"you're too hard on yourself too" "well we had to have something in common other than destiny and smash bros, right?" KILL ME. stop being cute you loser

big three shaw pack hug  . ill kill myself

"i'm going to be up there lookin this good, people are gonna be confused on whose day it is!" "are they gonna be able to see you? do we get a step stool for behind the podium?" MILO DON'T LISTEN 2 THEM MY SHORT KING🤞🤞🤞 also beta boy😭😭😭😭😭

the effortless switch from banter to being all sentimental and emotional is crazy  . i hate these guys (lie)

RAAAAGHHH CEREMONY💥‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ YEAAASSSSS

yaknow while i did expect a few side characters/guest VAs to voice side characters , i don't think the audio feels that empty . it's just focused on the main characters and honestly im actually ok with it

not the laugh track😭feels like im watching a sitcom this is so funny

im assuming all the guests are empowered/informed  , because milo is calling the couples "mates"

YEAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSS THE VOWS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ HERECOME THE WATERWORKS (mine and theirs🤞🤞)

girl nevamind the silence for baaabe's/angelangel's vows r still so silly

"the- the pairs of you. to each other. not all together. uh- congratulations  . uh- clap, everybody. now" no actually we're a polycule neow . canon because i said so

[madschiavelique]

ACOI thoughts about tyler bc i usually dislike the "he bullies you bc he likes you" sentiment irl but i think the way you're doing it/setting it up is hilarious tyler's the kind of guy to post "omg i hateeee seeing pictures of (people who match his type)/(people who describe the reader) it would be soooo horrible if you replied to this with pictures ohhh nooo"

i feel like he'd also see viktor & the reader getting closer despite their "i still hate you" dynamic and be like "omg reader could do that to me :D" cut to the reader being like "YOU?!! yeah no way, i truly despise you"

also, reader would be ranting to her friends/silene about viktor and they'd be like "oh girl.,,,, you like him" (or like silene's "that boy likes you" when he stayed for her detention) and tyler would do the same about reader and his friends would be like "uh no dude she actually hates you"

THISSSSS

listen he is a loser through and through. how the hell could he step to be on either reader or viktor’s level ? he could not. because he’s a filthy lil shit

but the way reader just did not hesitate to put him back in place because he was being a dick ? omfg this is growing on him, she has done it TWICE already and he wonders what’ll happen if he goes on to ask for more and she was ready to throw HANDS for it

she is so out of his league it’s ridiculous. top of the academy for 2 years straight without a problem, she has comebacks, she is ready to put him back in his place, he is but a mere dust under her fingernails. and this bitch is here for it

him trying to talk to her could literally be interpreted as :

tyler : hi, i think you’re full of shit

reader : hi, i think you’re profoundly pathetic, kys

tyler : …omg i’m in love

[nightlilly0110]

This is literally a villain death tally for BNHA. Spoilers, obviously. I…hate this. I absolutely hate this. I knew some of them would die and I know that character deaths don’t necessarily have to have meaning, they could just be casualties, but the way this played out, it just seems to fit into a neat little box of “the bad guys are not allowed to have a happy ending.” Which. Goes against the entirety of the premise of Deku’s reasoning to become a hero of “I want to save people.” The only named character I can think of that he saved was Eri (not counting rescuing Bakugou from the League, Iida from Stain because they’re not civilians, feel free to tell me any others I missed) and she fits the stereotypical Perfect Victim trope. She’s just a child. Anything bad she did (rewinding people out of existence) it was done by accident, because she didn’t know any better. She has the chance to be rehabilitated into society without any of the bitterness that the League carry with them.

I really don’t like that there’s a subsection of this fandom that’s like “well they got what they asked for.” And yeah. Don’t use whatever issues you have going on as an excuse for your shitty behaviour (read: don’t be like “well the villains are abused so they have a right to kill people”) but also maybe think before saying “I think it’s good that the guy who got abused and manipulated as a child and groomed into being a mass murderer died. I think killing the murderer instead of addressing the societal problems that made him that way will fixeverything.” Your “they got what they asked for” also falls a little tone deaf with “what they asked for” boils down to “don’t be treated like shit” and the narrative of the manga has always been “we should save people.”

I also think these deaths are in bad faith when you have the hero side critically injured every five seconds and coming back from that (with the exception of Midnight, don’t get me started with that I hate that she was the only named casualty of that arc other than the racist guy) with Bakugou literally having his heart stop especially, and then with the villains it’s like “well can’t do anything about that, bye loser.”

So yeah, here’s what we know about the villains with the last three-ish chapters pending and a bit as to why I’m more than pissed about how this turned out, keeping the above sentiments in mind.

TLDR They died in vain. They accomplished nothing, no one bothered to listen to their message, and they died.

Magne - died protecting her friends from Overhaul. Body not recovered because it was cut in half (top half exploded) and only her legs remained. Might be reading into this a bit too much but a little weird that the trans woman was the first death we had in the series. Also weird that her motivations to join the League was presumably her horrible treatment for being trans but we don’t get that context until the circumstances surrounding her death. We know very little about her backstory.

Twice - Literally stabbed in the back while trying to flee. Body left in an active war zone, assumably recovered by the Hero Commission/whoever is responsible for cleanup. Mild closure in the fact that he did find out that he was the real copy of himself but not really because we still have people, years after this death, saying that it was “justified” and “a necessity” because Twice was resisting arrest trying to flee while being a non-combatant. I cannot stress enough that he was unarmed while he was running, ran past Hawks and did not attack him, and the “help” Hawks was offering him was throwing him in jail and never letting him see the light of day again. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

Toga - Sacrificed herself to save Uraraka (semi-implied she might have been in love with Uraraka). Only Uraraka knows of her sacrifice. Has to endure in death people saying that she was nothing more than a villain, same as in life. Nothing changes for her - she’s still considered creepy, a freak, a villain. Body assumably left in an active war zone recovered by Hero Commission.

Mr. Compress - Arrested and in prison. We still don’t know why he joined the League. (Thank you @themattress for correcting me in this, glad he’s not dead but damn.)

Kurogiri - MIA. Assumed dead. Not mentioned in the final act and without closure as to his identity, only that he is still loyal to the League.

Spinner - Hospitalized. Says he’s going to preach about Shigaraki’s message. Honestly, it’s a good sentiment, but he’s clearly going out into a society that is a) hostile to people with mutant quirks like him b) hostile to villains c) canonically resistant to change and resistant to anything related to Shigaraki if those TV interviews were anything to go by. It’s a lost cause.

