#no idea how or when the chuck stuff starts

[dravidious]

Very nice and cool you are

SO I finally started dumping my stuff on my geocities.ws account that I made like a year ago but it turns out that this site SUCKS but at least it can send .txt files so here's a fossil fighters card game that I made WAY more cards for than I thought I would

[drchucktingle]

a moment to check the gears and cogs

feel like i want to talk a little on the message of a recent post because i think it is an important point. when i say that you do not need to QUALIFY OR DEFEND your love of tinglers or my work in general, i am pointing out an interesting social anomaly that happens with my art and with queer art.

as an autistic buckaroo i notice patterns, and on social media i see them a lot. little phrases that come up again and again with my art. ‘yes THAT chuck tingle’ ‘its ACTUALLY good’ ’my favorite author i have never read’ ‘so bad its good’. these are always added after a POSITIVE comment about me

they also all have something in common. they are trying to distance the posters SINCERE JOY and give them an out socially. it is very very very subtle, but they are all saying ‘yes i like this but here is a sliver of acknowledgment that it is also weird or bad or ironic. in not REALLY fully in'

essentially these are added because it means the poster can escape their very real joy if needed. try applying these phrases to any other popular author. its much more subtle with the first two: ‘i liked all fours by miranda july, yes THAT miranda july. its ACTUALLY good’. what does this imply?

the other examples are a little more blatant but lets try them with other authors anyway. imagine saying ‘youre my favorite author i have never read’ to stephen king. would you EVER say that to someone? what does that imply? how about 'i love your books theyre so bad theyre good'. horrifyingly rude

lets dive into saying 'CHUCK TINGLE is my favorite author i have never read’ sounds unusual when substituting other authors because theyre usually not queer or autistic or making outsider art. to be blunt, why CHUCK gets it all the time is because it really means 'i like chuck tingle but im not gay’

while we have mostly culturally evolved past the idea that saying ‘no homo’ is some kind of joke, that FEELING is still around. it has just burrowed a little deeper. honestly it might never go away, or at least take centuries. remember these people GENUINELY LIKE MY BOOKS but feel they MUST qualify

should also be pointed out that LEFT and LIBERAL people are the ones who say this stuff to chuck. they do not MEAN to harm, and if you ask them directly how they feel about queer or neurodivergent people they would not express the same opinion as their subliminal comments might imply

the final elephant trotting by is while some of this is homophobia and fear of a neurodivergent other, it is also just plain old IRONY POISONING. its conditioning from being raised on an internet where sincerity was ‘cringe' and loving something was a weakness or joke. these problems work in tandem

so whats the point? what can we do? first of all, just recognizing these patterns is a start. i didnt HAVE to write all of this today but i think its important to be aware and to look inward and think about the gears and cogs that churn behind the things we say. NEXT step is trying to push past it

if you have done these things in the past, i want you to know i am NOT AT ALL UPSET. i am not mad or hurt and i do not think any less of you. you can trot by my side any day and you are trying your best to prove love. we are ALL just tryin our best, just consider this a friendly chat between buds

proving love can happen in BIG WAYS and it can happen in SMALL WAYS that we barely see. just take a moment and think ‘WHY am i saying this? WHY am i in this pattern to distance myself from outsider or queer art?’ a little moment of consideration goes a LONG way buckaroos. LOVE IS REAL

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Persephone 2.0

(Somehow, even when I come up with an angsty scenario it turns into zany comedy hijinks. Send help.)

Cassie, Tim, Kon and Bart are hanging out, just chilling, when a glowing green minotaur pops out of nowhere and yoinks Wonder Girl into another dimension.

Obviously, Cassie is so not down with the whole kidnapping thing, so she starts beating up all the Greek mythological monsters in sight. Soon enough, Pandora pops out of the woodwork and orders everyone to stand down.

Pandora: *sigh* I ordered you to escort her here, not drag her kicking and screaming. Ugh, it's impossible to hire competent help these days. Come child, we have much to discuss.

Cassie: Uh, it's an honor to meet you ma'am, but why am I here?

Pandora: It's quite complicated I'm afraid. To make a long story short, a few years ago the tyrannical ghost king was defeated by a young ghost hero, and by right of conquest the crown passed to him. However, since he has not yet reached the age of majority a regency council was put in place until he is old enough to be formally crowned.

Cassie: What does that have to do with me?

Pandora: You see, your father, Zeus, wishes to make an alliance with this new power...

