#i'm probably grasping for straws

[happydragon]

While Echo being back is scary, it does support a theory I've seen once or twice that has to do with the last episode.

So we know that the last episode is called The Calvary has Arrived. We also know these are Wrecker's first line he's ever said. When referring to the cavalry, he meant the bad batch. Not just a part of the batch but the whole group. This leads to my theory that Tech will come back because he's a part of the bad batch and they can't have a cavalry without him!

[very-uncorrect]

I click off immediately

[spydere]

Random Worm thought:

Is Shadow Stalker supposed to be an ineffective Hulk for the Wards?

Corrupted (made angry) by their powers, uncontrollable, point them at a problem and watch them go to town (even if Stalker is one of the weaker Wards), on the Heroes side even if she really doesn't belong there

Or am I reading too deep into it and she's just a standard 'Mad Dog' character in the hero roster?

[angxliquel]

thinking thoughts about how Yaz and Sammy both have episodes surrounding them where the word "long" is used- "The Long Run" and "The Long Game"- but it meant something completely different in each scenario. For Yaz, the distance ITSELF was long; she had to really push herself in the speed sense and go as fast as possible to get from point a to point b (literally across the damn island). For Sammy, it wasn't so much the distance as it was the pace. Kash was literally RIGHT there, she could easily go up to him and make her presence known. But she had to play it safe. She had to take it slow. DO YOU- DO YOU SEE WHAT I'M GETTING AT

[cassmouse]

HELLO

[psalacanthea]

it's nice to see people trying to link together things into a coherent single character for That Character from That Game but honestly it's just not working for me on ANY level. There is no coherent characterization. The stuff you're claiming The Character was thinking in the first game they appeared in due to the second are simply not true because those things didn't exist when they made the first game. Actions, intentions, the emotions that make choices understandable...they didn't exist, the effort they made at characterization failed, and there's a clear disconnect between iterations that they hid beneath a veneer of 'oh well he lies' (for me. I'm talking about myself. don't fucking reblog this like it's an attack on you or I'll eat you).

The Character that did those things did not exist in the first game.

Examining character is a fun fandom activity, but when the actual characterization in later iterations is not at all coherent with earlier iterations...it feels like trying to nicely wrap a really weirdly shaped package. Put the shiny paper on and hopefully it'll look like a present. Patch it with tape until it looks okay enough.

This isn't me saying that meta posts trying to make everything coherent are bad; it's a time-honored fandom tradition, and important to the ecosystem.

It's just not vibing with me this time for some reason.

It's a very disappointing feeling as someone who once really liked that character.

[rufusrant]

two cool cats. original photo by yapan12

[the-herdier]

Please excuse the cringe but as someone who doesn't have to use a cane but DOES likely have hypermobile knees and also had hip dysplasia as a baby that may still be affecting her gait I feel like I can relate to Viktor juuuuuust a little bit sometimes because that screwed-up gait means I trip and stumble over my own feet ALL THE TIME and it is so annoying.

[drop--pop--candy]

hm. i don't want to get my hopes up. but maybe the reason i only remember good things really spottily and i can't distinguish them from dreams is because i was kind of raised to think that good things = dreams, bad things = reality. so. maybe if i can change the way i think about it i'll start remembering more

[bathenaswopez]

geia + endgame material

[kinetic-elaboration]

.

[biscuitmango]

God I'm having such a hard time trying to do literally anything but doomscroll

Can't even focus on video games

[servicpop]

obsessive ( nsfw ) obsessive toji f. x oblivious bttm male reader

Toji hated how oblivious you were.

You could run your pretty little mouth to a cafe worker and overlook the yearning in their eyes, or you would turn a blind eye to when your co-worker at your part-time job asks so blatantly for your number, but you just disregard it as just so you could be called in when they call sick.

He doesn't say anything about it, not when you two are out getting drinks — since it was your payday — and he sees a girl approach you, batting her eyelashes blotted black with mascara and throwing meaningless compliments at you. He only glares, his hand slipped around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as if he was voicing his complaints through actions.

But of course you brush him off, saying something along the lines of 'she probably wants to be friends,' which undoubtedly ticks him off.

A smile, however, graces his scarred lips when he sees the girl's eyes flicker to the hand around your sides and backs off ever so slightly and he swears he would never but he most definitely flipped her off while your attention was on her.