Dabi - Alive, but barely. He’s restrained and being kept alive by medics equipment but it’s clear his life will be short and in pain. I saw someone say that it’s “ironic justice” because he always wanted Endeavour to watch him and now he has no choice in that his family is going to be (in Dabi’s words) “gawking at him like a tourist attraction.” He’s miserable, he’s going to die, and he doesn’t even get the freedom that he wanted while his abuser walks off without punishment and still adored by society. This isn’t justice, it’s cruel, especially when we know it’s possible for him to be properly put back together (since that’s what happened after he “died” as a teenager).

Shigaraki - Dead, turned to dust after being possessed and used as a puppet by AFO after being his puppet and manipulated by him for years. Was not saved despite the fact that the entirety of the last arc was propped up by the sentiment that Deku was trying to reach out to him and save him, specifically Tenko, the spirit of a little boy who wanted to be a hero. I don’t believe in redemption through death. People calling this a redemption arc is an insult. It wasn’t a sacrifice - he was killed. He had no agency in his life and didn’t even get to choose his own death. Deku tells him to his face that his death is his own fault (what happened to saving him?!). He died hoping his friends would be able to carry on and something about hero society changed. His friends are dead, dying, or have lost everything, and society stayed exactly the same as it was at the start of all of this.

[mqverick]

st. tropez party girl || ִ ࣪𖤐

“if you hold me tight, it's alright

let the fire ignite.”

─── ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ───

Jerry fucking Maguire. The man with the vision, the most known sports agent in the town, the guy who could set his mind into something and actually achieve it, even if it meant costing him the money for a once in a lifetime opportunity. Jerry Maguire, who was very openly a flirt, a cocky bastard, a pretentious loser and a little bit of a crazy person with unrealistic ambitions.

That’s who you had to work with and it both physically and mentally hurt you. You hated his guts, always had. You didn’t know a lot about him, just the basics and the ones written on the papers or spoken on the telly, but those few were enough for your mind to build up the rest of his personality, which you were not a big fan of.

God. You hated yourself for being so sentimental, but Jerry had just gotten fired and he looked sweaty and alone and miserable — not to mention how he’d literally fished out Flipper in front of everybody while completely losing every single remaining of his dignity through that ridiculous speech, at which everyone has been holding laughs back from, and you’d found yourself growing rather empathetic to his embarrassment, so you’d yelled out that you were going with him.

All eyes had been on you, strange looks, muffled snickers, even your friends at the office had warned you to sit your ass back where it had been for the past couple of years, with a secure future.

But no, you just had to save Jerry some of the embarrassment. You were currently in the elevator with him, awkward silence building up between the two of you as he fiddled around.

“Thought you hated me,” you heard him utter shyly. You glared at him, noticing the ungrateful choice of words after you’d just publicly humiliated yourself for him.

“Hate doesn’t exist in professionalism, Maguire. I’m strongly opposed against your idealism and quite frankly, not exactly fond of you either,” you replied sharply, not daring to look directly at him.

“Hm, so much for hate not existing.”

“But, I refuse to work for a bunch of fucking hippie hypocrites like Sugar. And you know, if it weren’t for me, no one would have had your back in there. Not even your precious assistant.”

Jerry gave you a weak, tight-lipped smile as he raised the bag with Flipper in it in the air. “From now on, the fish will symbolize a better future.”

You unintentionally chuckled, hurrying to put a straight face back on as you cleared your throat, wondering how the hell he managed to sound so drunk without having had the tiniest drop of alcohol in his body all day.

“You’re stupid,” you whispered under your breath, thankfully loud enough that it only reached your own ears.

“Thank you, you know,” Jerry turned to you, holding out his hand for you to take. “I honestly thought no one would believe in me.”

“Prove to me that you can be alone and then you’ll thank me, Jerry,” you spoke, moving past him and ignoring his hand as the doors opened.

That same evening, the moment you reached your home, you collapsed against the door, face buried in your hands as you mentally slapped and kicked yourself. What the fuck had you gone and done? Trusting Jerry fucking Maguire, Jerry Ma-fucking-uire, as Avery liked to call him. You were screwed, hopeless and at the mercy of the person you swore you wanted to erase from the universe.

But his mission statement had inspired you.

He spoke words that the others back at the office weren’t ready to hear, truths, facts, goals, dreams. That was the Jerry Maguire you quit your job for and maybe it wouldn’t be the messy waste of potential that your brain had pictured.

Except when you thought that things could actually possibly work out, Jerry found out that Cush and his family had signed a contract with Bob Sugar behind his back, and everything had returned back to the crap hole where it had began. With a single client hanging on by a thread, Jerry was wrecked and so were you.

Your life was destroyed, you’d decided.

Maybe acting out on those amateur pole dancing lessons that your older cousin had taught you back when you were 17 wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Jerry’s backup people were falling down like flies. Everyone was dropping him, first his own company, then Cush and eventually — which came as the biggest surprise — Avery.

You and Rod were his only hope.

For days now, you’d been rehearsing in front of your mirror how you’d tell him that you were dropping him as well. You were done, wouldn’t allow yourself to go bankrupt for a petty sad man.

It was either 9 o’clock or midnight, you couldn’t be arsed to check, because your favourite show was on TV and the commodity of your couch and blanket was comfortable enough to have you watching with your eyes half-lidded — when you heard a series of playful yet lazy knocks on your door. You groaned at the noise, not bothering to get into your slippers as you slid your sock-covered feet across the entrance, peeking through the door to see who was feeling rather silly in the middle of the night.

Of course it would be him. Who else?

For a second, you considered not opening the door for him. See if he’d stay there, in that pathetic posture of him, fingers running through his fucked up hair as he shivered just a little from being undressed in such a chilly weather. But then again, you’d already thrown your career away for him, so what gives?

“Hellooooo,” he said happily as you let him inside, grinning from ear to ear. The smell of booze hung in the atmosphere as he lazily wandered through the living room, smiling at your furniture and bursting into uncontrollable chuckles. You wished someone would shoot you — or rather him.

“Have you ever heard of a little something called, oh, I don’t know, calling before showing up at my front yard like the drunk fucking tooth fairy?” you gritted through your teeth. Jerry seemed unfazed.

“Mmm, someone’s… m-mad.”

“What are you doing here, Maguire?” you asked with a sigh, already growing tired of the sight of him. “And care to explain why you’re wearing alien sunglasses during nighttime?”