Cassie: Oh no

Pandora: ...and so he has offered your hand in marriage to the young prince, as he once did Persephone's to Hades.

Cassie: That fucking asshole!

Pandora: And the regency council has accepted on the prince's behalf.

Cassie: *cracks knuckles* So, what's your opinion on patricide?

***

When Cassie meets Danny, she fully expects him to be some pompous asshole.

Danny: I am so fucking sorry!

Cassie: Huh?

Danny: *wrings hands* I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess! This was not my idea! But the council are a bunch of stuck-up jerks who think this is for the good of the realm and...

Cassie: So the wedding is off?

Danny: Well... unfortunately Clockwork is the one who floated the idea? And he only gets directly involved if it's like, end of the world kind of stuff...

Cassie: Who's Clockwork?

Danny: The Master of Time. He uh, helped me prevent a potential future where my soul got merged with that of my arch-nemesis and I miiiight have wiped out all life on Earth. But uh, that timeline is gone and you don't have to worry about it!

Cassie, muttering: Chronos?

Danny: So I think we might be stuck with each other, unless you have an idea on how to get out of this?

Cassie: Well my friends are bound to come rescue me, so...

Danny: Stall?

Cassie: Stall.

Queen Dora, popping in with a dozen handmaidens, a measuring tape and hundreds of dress and fabric samples: ~ Who's ready for a makeover? ~

Cassie: Oh gods just kill me now

***

Cassie and Danny both go full Bridezilla in an effort to delay the wedding, nitpicking everything from the clothes to the flower arrangements.

Cassie: I am not wearing some poofy monstrosity to my wedding. I want a tux! If anyone's gonna wear a dress it's gonna be him.

Danny, posing in front of a mirror: What do you think, can I pull off a mermaid cut?

***

Eventually, they can stall no more and the day of the wedding arrives. Zeus is there to give her away as the father of the bride. Cassie tries to stab him with the cake topper.

The wedding proceeds, they are standing in front of the Observant who is officiating. Cassie is glaring murderously at Zeus. Danny just looks resigned. Suddenly, there's a loud screech and a bang. The team has arrived to crash the party...!

...by literally crash landing the stolen Specter Speeder on top of Zeus.

*smash cut to a flashback of Tim reading the Drs Fentons' research and breaking into Fentonworks*

Tim, Kon and Bart pop out of the smoking wreckage.

Tim: We object!

Observant, outraged: On what grounds?!

Kon: Wonder Girl can't marry the ghost prince, because... because I'm marrying her!

Tim and Bart: Wait what?

Danny: Oh thank fuck *rips off his veil and dress and chucks it at the Observant* Cassie, do you want to marry Superboy?

Cassie: I do!

Danny: Then by the power vested in me by the Crown and Ring, I now pronounce you Super and Wonder. You may kiss the bride or whatever.

Cassie dip kisses Kon in front of the assembled ghost citizenry. Tim and Danny disappear into a broom closet during the wedding reception. Bart demolishes like 90% of the buffet by himself.

***

In a dark room, Clockwork is repeatedly watching Zeus get pancaked in slow motion and chuckles to himself.

Roll Credits

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim  looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

[lizaintheduster]

Oh my god, the idea that God keeps bringing Cas back because he thinks Dean moping around the bunker is boring is so funny. Like the first two times God brings him back, he does it right away cause he's like, "This freaky lil Angel is pretty interesting to have around. Let's throw him back into the mix." But then when he betrays Dean and dies in season 6/7, at first Chuck is just sipping Mojitos and luxuriating in the man pain, but then the man pain just. doesn't. stop. And fuck that's boring, Dean just won't stop moping.

So fuck it, let's give Cas amnesia and some weird wife, he won't have to be plot relevant anyway cause obviously he'll take on Sam's hell trauma, boom two birds, one stone. Now we can get back to the brothers brothering. Except fuck, somehow Cas has wound up going to purgatory with Dean, ugh lame. Well, let's just give Cas a few nightmares that really play into his self-loathing, that should be enough to get him to stay behind, the self-deprecating sad sack. But shit, didn't think this through, Dean's out and he's already looking pretty mopy.