When your drinks were finally done, the worker handed it to you, and god did Toji almost throw a straight punch when he saw your fingers brush together. Why was everyone gunning for you? When he first started going out with you, he simply assumed that no one would dare come close because of his looks, but now, people didn't even look in his direction, only yours.

"You're like a fucking angel," He grunted under his breath, placing the paper straw that would eventually disintegrate from him chewing on it inbetween his lips to take a sip. You turn your head to ask him what he said, not being able to hear it through the rumble of his voice, but he replies with a blunt, "nothing."

Throughout your whole 'date,' Toji was just getting increasingly pissed off about the whole ordeal. Guys and girls were approaching you, trying to start up a conversation, and as the sweet little oblivious boy you were, you'd engage, which always ended in Toji having to scare them away with a glare and a hand wrapped around you.

The ride home was fairly quiet; Toji wasn't a man of many words but he couldn't shake off the jealousy that he desperately wanted to bury. His fingers brushed against his scarred lips, a habit he's adopted over the years, and his leg bounced repetitively before the words just spilt out from his mouth like gates opening. "Does it not bother you?" he speaks in a rather hushed tone, almost like he's trying to restrain the jealousy in his voice.

"Bother me how?" You question, getting out from your seat once you've reached your home. Toji is left trailing after you like a stray dog while the key chains on your keys clink together as you unlock your front door.

"When people are always coming up to you," Toji grumbles, extending an arm above your head to hold the door open for you. "They're interested in you, can't you see that?" His hands find their way to rest on your waist and he pulls your back to his chest. "I'm right here and you still wanna shoot your shot with someone else?" Toji has forgotten all about keeping his obsession over you at bay, all he wants to do is knock some sense into you.

Before you can even refute his words, Toji already has his hands crawling underneath your shirt. His large, thick fingers finding your chest to pinch at your nipples, twisting them lightly. One hand leaves your chest while the other is splayed across it, holding you back as he pulls at your waistband, stretching the elastic out to look down at you.

"Already hard and I've barely touched you," He tsked, and contradictory to his words, his hand wanders down to touch you more. He pulls at your pants, slipping them down until they pool at your ankles before he runs a finger along the bulge at your boxers.

You instinctively whine and grasp his forearms in a futile attempt to stop his hands but you just end up twitching in his hold. "What? Don't want it? Thought you loved attention," Toji slips his hand lower, trailing down so he could press the pad of his fingers to your hole through the fabric. There's barely any friction or penetration to get you going so your hips jerk back, pushing against Toji which elicts a low groan from the man.

"Yeah, yeah you do, you fucking love it," His laugh comes out harsh and he's folding himself ontop of you, getting you to bend over more. Both his thumbs link underneath your waistband and pulls it down with a small whistle. Toji's arm then constricts around your waist where your body bent, holding you up so you didn't fall or escape. For a second he holds you still and all you can hear is the clink of his belt coming off and the small pops of his buttons.

"Stay still for me yeah?" He growls in your ear, tugging at his own clothing to get them off. He snakes his hand to your front, curving underneath to slip a finger inside. His arm is brushing so lightly against your now erect cock, but he refuses to touch it.

You could feel every knuckle pushing into you, squeezing against his fingers as you panted. His other hand finally makes it to your dick, using his fingertips to pull your cock against your stomach, tracing his nails along the underside. This ripped out a moan from your throat, your arms thrashing around from the feeling but Toji's arms are so tangle with yours its hard to move.

"Oh? So that's where you're sensitive, huh?" He's blatantly mocking you, taking his anger out on you. You whine again when Toji starts to spread the fingers nestled inside your walls, scissoring you to stretch you out. "Open up for me baby, I know you ain't shy," he keeps his fingers apart, taking his own dick and lining it up to your gaping hole.

He pushed in, and once you fit his tip through, he pulls his fingers back out, plugging you with his thick dick.

Toji hums contently, grabbing both your arms and pulling them back to his sides. You're already arching and he's got a great view of your back. "I feel like you're gonna split in half, God," its a shaky laugh because of how much you're squeezing him, wringing him out of whatever he has to offer. He pulls his hips away from you before he slams back in, the hands on your wrists pulling you against him with each thrust.

You can't do anything with your hands pulled behind your back, Toji's just using your body, handling you like you were a puppet and your arms were the strings.