Jerry laughed as he pointed as his glasses, before removing them to reveal a swollen black eye with a huge cut next to it. You gasped when you saw it, concern washing over you as you rushed to his side for a better look.

“I, um, broke up with Avery.”

Damn, you certainly had not pegged Avery for the violent type. “Too bad, huh,” you mumbled, disappearing into the kitchen in search of an ice tray and a glass of water. When you walked back inside the living room, you found Jerry staring at the fishbowl that was placed on top of your fireplace, muttering something to Flipper, who was swimming without any worries.

“I fucking hate that fish,” he admitted and you held back a laugh as you gestured for him to sit down on the couch.

“What’s going on, Jerry?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. For the past few weeks, I’ve been watching my life fall apart right in front of my eyes. I’m finished. I am fucked! I’m a cautionary tale for everyone, no one trusts me because of that stupid mission statement I wrote after having what I think was two slices of cold, expired pizza and the worst of all is that you and Rod are the only people in my life that ever believed in me. Why are you even still with me? Why haven’t you dropped me yet?”

Your gaze softened and you opted for silence as you carefully let your hand graze the soft skin on his cheek, laying his head back against the couch. You brought the ice cub near his eyelid, feeling him wince as the cold material made contact with the still fresh wound. Jerry closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax against your touch.

“Wanna know why I haven’t left you, Jerry?” you asked and he nodded hesitantly in response. “Because what you think is a stupid memo made me realize that you have more potential than you give yourself credit for. You have something more than a need to succeed, you have a vision. You’re not just doing it for a money and in my brutally honest opinion, you’re more than just a man hiding behind a silver suit.”

You caught him smile at your words.

“You really mean that?”

Your contained smile barely lifted the corners of your mouth as you felt a certain warmth build up on your reddened cheeks. Sure, you’d seen Jerry smile before, but the gentleness and innocence that his soft, genuine beam wore was something you’d never witnessed before in your life. His two front teeth were visible through it and it tugged at your so far cold heartstrings, heating them up.

Your heart was hammering against your chest and your mind had gotten foggy along the way, which was partly the reason why your breath got caught in your throat the very moment you noticed that Jerry’s look had changed. “Do you mean that?” he repeated, this time more lowly.

“I’m still not fond of you.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

You gulped, eyes fixated on his own green ones, which you swore were sparkling under the dim light of your sort of broken lamp. “Yes, I mean it.”

There it was again, that smile. Except this time it had something more to it that you couldn’t read (that you wouldn’t allow yourself to read, because you’d had your own share of drinks that evening and they had left just the right amount of courage in your body to do something stupid and regretful for the next day to feel embarrassed about.)

“What have I ever done to you?”

Jerry’s question sent your dreamy train of thoughts out of the rails, snapping you back into the reality of the things. “What?”

“You don’t like me. Why? What have I done?”

“Frankly, I thought you were just a pretentious jackass like Sugar. Maybe slightly less worse than him, but still pretty much a scumbag. Not to mention that your outbursts make me believe you’ve escaped out of some sort of mental institution centre.”

You never expected Jerry to lunge himself forward and knock the air out of you as his arms wrapped tightly against your sides, squeezing as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. Unsure of what to do, you froze in position, hands stuck uncomfortably on the couch, balling into fists as you bit down on your lip, waiting to breathe again after he pulled away with a hint of disappointment and gloom.

“Not a hugger?” he questioned.

“I just don’t want to be hugging you.”

“Ah, the heartwarming words of kindness.”

“I’m one step away from kicking you out of my house, Maguire. I don’t care if you’re drunk, it’s not my responsibility to take care of you or whatever you think this is. Want a place to crash, then you’re more than welcome to use my phone and third wheel Rod and his family.”

“I like that you’re honest.”

You blinked in surprise. How much had he chugged down before he decided to come over?

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a quality I’ve never fully owned, you know?”

“You don’t say.”

Jerry didn’t say anything, just looked at you longingly, a silent conversation passing between the two of you. Then suddenly, “No one ever listens to me. When I’m with you, even though you say you hate me, I feel like you understand.”

Gosh, you couldn’t stand him. Was he really so desperate and unable to hold his own that he had to throw himself to whoever showed him the slightest sign of interest? “Jerry, stop.”

“All my life, all I’ve tried to do is talk. Really talk. And it’s not that people don’t listen, it’s that they don’t want to listen. Whatever I have to say just goes straight in and out of their ears. I spoke through my mission statement and you were the only one that actually heard.”

“Don’t.”

You felt your heart momentarily stop as Jerry moved closer to you, his lips alight on your cheek as if a ghost was gently stroking your skin in a silent confession that was so much deeper than what came through the surface.

“I’ll call a taxi. Thanks for not kicking me out. You know, tonight and, uh, generally speaking. I promise I’ll make everything work again and it’ll all be worth it,” he added before placing another kiss on your face, this time on your forehead. Jerry waved goodbye to you as he walked outside and for a strange reason, you found yourself fighting with a newfound desire and urge to both push him in front of a car and never have to see any of him anymore or set fire on the taxi he’d called and invite him back into your home to spend the night. You did neither, didn’t even have the words to say goodnight to him as you heard the door close, signalling that he’d finally left.

What time was it anyway? It felt like he’d been sitting beside you for what seemed like eternity.

The following day at work, you could say that you’d officially lost every will to live. Rod was yelling like crazy, as per usual, which was not helping your raging headache due to the lack of sleep you’d gotten over the night. Jerry Maguire occupying your brain into nightmares wasn’t exactly a chamomile and plate of chocolate chip cookies to help you drift in slumber.

Speaking of, Jerry had just asked you to come into his office, which was the sort of situation you’d been dreading ever since he’d left from your place last night.

“Asked to see me?” you called, voice cracking a little near the end of your sentence, which probably gave you away — fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, um, I wanted to talk,” he tensely replied.

“If it’s about…”

“It’s about last night,” he completed with a jittery tone. “Look, I brought you in a difficult moment. I was drunk and lonely and had no idea what was going on — I didn’t mean to show up like that.”

“Jerry, it’s fine,” you tried to cut him off, putting an end to the already painfully uncomfortable conversation before any other late night actions were mentioned, but apparently, Jerry had plans of his own.

“No, let me finish. I’m sorry I came over without warning and I’m also sorry for taking advantage of… you know, whatever was going through the atmosphere at said moment. But, uh, I feel like I need to let you know that I did and do appreciate everything you said and did for me last night, it was really nice to, um, hear something honest.”