No worries, just gotta push Naomi in the right direction, just a little nudge, there we go. Cas is back, but with a tasty little twist of Heaven mind control to keep him out of the narrative. Excellent. Screw it. Maybe Naomi could even get him to turn on Dean? Dean could kill him, that would be awesome. Wait, why the hell isn't Dean fighting back? Get off your knees! Cas can't kill Dean, that's lame, I'll have to think of some way to bring him back... wait, wait what? Did he just snap out of Angel programmed mind control? Oh for fuck sake, this is gonna be such a pain in the ass.

Blah blah, several more seasons of trying to keep Dean and Cas apart including having Gadreel fall near the hospital, retconing how Reapers work so one can try to take out Cas, pointing that weird pink Goo Angel in a Cas shaped direction, having it so that stolen grace is a thing that drains away, but nothing is God Damn Taking. The Angel is still up and kicking, and for some reason, Dean seems hung up on the broken little thing.

Right, time for mental warfare. If just the right digs are made at just the right times, maybe, maybe the Angels self esteem will drop low enough to... that's it. There it is. Say yes to Lucifer. Another betrayal, right, Dean? Right, Dean? Dean? Oh for crying out loud he's not even dead! Dean get over it, he said yes to Lucifer, he sucks Dean, why do you care? Ugh fine, let's say Amara's juice blasts Lucifer out of Cas, happy now? Fuck he's so boring when he's worried about what? A defective Angel?

Whatever, let's just throw some random side quests at them for a while. Surely, Dean will just lose interest eventually. Oh! Idea! Trap Dean and Sam in a government facility and then sabotage every attempt the Angel makes to save them. Again, two birds, one stone. Cas will feel useless and pathetic for failing to save Dean, and Dean will surely realise what a useless waste of celestial intent Cas is.

Okay, at this point, I should have seen this coming. Oh, thank me, Lucifer kebabed him. Light show, big burnt out wings for dramatic effect. This time, let's just wait it out. Dean can't stay single minded, drunk and hung up on Cas forever. Eventually, he'll realise he needs to step up to the plate and start parenting the Angel kid, I have some amazing Abraham and Issac stuff lined up, so we need to get moving with the bonding. Any minute now. Any minute now. Come on Dean, he's not even that strong anymore, why do you care? Jesus Christ Dean, you know your mom is also dead, right?

Screw it. Let's say Jack's powers can reach the empty. Shit does this mean I need to figure out how the empty works? I never got round to writing any of that. Okay, wow that was a choice, maybe I'll retcon the accent later... let's just focus on getting Cas back to earth, so Dean... aaaaand Dean has it wearing a fucking cowboy hat. How, out of all my universes did this glitch wind up infecting the original. Should have let the Angel just stay dead that first time, would have made my life so much easier.

Well, it's the final hour, might as well get one last hit in. Let's kill off the alternate universe people first, that should be just the right push to... perfect, yep, Dean blames death, and of course, Cas will follow. Hook line and sinker. I'll just let Death kill Cas, and then I'll have Death's weird poison thing wipe her out at the last second so Dean's still around for the end game. Oh? Oh, no way? You have got to be kidding me. This is priceless. He's actually saying it? That's the money shot right there. Wow. I need a margarita. Oh, but wait. Idea! Wouldn't it be perfect, just perfect, if Dean's childhood selective mutism were to make the briefest reappearance. Just for a second. Ahhh. You have outdone yourself, Chuck. No more revivals, Dean. I'm already bored.

[angel-sweets666]

how t some of the bakusquad boys initiate 👀

Bakugo katsuki x reader, eijiro kirishima x reader, Denki kaminari x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, more sexual stuff. No real sex tho Dw reader is mentioned to have a pussy but that’s the one gender mention

sorry I didn’t write sero I don’t have a good idea on his character

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

ALL AGED UP TO 18 AND IN 3RD YEAR

Katsuki bakugo

Bakugo either starts off subtly or straight up, no In between. He’s especially rough when he’s had a bad day

you roll over onto your side, typing to Mina about drama from class 3B (1B)When bakugo bursts open the door and slams it closed, practically making the door frame shake. “Had a bad day?” You asked him, still distracted on your phone and tapping away. Bakugo lets out a groan “I FUCKING-“ “inside voice.” You interrupted “I had a fucking ass day.” He still yelled as he threw his hero shirt and mask onto the floor, stomping over to you in bed. You peered over your shoulder and looked him up and down, noticing how dirty his boots are “bakugo take your boots off! Your filthy!!” You sat up and looked him up and down again. the blonde rolls his eyes and takes off his black and orange dirt stained boots, chucking them to the door. “There, better?” He grumbled, climbing into bed with you. “Yeah.. that’s better” you said as you rolled onto your back, bakugo sat up and pulled your legs apart and laying down on your chest. You could feel his length begin to grow harder and harder underneath you, he sat up and slowly began to rock his hips against yours. “shit- can we fuck?”

