detectiveheartthrob

[detectiveheartthrob]

warning: i’m very touch starved so if you hug me for more than ten seconds i might fall in love with you

[detectiveheartthrob]

[detectiveheartthrob]

Reblog if your muse can speak more than one language

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🚨 Reblog if your muse is a criminal or works for the police

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Send in 🍷 to walk in on my muse WASTED

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Send 🔒 and my muse will reveal ONE secret to yours

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*bottles up emotions* this coping shits easy

[detectiveheartthrob]

Memory Meme

Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

–

❥ - a childhood memory

♣ - a fading memory

✂ - a vivid memory

✖ - a repressed memory

✈ - an eye-opening memory

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

☤ - a memory of death/loss

✍ - a memory of their mother

☽ - a memory of their father

♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)

✌ - a memory of a relative

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

✓ - a sexual memory

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

[detectiveheartthrob]

CAN YOU LIKE OR REBLOG THIS IF YOU ARE A SAFE SPACE FOR MUSLIM ROLEPLAYERS?

YOU WILL BE ADDED TO A MASTERLIST TO MAKE THIS COMMUNITY A SAFER PLACE FOR US. 

[detectiveheartthrob]

Reblog if...

Your blog is anon-friendly

Your blog is magical-anon-friendly

Your blog is open to starters aimed at them

Your blog willing to respond to open starters

Your blog is open to questions about headcanons

[detectiveheartthrob]

Tom snorted, mumbling, "oh well 'm s'rry, but I didn't exactly plan on gettin' coshed 'round the 'ead, y'know. Bleedin' eejit wi' a fuckin' crick't ba', of 'll thin's." He stared at the water bottle with a fair amount of suspicion, considering he had no idea who this woman was or what she wanted with him. "'M no' Dor'thy," he grumbled, "name's Tom. An' wh't're you talkin' 'bout my pan's for? 'S not like you c'n see 'em." He touched the side of his head, wincing, and his fingers came away bloody. He stared at it, feeling like a complete idiot as he watched his hand become three become one become two, the colors going a bit fuzzy. Tom shivered a bit, suddenly chilled for no discernable reason. He looked at the woman again, holding his hand out so she could see. He felt sick. "Níl sé sin go maith. Ceart?"

@detectiveheartthrob​ || miscellaneous 

Tom knew he was in trouble as soon as he woke up. For one thing, his vision kept doubling and he had a truly awful headache. For another, he had no fucking clue where he was. The last thing he remembered was getting whacked in the head with a bat by a crazy American. And now there was a woman walking towards him. Tom scrambled to his feet, wobbling drunkenly. “Who’re you? Wha- where’m I?” he slurred, half-certain that between his accent and his mumbling that she couldn’t understand him at all.

“Whoa, hold on there, Dorothy.” Zoe held out her arms as leverage in case the man wobbled this way and fell. “Well you’re not in Kansas anymore, I can tell ya that.” She reached into her bag to pull out a water bottle and held it out to him. She couldn’t tell if he was concussed or just had a few too many last night and passed out on the road. “It’s not safe to be out here, y’know. Walkers could come by anytime.” Frankly she was surprised he survived in this condition, that no stray ones had been by to enjoy a late night snack. “Who are you? And where are your pants?” 

Okay that part was a joke, she couldn’t resist messing with the potentially drunen stranger a little bit. 

[detectiveheartthrob]

this dumb website is in need of some love, so reblog this if you like the person you reblogged it from!!!

[detectiveheartthrob]

Tom sheepishly extricated himself from the bushes, narrowly avoiding tripping over his own feet. "Sorry, I'm not used to anyone coming out here," he mumbled, trying not to aggravate any of his injuries. The other wolf that had showed up yesterday had been rather... hostile. And he was pretty sure he was coming down with something, going by how awful he felt. He tried to hide his fevered shakiness but knew it was most likely a lost cause.

Tom sniffled blearily, glancing at her in snatches. "I'm Tom," he rasped eventually, a harsh cough spilling from his lips immediately afterwards. Ow.

@detectiveheartthrob​ liked for a starter 

“Hey,” she called out, able to smell the other wolf a mile away. She could tell he was trying to hide from her, she already saw him though whether he knew that or not. “I can see you over there. Might as well come out, stalker.” 

[detectiveheartthrob]

Tom nodded sympathetically. Jamie had what Mum called "hair trigger allergies", so he knew what that was like. He was a little confused about the face she'd made, but the cauldrons were gross. He flicked his fingers, casting a wandless silent disinfecting spell he'd made himself, cleaning his hands before he dug into his bag and pulled out a pair of dragonhide gloves and a face mask like what Jamie wore in the spring. "Might be the wrong size, but they'll help at least."