Jerry glanced down at his lap, fingers fidgeting with the pen he was holding. You dared to take a quick look at him, just to see why he refused to meet your gaze, but the lighting from the blinds was dark enough to hide the blooming bush on his cheeks.

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.”

“Okay,” you got up from your seat and were about to leave him alone in his thoughts, but your feet subconsciously stopped moving for a second and your body turned towards him as you cleared your throat in order to catch his attention. “Next time you show up at my place in the middle of the night, consider giving me a call first.”

You hurried outside, cursing your mouth for being such a pain in the neck. Whatever professionalism you and Jerry had shared was now long gone.

What you missed, though, was the relieved sigh and small smile that crept into his face when you left the unspoken invitation hanging in the air.

───

It had started getting better with Jerry. A few days (or was it weeks? You couldn’t really tell, because whenever he was around, you’d lose track of time) had passed and what had begun as great hatred for him had turned into tolerance and slight fondness. It was weird how sometimes you’d catch yourself watching Jerry walking away or Jerry smiling or Jerry panicking through the phone — for that matter. The man had gotten under your skin into a worryingly quick time.

For once again, as accustomed to, everything went to hell the moment he came across the struggle of yet another emotional meltdown. Rod was losing and the recruiters and reporters seemed unimpressed with him, which Jerry handled poorly, unable to imagine a scenario where Bob Sugar was laughing at his face for being what his ex fiancée had so successfully described him as; a fucking loser.

He was alone, pissed off with Rod, pissed off with Sugar, with his job, with the company, the circumstances of his daily fucked up life, with you, but mostly with his own self.

You could see he was letting himself have it and this time, you wouldn’t risk it again. So you decided to do what you thought was moral and announce to him that you’d been offered another job opportunity, which you wouldn’t decline.

“You’re leaving me?” he asked in disbelief, wearing that stupid pair of sunglasses again.

“Look at you, Jerry! You’re fucked, how the fuck am I supposed to think you can afford to have me when you don’t even know what you’re doing?”

“Fine! Be like all the others, then, go the fuck on. I don’t need you here anyway. You said it; I don’t know what to do, well you’re fucking right!”

Jerry was shouting and throwing fists at the wall, eyes widened and red, holding back fearful tears.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be me out here. It is an up-at-dawn, pride swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about, okay? You don’t know anything about my fucking life!”

“And nor am I interested to!” you yelled, throwing your purse across the room, almost hitting him. “You know, if I had even one shred of respect for you before, it’s now kissed goodbye,” you added in a much calmer tone before leaving him, sniffling and holding back hot tears that burned through your eyes. You let them free once you home, streaming down your face like lava.

You didn’t even know what you were crying for.

Last time you checked, you didn’t care about Jerry Maguire raising his voice at you. Last time you checked, you were just a simple accountant who worked for Sports Management International, barely acknowledging his existence.

It was late when the phone rang and after a series of sobs and thousands of tissue packets filling up the rubbish bins, you wondered who it could be.

“Hello?”

“You told me to call.”

He surely heard the hitch sound your breath made when his voice echoed in your head.

“Maguire?”

“Yeah. I know it’s late again and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to bother you, because I really, really do. I need to see you, please. It’ll only be a minute, just give me a chance.”

It sounded as though he’d been crying as well, voice raspy, weak, chocked.

“Get lost. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s fine, you don’t need to. I’ll talk enough for both of us. Can I come over? You won’t even notice when I’ll be gone, it’ll be that quick.”

A short inhale, then; “Fine.”

When he arrived, he looked like a mess. His eyelashes looked darker and red, eyes puffy and blurry. His hair was all over the place and you could make out the fact that he was struggling to keep his breathing steady, his lips drawn in tightly. The sight of him in that state almost made you burst into tears all over again.

“Hi,” he greeted lowly, afraid of his voice cracking.

“You have five minutes, Jerry.”

What sort of torture was this? Being just a breath away from breaking down in front of him, making a complete loser move and humiliating yourself, you stared at the ceiling above you, biting so roughly down on your lip that you thought you tasted a bit of blood (but that was just you being dramatic about the whole situation.)

“Five minutes? I’m trying to apologize, I can’t do this being timed! Listen, I—I wanted to say that I was stupid about everything I said earlier, I was having an existential crisis and there were so many emotions bottled up and it just flooded. Flooded all over my brain, which caused me not to think straight, so I took it out on you and—”

Jerry was cut off by the loud thud of your door getting shut. You ignored his restless knocking, walking back into the living room, drawing the thick curtains together when he tried to catch your attention from the windows as well. It took him a great deal of time to eventually give up, motioning to you something that you couldn’t quite understand at first. His hands were moving in a way as though he was saying he slipped something under your door and damn you for believing that the curiosity killed the cat.

When he got out of sight, you tiptoed slowly to the door, grabbing what seemed to be a wrinkly napkin. You wiped your tearing up eyes and read what he’d written on it.

‘You’re right. I do drive people away, but I can’t afford to do that to you too.’

“Jerry Maguire!” you called loudly after him after running outside to catch up with him. Thankfully, he hadn’t gone too far, freezing still at the sound of your voice. He turned around to double check that it wasn’t some sort of mirage his mind was playing on him and let out an exhausted laugh of relief as he walked quickly toward you, grabbing you into a soul crushing hug. He was so tightly pressed up against you that you thought you’d merge into one person, but you couldn’t care enough, returning the intensity of the hug right back.

“Please, just hang on for a little bit more. I’m going to make everything up to you, I can’t fucking lose you, I—” he stopped mid-sentence, stunned at himself as he began pulling away, hands still holding onto your shoulders.

You urged him to continue, clueless about why he’d so abruptly cut himself off just to look at you. It was giving you the creeps, the silence and darkness outside allowing the light breeze to be heard into your eardrums like a loud parade. Jerry was looking at you with such fragility and it hurt that you couldn’t read him, couldn’t understand what was going through that head of his.

His pupils were dilated, blown and dark, causing the green irises to glow under the gloominess of the sky. Jerry was looking at you almost as if…

No. No — this was just your mind being sick.

Jerry left as suddenly and coldly as he’d abandoned his previous sentence, out of any excuses and explanations. You couldn’t bare to question anything, simply leaving it to the way he had, hanging in the air, playing tricks with your imagination, giving you hope for something that you couldn’t fully comprehend either.

Three days later, you accidentally caught yourself shamelessly overhearing him ask Rod how to be able to tell if he’d fallen in love.