You can hear Toji groan in frustration but before you could question it, Toji moves his hands, gripping your thigh and pulling it up. His other hand holds your side, as he pistons his hips into you in this new position. "That's deeper, yeah?" He groans into your ear, and you wobble from being forced to stand on one leg but Toji just tightens his grip around your waist.

Your whole body shudders when Toji finally reaches your prostate, hitting right up against it. A grin slowly emerges onto Toji's face when he sees your eyes go blank, and he knows he's found your sweet spot. "There we go, shit I was getting mad 'cause you weren't reacting that much." Toji's fingers dig deeper into the plush flesh of your thigh, and he laughs breathlessly at the obscene sound of his balls hitting against your skin.

"You take it like a champ y'know," he whispers through his teeth, "I'm so mean to you but you don't complain, huh?"

You're too far gone to even hear his words, your warm, wet walls clenching around him as you let out a small cry before coming as hard as you could, the sticky liquid falling straight onto your wooden floors. Toji's condescending laugh rings through your ears as the hand on your waist moves to your tummy, pressing down so he could feel himself rearrange your guts.

And apparently, that gets him off. Alot.

With one more thrust, Toji groans loudly, emptying for all he's worth into you. He pulls out almost immediately so he could see the white globs drip down your inner thighs. He lets go of your thigh that he was previously holding in the air and squishes them together, slotting his cock back between your sticky thighs to ride out his high.

He's peppering light kisses and small bites on your shoulder before speaking in a husky voice, "You gonna let people hit you up?" He asks, and you can barely reply from the physical exhaustion, "...No."

[gremlingottoosilly]

Blind!Reader who accidentally bumped hard into Mafia!Konig, hard enough for to Konig thought it's some punk who wants to pick a fight with him but only to find a cute girlie with a walking stick that sprawled on the floor because of the wall of meat he is (feel free to use the "you hurt your ankle!?" excuse for him to take Blind!Reader for his own)

Konig was ready to kill when he felt someone bump into him. A fucker should be blind not to notice this wall of muscles and bottled anger coming his way - and Konig sure as hell would make them blind if they are dumb enough not to look around when they are walking. His hand goes to grasp his gun - an instinct, in case the fucker wasn't just dumb, but an enemy...and then he hears a whimper. Clacking of a stick falling to the ground. Cute whimpers. Female whimpers. The "oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to bump into you, but they changed the street layout since winter and-" God, you were fucking adorable. Precious. Pretty. Cute. Whimpering like a kitten when he helped you stand up, letting you clutch on his hands as a guiding line. Supported you by your waist while handing you the walking stick - and not letting go of your body even as you were trying to stand up without being wobbly. He knows you're probably fine, you didn't fall that badly, but he grasps for straws in trying to keep you by his side. Apologizes, even, his nervous and anxious self returning for a second as he understands that the situation isn't about possible murder. It's about possibly finding a cute girlfriend. Now, he obviously can't leave you to fend for yourself. Konig doesn't care that you survived on your own and is perfectly fine without him - he also doesn't care that you really hate having him dote over you like you're some helpless creature. He needs you by his side, preferably under him, and the fact you survived for so long on your own actually doesn't say anything - he needs to protect you, even if it means being as overbearing as possible. Even if it means simply picking you up like a lost cat and getting you over his shoulder, squeezing your ass one time before packing you into a dark vehicle. You can calm down by trying to memorize his face through your hands, and he can memorize himself with the curves of your sweet body. God, he is going to enjoy making you his...even if it means locking you up in his mansion so no enemy could use you to get to him.

[ddejavvu]

Hey sorry for not reading ur request guidelines before sending an ask last time! Ok how about spencer reid as a best friend with no boundaries? It would probably seem like they're married to bau team because of how they act and how not touchy/germaphobic spencer usually is. And also like 👀 even if it wasn't spencer, that's really touchy. I hope the other ask didn't annoy u too much! Have a good day!

fem!reader

--

"Hold this," You shove your drink into Spencer's chest, and it leaves a dark splotch against his white button-down. His tie is unscathed, but he barely manages to catch it before you're crouching down to pet the dog that's jumped at your calves. It's a little one, but you have no problem crouching down to meet them in the middle of the sidewalk as the owner apologizes for its intrusiveness.

"That's okay! I'm not allergic, or afraid." You hum, delighted to scritch the dog beneath the chin, and Penelope gladly joins in. You're both blocking the sidewalk now, but Derek's there to let you know if anyone's coming, so Spencer focuses on not letting your drink stain any more of his outfit.