He reached over to hand them to her and froze, blanching as several scabs tore on his back. It hurt, a lot, but the pain was familiar by now and he didn't dare draw attention to his injuries. (Da would be so, so angry if he did) He was honestly more worried about getting the stains out of his shirt later. "Um, you going to take these?" Tom felt rather awkward sitting there holding the stuff out, waiting for the Gryffindor girl to take it. (His arm still ached from Da wrenching it a couple days ago, no matter what healing spells he'd tried. He was just grateful that the bruises were gone.)

detectiveheartthrob‌:

Tom was more upset that he’d been caught than worried about his upcoming detention. It’d been such a tricky bit of spellwork, too. He fidgeted with his wand (“Try this one: blackthorn and dragon heartstring, 11 and a half inches, rather malleable,” Ollivander had said, two years ago. Then, once it had proven a match for him: “How very interesting.”), half-tempted to finish the spell as his eyes tracked his irate Head of House. The man’s hair was pink, his robes fiercely orange and trailing heaps of glitter. The robes were supposed to change colors, but he’d been interrupted. He glanced at the only other person in the room, a Gryffindor girl in his year. Halliwell. He’d never have guessed she was the one pranking bigots. He thought it was the Weasley twins.

Detention. For a month. With Snape. Cleaning the school cauldrons. Without magic. Shit. Tom regretted the spell just a tiny bit now. After all, he wasn’t just going to sit there while anyone mocked Potter for being an orphan, teacher or no.

He put his wand away, rolled up his sleeves, and started in on the cleaning, stubbornly ignoring the pain from all the welts on his back, mentally calculating how many more he’d receive when he went home for the summer and da found out how much he’d been in detention. “Oi, Halliwell. You a'right?” She looked horrified. “The cauldrons aren’t that bad.” He hoped she couldn’t somehow tell he had lycanthropy. He really didn’t want to get expelled.

@powerof3in1

Prue had spent a few detentions here in these dungeons – sometimes for nothing more than changing the recipe of a potion that could’ve used a bit of tweaking, in her opinion. Ridiculous, really. Now she was here, again, only this time without her usual companion but with another boy, a Slytherin she’d recognized from her year. 

She did fancy the thought of another student pranking her least favorite professor, however, it was most unfortunate that they somehow decided to prank him both on the same day…both spells clashing terribly. Prue sat at the table, quietly as she scrubbed out one of the cauldrons – not halfway through before getting a premonition. The heavy cast iron pot fell from her hands suddenly, her body stiffened as her mind showed her imagery of the future, although only bits and pieces. She saw Hogsmeade, footsteps in the snow with no one attached to them…the Shrieking Shack… 

Almost as soon as it began, the flashes ceased and Prue composed herself, faking a sneeze to cover up her premonition face. Apparently, she had one although had never seen it on herself. But if it looked anything like Phoebe’s, well, hopefully she could simply pretend it was allergies. Especially when Snape came over to see what the problemnoise was when she dropped the cauldron on the table. She excused herself, faking another sneeze, smiling a sarcastically polite smile until he left. 

Turning slightly towards Tom then, she realized he must’ve seen her face and immediately tried to play it off. “Oh, er, yeah, I’m fine, just.. this one’s really gnarly. Kicked up my allergies, is all.” The girl made another more disgusted kind of face at the pot, although it wasn’t a lie because the cauldron she’d been working on did have some particularly undesirable sticky goo at the bottom of it. Hoping that he’d buy it, she was left to wonder what the hell that vision meant and why she saw it in the first place. Those things were so random and meant nothing to Prue…yet. 

[detectiveheartthrob]

⊂(・▽・⊂)≡≡==──

Tom startled when Prue rushed in and hugged him tight. He was a bit confused (and touched) because he honestly hadn't thought she would care much if he went missing. He squirmed guiltily, trying to get out of the hug because he was filthy and bloodied and he was pretty sure three of his ribs were broken. "Erm, 'Rue? Not that this isn't nice, but can you get off, please? Not very keen on getting a punctured lung right now."

@powerof3in1

[detectiveheartthrob]

──==≡≡(つ・▽・) つ

Tom dropped his head on Prue's shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling a little. It was stupid early but he couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he was. "What're you," he yawned drowsily, "what're you doin' up, 'Rue?"

[detectiveheartthrob]

Tom was more upset that he'd been caught than worried about his upcoming detention. It'd been such a tricky bit of spellwork, too. He fidgeted with his wand ("Try this one: blackthorn and dragon heartstring, 11 and a half inches, rather malleable," Ollivander had said, two years ago. Then, once it had proven a match for him: "How very interesting."), half-tempted to finish the spell as his eyes tracked his irate Head of House. The man's hair was pink, his robes fiercely orange and trailing heaps of glitter. The robes were supposed to change colors, but he'd been interrupted. He glanced at the only other person in the room, a Gryffindor girl in his year. Halliwell. He'd never have guessed she was the one pranking bigots. He thought it was the Weasley twins.

Detention. For a month. With Snape. Cleaning the school cauldrons. Without magic. Shit. Tom regretted the spell just a tiny bit now. After all, he wasn't just going to sit there while anyone mocked Potter for being an orphan, teacher or no.

He put his wand away, rolled up his sleeves, and started in on the cleaning, stubbornly ignoring the pain from all the welts on his back, mentally calculating how many more he'd receive when he went home for the summer and da found out how much he'd been in detention. "Oi, Halliwell. You a'right?" She looked horrified. "The cauldrons aren't that bad." He hoped she couldn't somehow tell he had lycanthropy. He really didn't want to get expelled.

@powerof3in1