───

You were certain that the universe had chosen to make it your destiny to lose and hate Jerry Maguire. It was always one step forward and a whole road trip back. There were moments, many of them, where you thought that the thin line between hate and love had been crossed, but it ended up showing that you couldn’t have been more wrong, ultimately always screwing up — either him or you, you were tired of keeping score at this point — what seemed to make your heart flutter like you were leaving into the dream of a hopeless, predictable romcom movie.

Jerry was hot and cold.

You were up and down.

It was pointless, had been ever since the beginning. You kept losing him, right when your fingers had just grasped him, he kept slipping. It was neither’s fault really; both occupied with the misfortunes of work, trying to psyche Rod up for his big game, consulting endlessly while trying to maintain the already existing deals, raising the prices, focusing on that one client, showing the money — as Jerry liked to put it.

Under the environmental stress of the job, you and Jerry had been unable to connect the same way you did during all those short lived moments, the late night visits, the sleep disrupting calls.

But then, one day he caught you off guard as you’d just finished your duties and were about to take off, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Do you, um… Are you… I know a great place!”

You stole a quick glance at him and noticed that his fingers were crossed, lips curled into an upward pout, eyes dreamingly bright. There wasn’t much you could say except for pick me up at 8 o’clock. He did exactly as he was told, ringing on your doorbell right on time, but you kept him waiting outside just for a minute, fixing your high heel in a rush. Truth is you’d spent all time trying to figure out the perfect outfit, just for him, just to get to see that one look he’d given you back in that night all over again.

And he did.

When you opened the door to reveal yourself dressed neatly in a velvet black dress that stopped a few inches lower than your thighs, hair flawlessly covering your bare shoulders, Jerry blushed bright red, not sure how to greet you. His jaw was slightly agape in awe, heart pumping fast and loudly against his chest, blood flowing quickly as the butterflies battled in his stomach.

“I— Woah,” he eventually managed. You innocently looked down at yourself, knowing exactly what you were doing to him but deciding to pretend to be oblivious.

“Is there something wrong?”

“You look… Fuck, you look Audrey Hepburn stunning. I feel like an underdressed jerk.”

That was not true, at least not for you. He was wearing a Sacramento colored shirt, with the top button of the collar undone, revealing a white tee. His pants were a simple beige pair of trousers and for the first time, he showed up at your house with his hair looking surprisingly nice.

You chuckled nervously at his comment, matching the scorching redness on his cheeks.

“Are we actually supposed to be nice to each other now?” you spilled out after a few moments, embarrassed by your choice of words.

“I suppose so. Shall we?” Jerry proposed, handing his shoulder out to you playfully. You slapped it away, hurting both his pride and arm, but the minute you realized the disappointment in his eyes, you mentally took a deep breath and linked your hands together, squeezing unintentionally due to the nervousness, but relaxing as you felt his thumb rub circles on the outside of your palm.

The restaurant he’d chosen was beautiful.

He was a gentleman; helping you get seated, pouring water into your glass, handing you the menu. It almost felt like a real date. In anticipation of the food getting served, you went for a small talk, which felt embarrassingly awkward.

“So, uh, how do you know this place?”

“Took Avery here on the third date, I think?”

“Ah.”

Jerry noticed your uneasiness and reached for your hand that was on the table.

“I don’t want to talk about her tonight, though. I’ve got a beautiful woman with me already.”

Your eyes widened comically and you slipped your hand away from his, scratching the back of your neck. “Look, Jerry, I thought this would be a nice way to get to finally know you, you know?”

“It is! I’ll help you get to know me. At work I’ve been all over the fucking place, you probably think I’m insane or something, but, uh, I swear, I’m actually a decent person.”

“Are you? You’ve done nothing to prove me otherwise.”

“I am. Besides, you said that my mission statement inspired you. I wrote that from the heart, put all my thoughts and dreams in there, so I guess I have in fact proven you otherwise.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

You gulped in order to gain the confidence to utter the question out, looking deep into his gorgeous green eyes as you tugged a strand of hair behind your ear. “That night, when you came into my house drunk — I just can’t help but wonder why did you come to me instead of Rod? Or anyone else for that matter.”

Jerry tensed up, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked as if he was about to confess something and just the thought made your knees jittery.

“As I said that same night, I feel like you understand me in a level no one else does. I was lonely and miserable and had no idea to do with my life and suddenly you were the first person that came into my mind, so I decided to pay you an unwanted visit. The reason I didn’t call was because I know how you feel about me and I could only imagine that you would’ve held a negative attitude if I asked to come over through the phone, so, that’s pretty much how it goes. You’ve been in my mind ever since.”

“Oh, Jerry,” you mouthed in a dazzling tone. No, you couldn’t do this. “Jerry, we need to stop.”

He looked at you through furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m taking about this. It’s been happening for almost a month now and all I know is that it’s confusing me, but I know for one thing that I can’t bare to put myself through something that I know will end up hurting me. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine either — it’s just our nature. I’m not build like this; I can’t just tiptoe back and forth into whatever the fuck this is, it needs to stop.”

Jerry was more confused than ever, feeling his own eyes well up at the sight of the first tear rolling down your cheek. “What happened?”

“You know what, Jerry — and for fuck’s sake, quit staring at me like I’m your entire world or something!” you said, your voice subconsciously raising. You got up from the chair and roamed through your purse for your wallet, leaving a bunch of money bills on the table as you hesitantly walked over to where he was.

“So what, you just stop talking to me?”

“You and I are both aware that an end needs to be put in this and you’re not strong enough for it, so I’m going to be the one to do it.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“It’s not your call,” you whispered, leaning down and taking his head in your hands, pressing it softly against your stomach as you leaned down to place a lingering kiss on the top of it.

“Please don’t leave me,” you heard Jerry choke out, his hands encircling your waist, afraid to let you go.

“You need to focus on Rod. Big game’s coming up and you can both do it. You’ll have a brilliant career, Jerry, I truly believe that and you’ll always have all my support, but you’re just going to have to do this on your own,” were your last words before you walked away, leaving him behind, wrecked, people staring not so discreetly as he held behind the sobs of the following two weeks.

───

Rod was finally getting to be a big deal. Jerry’s career had blossomed again, just as you’d promised to him. Everything in his life was going perfectly — then why did he feel so fucking empty inside? Watching Rod with his family made him hurt, reminiscing about the way you’d left him that day at the restaurant. Hadn’t been able to reach out to you ever since.