Hotch watches the way that he tucks it into his palm, suddenly not minding the clammy condensation against his skin. Spencer never picks up a to-go cup without a napkin, but Hotch supposes it's just not an option at the moment.

After a few more moments of you and Penelope practically melting the dog into the pavement, you all go on your way again, and you reach for the cup in Spencer's grasp with eager hands.

"Did you try it?" You ask him, hands already around the cup, but when he shakes his head no, you shove it towards his face, "Try it! It's good, it's strawberry lemonade."

Now, everyone knows that suggesting that Spencer should drink out of someone else's cup is like suggesting that Hotch should start rollerblading around the office. They know it wouldn't happen in a hundred lifetimes, but apparently this is the hundred-and-first, because Spencer cranes his neck down to put his lips on the straw.

No one wants to discourage Spencer's miraculous bravery in the moment, so there's no eruption of sound, but everyone turns to give each other wide-eyed, meaningful glances. They all say, 'what the fuck?', but no one breathes a word.

"It's okay." Spencer nods, gnashing his teeth against something, "There's pulp in there."

You shrug and take the drink back, your hands brushing Spencer's own. Your hands, that had just been raking through the scruffy fur of a dog you'd met on the street, come into contact with Spencer's own skin, and he doesn't recoil. You begin meandering back towards the office like nothing's happened, with Spencer hot on your tail, and the rest scramble to follow.

Emily feels almost light-headed as she chases after Spencer, her steps staggered and uneven, "Hey, uh, Spence?"

"Hm?" He turns to watch her, and JJ bypasses the pair to plant herself firmly at your side.

"You don't mind that her hands were all over that dog a second ago?" Emily nods down at Spencer's hands, "I mean, I think it's great, I'm just surprised you haven't pulled out a package of wet wipes or something."

"It's kind of gross," Spencer thinks, his nose scrunching slightly, "But I can wash my hands when we get back to the bullpen."

"And the drink? That was bold, Spence. Does it not bother you anymore?"

She's not trying to push, but she's equal parts proud of Spencer's development and in awe of what she's witnessed. He thinks for a moment, then hums, "I don't mind drinking from her cup. I've known her forever. We're best friends."

Emily's mouth falls open, lipstick lining her lips pristinely, "Hey! We're best friends!"

"Well- I mean! It's just different, I don't know." Spencer shrugs, "I- I don't know why. It just bothers me sometimes and other times it doesn't."

Emily is barely placated, but she nods regardless, "Well, I'm proud of you. Even if the strawberry lemonade wasn't great."

Spencer smiles and nods, but the conversation ends as soon as your hand grabs his own.

"Look! Those are the pants I was telling you about the other day," You begin prattling, and JJ shifts seamlessly to Emily's side as the two ladies watch Spencer's hand intertwine easily with yours. His is clammy, they're sure, but he doesn't let go or try to wipe it on his pants, which is what happens every time someone ignores his warnings and gets a handshake from him. The two can hear Derek frantically giving Penelope a whispered play-by-play, but Emily doesn't want to hear the gossip: she's just glad that pulpy strawberry lemonade isn't the only thing Spencer's newfound bravery will grant him.

[corpseontheloose]

Silly syringes

summary: You met Nam-gyu during a bad time of his life, probably the worst he's ever been, but somehow you pulled him away from that grasp. Now everything left from that are memories and scars

A/N: pls don't do drugs kids

Warnings: past drug usage/addiction (on Nam-gyu's side), scars, bad habits, domestic!nam-gyu

Pairing: Nam-gyu x reader

You met Nam-gyu on a random Friday night in the club he worked at. He walked like he owned the place, which half of that statement was true.

You weren't big on clubs. Parties? Kind of. If that meant just you and your usual friend group. But clubs? It was a whole different story.

You couldn't blend in with the others. You were pretty awkward, and, truthfully speaking, you enjoyed sitting at the bar and sipping from your drink much more than breaking your head on the music.

You were on your first drink as you tapped the rhythm of the playing song on the counter using your finger, swinging your head on the beat, and, if you were lucky enough to hear a song you were familiar with, you'd softly mouth the lyrics.

Your friends were out there, somewhere. You just couldn't see them.

"Not a big fan of dancing?" You suddenly hear a voice from the other side of the counter. He wasn't the bartender that served you earlier, but he still looked like he worked here.