Jerry Maguire realised he was in love when his client called him in the spotlight to pose along with him. Nothing like that had ever occurred to him before and it felt so surrealistic, yet so true at the same time. He needed you to be there with him, needed to hear your voice, see you smile. Listen to you say that you were proud of him or even glare at him as if you wanted to burn a hole through his head and finish him.

Jerry was in love with you and it dwelled on him how much he’d actually been missing you.

Not caring about anything, he ran to the airport, knowing he had to make things right. The flight back home was killing him, time passing disgustingly slow for his liking. When he finally got off, he almost tripped towards his way to the taxi station. Precisely forty three minutes and ten seconds, he was finally standing outside of your door, his luggage thrown over his shoulder as he simply stared forward, unable to move.

Was he really doing this?

According to his bachelor video, the only thing he was great at was friendships. But he’d just taken off with his career and he needed to fulfil all the promises he’d made, so there he was, knocking on your door for once more. If you decided you still didn’t want him, then he’d go forever.

“Hello — oh.”

His breath disappeared when he saw you. How long had it really been? You were surprised, not expecting him at all. Your movements were limited, limbs completely in shock as you scooted away to let him in. Your mind was short circuiting as he looked around the place like nothing had happened, like the two of you hadn’t had talked in — was it months? Or just weeks that felt like decades?

“Hello. If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen,” Jerry began. You cocked your head in confusion, staring blankly at him. “I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that? This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They’d send me in there, and I’d do it alone. And now I just... But tonight, our little project, our company had a very big night — a very, very big night. But it wasn’t complete, wasn’t nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn’t share it with you. I couldn’t hear your voice or laugh about it with you. I missed you, I missed having you around. We live in a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you. You complete me. And I just —”

“Shut up,” you mustered through tears. “Just shut up. You had me at ‘hello’.” And before you even knew what was happening, you were walking towards him, crashing your lips onto his hard with a fervent need you’d never known before. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to his body as he smiled through the kiss, feeling you reciprocate the action. Both you and Jerry were still crying, unable to hold back the tears of what could’ve happened ages ago if either of you had had the balls to actually pursue it.

But neither of you cared.

Because you were finally kissing Jerry Maguire and your life felt complete, just as he’d described. He completed you and you completed him and the feeling had you melting against him, knees buckling, mind dizzy from his words and his scent and the way he so perfectly belonged against your lips. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as he pulled away, trying to catch his breath.

“I love you so much. I’ve loved you ever since you came with me when I got fired. I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you,” Jerry said, leaning his forehead against yours as he cupped your cheeks, holding you gently and lovingly.

“I love you Jerry Maguire.”

FIN.

i wrote this for my favourite girl @honeymvnt , hope you enjoy beautiful !! 🫶🏼🎀

[codenamesazanka]

“…we're talking as if Shigaraki Tomura and AFO just happens - there's no idea of prevention” And then, after the bit with Overhaul, Izuku straight up asks ‘how can we prevent this from happening again?’ and Tsukauchi, just like after the mall, shuts his introspection down by saying it’s impossible, and this is the sentiment that we truly end the discussion on. “Can we stop this destruction, possibly save them before they get to that point?” “No kid, this is just the way it is.”

I guess Tomura was right during 281. It really is a viscous cycle.

(From Chapter 70, read right to left)

Having gone back to look at this scene, it's actually hilarious. Here is Deku, All Might, and Tsukauchi, the same team that's in this recent Chapter.

(Actually, have to first say it's crazy that Deku's in a room with Spinner and Spinner's crying about Shigaraki being his friend and his hero... while right outside, All Might and Tsukauchi are just calmly watching that scathing documentary (ABOUT NANA'S GRANDSON, ALL MIGHT - and you should know about the Kotarou and AFO shit that went down, Deku should've told you!!!) in the hospital waiting room.)

Chapter 70, Deku catches a inkling about Shigaraki's not-so-great past - he can hear the resentment and truth in Shigaraki's 'All Might smiles as if there's no one he can't save!', that why he asks about it. All Might tries to give an answer, one where he admits he can't save everyone, but at least he says he's trying, so he's fine; but Tsukauchi - it's his words that shuts down Deku's introspect, like you said.

But not only that, he dismisses everything Shigaraki had said to Deku (which would've been told to Tsukauchi since they were just in the interrogation room!) as Shigaraki being a "sore loser", thus dismissing that unsaved-past hint and vital look into Shigaraki's psyche, like Shigaraki is some random punk who spouts empty words.

...Which is exactly what the TV documentary is currently trying to portray Shigaraki as??? "Wasn't Shigaraki Tomura supposed to be just a random thug?" "He may have a tragic past, but whatever, don't bother looking into it." "He had no ideas, no great case, he only wanted to destroy."

I feel like this comparison is warranted here.

In Chapter 70, Deku worries that Shigaraki was speaking the truth about All Might being unable to save anyone. In Chapter 427, Deku worries about preventing things like Overhaul and Eri's trauma from happening. The core of it is the same - Deku wants to stop all this suffering. He wants to save everyone, he wants to stop bad things from happening.

Of course that's impossible, but Deku shouldn't be given just a yes or no answer. It's a chance to look deeper, to explore options, to say stuff like 'sadly, suffering is ever-present, but we'll try out best to eliminate or alleviate it, and you can help do so by this and that.'

But both times, Tsukauchi does not help Deku do this.

It's even worst this time because he jokes about increasing the number of Heroes (as if we didn't just come from a so-called "Hero-saturated society"???), and Deku wonders if that's possible, and Tsukauchi has to say he's joking, making it seem like Deku is some naive child... Which, actually, Deku is - which means it's up to Tsukauchi to guide him? But Tsukauchi doesn't. It's not even a gentle 'it's impossible', it's Tsukauchi looking totally tired and his words short and conclusive.

You're so right, anon. "this is the sentiment that we truly end the discussion on."

Like, I don't want to say Shigaraki was right, because didn't we just see a whole documentary hating on him because he tried to carry out change using destruction and people clearly didn't like that? And it just left him dead, and the rest of the League unsaved?

And yet. Once you look back at Tsukauchi's face. You have to wonder if anyone is actually really trying to change anything.

Thanks for the ask!

[littencloud9]

since you want more kunichuu: 2, 6 & 11 for the ask + your fluffiest & silliest hcs for them <3

hehehe HELLO!!

2. What their love letters look like

so fucking cheesy it is disgusting. i like to think chuuya mails kunikida letters along with the random gifts he sends him like: hi pretty boy <3 these are for you! hope work is going well xoxo. and then kunikida reuses those letters by turning them into flowers or something similar and gifting them to chuuya when they get home

6. How they decorated their bedroom

chuuya being a neat hoarder is important to me. their bedroom has so much clutter. it drove kunikida a little crazy at first but then he got used to it and started adding even more things. they’re both sentimental losers so lots of photos and mementos (movie tickets, keychains, postcards etc). also kunikida gifted chuuya a tiny dog plushie and it sits on their massive bed, tucked in every morning

11. What their first impression was of each other

kunikida: mafia executive nakahara chuuya. i need to be wary of him. he is, as i’ve heard, feisty and feral and has a huge temper and. oh, he’s smiling. he’s kind of cute. NO—

chuuya: stuck-up. boring. agency’s second in command. tf is he so tall for. dazai’s new partner UGH whatever. i dont even care— why the HELL did he just blow up!!!! …why was that kind of cool. fuck????

aaand have some pre-dating but definitely pining hcs because i am WEAK!!

chuuya had that childish urge to tug on kunikida’s ponytail one (1) time. yes they gave in. no they didn’t regret it

kunikida HATES that kenji and chuuya get along so well. until he saw chuuya genuinely laughing with kenji, to which he dropped his pen over it and it stopped working forever

neither of them are very touchy before dating, but it is noted that they shake hands after joint meetings a little longer than necessary

kunikida had a nose piercing that closed up and when chuuya found out they got stars in their eyes

chuuya didn’t know how to deal with his feelings at first. cue to a LOT of pacing on the ceiling and cursing kunikida out

after the initial disapproval, kunikida gained a lot of respect for chuuya and speaks of them highly. in a Purely Civil And Work-Appropriate Way of course

they went to karaoke for whatever reason with some other characters. chuuya sang a romantic rock ballad while looking straight into his eyes and kunikida had to leave the room

chuuya, after a meeting: of course, pretty boy. see you next time [insert cool wave and wink]

chuuya, the moment kunikida is out of sight: ?;!;!;&(!&.:!;& WHY DID I SAY THAT

kunikida is terrible at understanding pick up lines. chuuya thought he was just rejecting him really nicely. until they start dating and they brought it up and kunikida is like ?? you were FLIRTING?? and chuuya’s like ?? YOU COULDN’T TELL???

i dont know how to end this so last one: chuuya offhandedly mentions some complicated math equation he does for his ability to work and kunikida falls in love

[womendeservehumanity]

If this were your first day on earth and you were only able to scroll through these accounts, which exist in such plentiful amount. You’d really think “misandry” dominates online spaces and that it isn’t complete, inescapable misogyny. Accounts with hundreds of thousands and upwards to half a million followers dedicated to hating women such as women posting their ls, women being awful, women being honest, why women get ls, single moms posting their ls (all very real accounts on twitter). Subreddits with hundreds of thousands of members such as r/entitledbitch, r/whereareallthegoodmen, r/pussypassdenied, and the not that recently banned r/memegender. Tiktoks going viral everyday saying the most reprehensible things about women. You wouldn’t be able to keep track of them because that’s how pervasive they are. It’s such a common form of content for men. Same on Instagram. Or accounts on multiple platforms but mostly YouTube and TikTok it seems such as hoe math and Andrew Tate who teach men the true nature of women. That they’re evil disloyal whores and how you should act accordingly.

And I am not for one second believing that these people are somehow collectively unaware of that. They just know to perfectly frame every situation to where men are perpetual victims and women are evil feminiazis wanting to use their blood as sustenance. In a world where the average leftist woman has a kill all men mug and is going to feminist lectures that talks about how evil men are and not how actually feminism is for them too! In a world where misogyny is this complete non factor and is something men aren’t engaging with. And if they are it’s actually justifiable because it’s again due to these evil feminazis demonizing them. It’s not as though misogyny has existed since the beginning of time. As if men have hated women since the beginning of time. Nope. Even when men hate women. Even when they say the most reprehensible and dehumanizing things about them it’s still being explained through a lens where they’re the victims

Op in the first tweet subsequently went on to make a thread that was void of any actually meaning or conclusion because well these men really think they’re compelling when really it’s just poorly stringed along ideas and sentiments about how everything wrong in my life is not the fault of myself. Requiring no self responsibility or introspection. He then went on to parrot a very popular sentiment. That really, men are simple. And just want a woman’s touch and to be able to play their video games and watch their h3ntai. And that since the evil feminists and woke culture couldn’t let them have that they’ve devolved into reactionary woman hating fascists. Again, not at the fault of their own.

Because nothing is ever their fault. Or the result of their character, decisions, etc. This man literally said “all for reasons outside of our control” after talking about how males are complete and utter losers with no identity or future. How is it that women are the ones seen as the victimizing, self absorbed gender when this slop has almost 50k likes because it resonates with so many of them? Being vapid, inept, and resentful failures contributing nothing to society.

[wisteria-cherry]

in which you were right in that hanging with the marauders would attract unwanted attention

when you first decided to start officially hanging out with the marauders (when remus had invited you to sit with them), you figured there would be repercussions. it could either be from sirius’ fangirls, who evidently had a reputation for being somewhat “protective” over him (not that he needed any protection), or from the slytherin house in general, who, in their hatred for the house of gryffindor, hated the marauders the most. this was well deserved, you figured, because every prank you’ve seen to date were aimed towards the slytherins, severus snape (who was lily’s best friend) in particular. as you continued to spend time with them, though, the sentiment faded, and soon enough you weren’t worried at all.

naturally, of course, once you stop worrying about something, that very something tends to happen.

you were walking back to the gryffindor common room from potions— alone, for once, and in the dungeon, making you a sitting duck in the eyes of slytherins.

“hey, gryffindor scum.” you turn around with a frown, trying to see who was insulting your house.

“what?” you ask. it was lucius malfoy, along with his posse consisting of severus snape, narcissa black, bellatrix black, and rodolphus lestrange, none of which you really enjoyed.

“we’re not happy with those pranks you and those stupid marauders played, that’s what.” lucius snapped.

“losers!” bellatrix stuck her tongue out gleefully.

“very mature.” you murmur under your breath. “well, what about it? you lot do things, too. you’re not innocent.”

“that’s exactly our point. we do things back.” lucius raised his wand, pointing it at you. the other four followed suit.

“wh—“ your brow furrowed. “that’s not fair. that’s cowardly, malfoy.”

“since when do we care?” lucius drawled. “we’re not gryffindor. we don’t prance about declaring how honorable we are.”