He picked up a few shot glasses and started wiping them, making sure they were extra clean.

"Not really, I'm more of a drink enjoyer" you replied, smiling stupidly.

He only smiled back at your words before throwing away the paper towel somewhere under the counter as he leaned across the bar.

"Want another one?"

He nudged with his head at your almost empty glass, the straw resting over absolutely nothing.

You raised an eyebrow, thinking for a minute before nodding your head.

He carefully picked up the glass and washed it quickly before preparing your new drink, stealing glances in your direction, making you smile instinctively.

That's how you met Nam-gyu. The worst part is that he was sober only 10% of the time. So that night at the club? He was high as hell but head over heels for you.

At first he didn't want to tell you. He kept it a secret. He didn't want to risk screwing up something that was building slowly and beautifully just because he was addicted to syringes and substances.

He was ashamed of himself, but he couldn't deny how good they made him feel.

You slowly noticed the patterns, however. Dilated eyes, jaw going places, shaky hands...

It made sense why Nam-gyu avoided you during his work nights and pulled himself forcefully to be sober for at least a few hours the next few days, just to spend time with you without scaring you, or without any judgment from you.

But the drugs... they never leave completely. Even after a few days of staying sober, the body would visibly react due to addiction and withdrawal.

That, and the fact that you took a glimpse of Nam-gyu's arm. Scars were extremely visible, piercing at his veins, and bluish-purple bruises were forming around the swollen injuries.

You gulped, not knowing how to approach this. You didn't even know if you wanted to approach this subject in the first place, but something as serious as this needed to be discussed one way or another.

Until one day.

"Nam-gyu. Why do you have IV scars?"

That question made him freeze in his track as his coffee mug was slowly slipping from his hands.

Of course...

Of course you'd see that. Of course you'd notice the drugs even when he wasn't drugged.

Of course everything screamed 'junkie' over his body even if he didn't touch any substances for that day.

Of course he was too foolish to not cover that before coming over.

He mumbled words in embarrassment, shame taking over him.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry I—I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid and..."

You looked at him with a gap between your lips and a few tears forming in your eyes.

"Shit! I can't even explain it properly because you wouldn't understand. But I like you—I like you so much I didn't want to ruin... this."

He shakes his hand between you and him.

"I was so afraid to tell you because you're so good to me and..."

The conversation was long. Explanations were pitiful.

It made sense.

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, or even dislike him for that matter. He was suffering, and you've seen right through it, like he wished someone could do for him.

So you stuck around. You tried to help him in your own way. At first he didn't want help. Said he didn't need help. But you knew that was far from true.

He managed to change his habits, slowly, but efficiently. His body was already damaged, scarred, and far beyond a full recovery, but it was never too late to stop using the substances.

He promised he'll change.

For you, he did. For you, he tried.

That's how he became 2 years clean. The smell of weed was now making him gag, and the sight of syringes made him flinch.

Not because he was scared of them, but because he didn't want to accidentally break the promise he made to you.

Syringes were now in his past, and he was proud of that.

He would often gaze at his arms slightly, getting a harsh reminder that he was once just a junkie.

Before he met you.

He was so grateful for your existence and how much you did for him.

He loved you.

You started dating after he felt like he was stable enough to properly offer you days with no withdrawals or nights with cuddles instead of fights or desperate wall grips for another pill.

And you guys live together now!! And he was the cutest, most careful boyfriend.

He still worked at the club, but he knew better than to lace himself with drugs ever again. He wouldn't do that; he had self-control now. He had the love he needed now.

One random night you'd cuddle with him as his arms hovered over your body lazily.

You flicked your eyes open, knowing Nam-gyu was as awake as you.

You traced the tattoos on his arm using your finger, tickling him slightly.

He didn't flinch, however.

You reached his scars, and suddenly you stopped before softly pressing your finger over them.

"They're healed..."

You whispered, trying not to disturb the silence.

Nam-gyu turned to face you before looking at his own arm as you continued to trace the scars.

"Yeah..." he replied.

You smiled softly to yourself as you felt a wave of pride washing over you.

You were so proud of your boyfriend. Only you knew how much soul and struggle you had to put up there so he could stop with his unhealthy coping mechanisms.

He fell silent as his head nuzzled in your hair.

"Thank you..." he whispered.

You were confused for a moment before you felt the arm over you shift, capturing you in a sweet, warm hug.

"You saved me from myself..."