“yeah, you prance about declaring how you’re so incredible because you’re a pure blood.” you spit, raising your wand. lucius’ expression contorted, indignant.

“stupefy!” lucius bellowed.

“protego!” you immediately shield yourself, lucius’ spell evaporating as it made contact with the force field. your frown deepens as you watch the group that called themselves “death eaters” whisper amongst themselves.

“serpensortia!” rodolphus pointed his wand at the ground, and a black snake emerged from the tip, slithering towards you. you shudder. snakes. gross.

“confrin-!” you point your wand at the snake, ready to rid yourself of it, but you’re interrupted by another spell, one you’d never heard of.

“levicorpus!” bellatrix shrieked happily. you yelp, feeling your feet leave the ground. you flipped upside-down midair, and you gasp as you quickly push your skirt to cover yourself back up. you felt the blood rushing to your head.

“what-“ you manage to choke out. “what kind of spell—“

“it’s new. severus created it.” lucius bragged smugly, before raising his wand. “expelliarmus.” you gasp as your wand flew out of your hand and into lucius’.

“give it back!” you snap.

“the countercurse is liberacorpus. not that that’d help you.” lucius ran a long, pale finger across the length of your wand. “you know, since you’re about to lose your wand.”

“lose— malfoy, you wouldn’t.” you hiss, squirming uncomfortably at the heat in your face due to the blood rush.

“oh, but i would.” lucius gripped the two ends of your wand, ready to snap it into two.

“malfoy!”

you look around frantically for the source of the voice, then relax. james and sirius, both less than happy to see you in this state.

“what’s this, now, malfoy?” james glared, marching right up and getting in lucius’ face. “coward.”

“now, don’t quote me, but i don’t think normal people hang upside-down in midair.” sirius mused, curling your floating form.

“listen, black, i am so not in the mood.”

“what’s the countercurse?” sirius pulled his wand out.

“liberacorpus.” sirius waved his wand lazily, and promptly caught you as you fell. “wow, darling, i wasn’t expecting you to blush this hard when i saved you.”

“black.” you whine, squirming. “it’s because i was upside-down and you know it.”

“whatever you say, dove.” sirius snickered, setting you down, which didn’t quite work because you couldn’t feel your legs, and immediately leaned on sirius.

“bold today, aren’t we?” sirius grinned as you rolled your eyes, easily supporting your weight with your arms around his neck. “let’s beat up some slytherins, yeah?”

“yeah.” you glared at the death eaters. james backed up to stand next to sirius.

“i’m gonna murder them.” james scoffed, raising his wand. “arseholes.”

hardly a second later, james had shot a spell, and you and sirius followed suit. a rather epic duel ensued, and, as expected, the three of you won. basically.

lucius stood alone as his mates lay petrified on the ground. sirius exchanged glances with james before carefully setting you down on the ground. you stretches your legs out, wincing as you feel the pins and needles of the blood rushing back to your calves.

james and sirius stalked over to lucius. lucius was by no means short, but james and sirius were tall. they towered over lucius.

“maybe you shouldn’t do that again, lucius.” james glared down, crossing his arms.

“unless you wanna do this again.” sirius hummed, his hands in his pockets. by lucius’ expression, it was clear that sirius was glaring, too. “i’m up for it, aren’t you, mate?” sirius looked to james, who nodded.

“yeah. you know, maybe i am.” james mused, looking lucius dead in the eye as lucius tried to stand strong. however, he finally turned on his heel, storming off, muttering to himself. lucius came back momentarily, performing the countercurse for his petrified friends.

“let’s go.” lucius snapped.

“what? but—“ narcissa protested.

“now,” lucius snapped. narcissa reluctantly trotted to his side as he and the other death eaters walked away.

“well, how about that?” sirius instantly relaxed, his lazy smile resting comfortably on his lips once more.

“merlin, i hate them,” james grumbled.

“hate’s a strong word, prongsy,” sirius teased before turning back to you. “well?”

“well, what?” you blink.

“well, are you okay?” sirius elucidated.

“i’m perfectly fine.” you smile. “thanks.”

“who are we to deny a damsel in distress?” james grinned.

“i’m not a damsel, and i was not in distress.” you instantly rolled your eyes.

“could’ve fooled me.” sirius snickered.

“be quiet.”

[adrian-sheppy]

RUNS IN HERE AT FULL SPEED AND TRIPS OVER A BEAST

HI EXPLODES I LOVE YOUR WHOLE UNIVERSE THANG CAN WE GET HEADCANONS ABOUT THE SHEPHARDS? CURIOSITY,,,,

THAJNK U!!!! :DDDDD ues lets talk about the shephards (not mitchell or moint pan rhey aren't included...) ((is moint pan even a shephard??)) a few hcs n stuff under mread more! :3

ALL of the shephards love creatures, something they all can bond over. Unlike the Freemen who can get pretty divisive, these Shephards actually get along pretty okay! And they all like og Freeman.

OG Shephard (he/they) is a thrill-seeker. Quiet, kind, and observant. Not the brightest bulb, joined the military bc he's shit at school (and for funsies). Friends with Tommy & John Freeman. Passionate about animal care and mechanics. Sticks to taking orders, only really stands his ground when they're fed up/annoyed. Casual gamer, good at flappy bird. nerf darts are scattered around his living place. he likes to stay busy with tasks.

Mindrian (he/him) is a disney princess. He's also a theater kid and took improv classes (he says "yes, and..."). Jocky nerd. God's nappiest soldier, he loves naps. Friends with Barmey, Martini, & Benrey. Awkward in large groups but knows how to enthrall small DnD parties with whimsical tales. Keeps dice on him. Sentimental. Despite how he carries himself, he is a dorky loser (with a semblance of charisma). PC gamer

Slaydrian (she/her) is quiet. She's strong-willed, not afraid of speaking her mind, and does so bluntly. Powerhouse. She's not mean, but comes across as dismissive because of her rbf + harsh way of speaking.  She's only visibly excited when Creatures are involved. Usually hangs out with Corp. She'll garden with them, and loves to take care of animals/insects + research about them. the person who has the wikipedia article for "ants" on their phone

Corporation (they/them) is pretty silly. Something about Corp is really endearing to those around them. Short and chubby. They love to garden, paint, do crafts, and cook! Always busy with something. Hates oil companies to a comical degree. they're very persuasive, despite speaking muffled gibberish. the others suspect them of being an eco-terrorist. Stays mostly with Slaydrian or the other GTE guys, but occasionally hangs out with Freemind & Martini for anarchy reasons.