eijiro kirishima

sweet boy asks, and he’s so polite about it too! He wants to be a chivalrous hero and a great boyfriend in general to you. So of course he asks so politely:(((

you were washing some dishes in the common room, you and tsu had some noodles for lunch and you were just cleaning up the bowls from the food. Humming and dancing to yourself, kirishima watched from afar. You looked so pretty when you were happy like that, how could he not wanna fuck you? As you put away the last fork you suddenly felt a pair of very strong and solid arms wrap around you “hi baby!” You giggle and kiss his cheek, kirishima gives you a toothy grin and kisses your neck gently “hey sweetheart.. you look so pretty today” he tells you as he rubs your size “you wouldn’t possibly be in the mood would you?” He asks with his cheeks turning red “are you asking for sex?” You grinned to him and he nodded “yeah alright baby cmon”

Denki kaminari

My bro begs, like HE BEGS And not in a cute little submissive way I’m talking like really annoying “PLEASEEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE” while on his knees shuffling around to follow you

You were busy trying to clean out your dorm, preparing for graduation in the next few weeks. The task was already challenging, but it became nearly impossible with an electric blonde following you around on his knees, begging for you to let him fuck you

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, ILL BE QUICK!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you sorted through a pile of textbooks. "Denki, I really need to get this done. Graduation is right around the corner, and I can't leave my dorm looking like a disaster zone." He shuffled closer, still on his knees, and clasped his hands together dramatically. "But I need you more than your dorm does!” You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow “oh really?” You leaned your weight to one hip, Denki rolled his eyes then stood up, mild carpet burn on his knees from following you around “BRO YES? YOUVE GOT LIKE, A 10/10 PU-” “ DONT DAY THAT SO LOUD!” You covered his mouth then sighed “you know what… I could use the break” denkis face lit up “so… I can fuck you?” He asked with his face practically glowing as you nodded

I said I’d tag u next time I wrote for Denki kaminari so here! I hope it was as accurate as last time @b0o0o

[vinnyvamppp]

Rex x autistic reader? Reader stims a lottttt and loves attention <3

Blow It Up, Babe—It’s Therapy

Note: This was actually so cute. NOW BEFORE ANYONE ELSE READS, the person who requested this is someone I'm acquainted with, and I asked for advice regarding the reader's actions. If there's something wrong, PLEASE correct me and I will edit it.

Warnings: None, absolute fluff. Synopsis: Rex decides the best stress relief is blowing stuff up—Rex-style. What starts as a chaotic night of grenades and bad ideas turns unexpectedly soft when he realizes just how much he actually cares about you.

Rex Splode/Sloan x GN!Autistic!Reader

Word Count: 1,659

Rex had never been a subtle guy.

Not in fights, not in arguments, and definitely not in relationships.

So when he started dating you, subtlety went out the fucking window.

"Yo, babe, you good?" His voice cut through the static in your head before his hands did, warm fingers brushing against yours as you absentmindedly tugged at your hair. You hadn't even noticed you were doing it.

You paused, looking up from your spot on the couch, where you'd curled into yourself after a rough day. Rex was standing there, shirt half-buttoned because he was too lazy to finish getting dressed, some fresh bruises on his knuckles from whatever dumbass stunt he'd pulled during training. His eyebrows were furrowed—not in that annoyed way, like when Dupli-Kate ignored him, but in that actually-giving-a-shit way that made your chest feel warm.

You blinked, still not answering. Instead, you hummed—a little shaky, a little off-tune, but comforting nonetheless. "Yeah, okay, that ain't a real answer," Rex muttered, dropping down onto the couch beside you like he owned the place. Which, technically, he kinda did, considering he practically lived here now. "Talk to me. You in your head too much?"

You nodded, hesitating before lifting your hand. Flap, flap, flap. A quick burst of movement. His lips twitched. "Aww, hell yeah, jazz hands! That means you're perkin’ up, right?" You let out a laugh, short but genuine. "Not jazz hands—stimming."

"Same thing," he said, but there was no mockery in it. Just Rex being an idiot. "Yo, you wanna punch me or somethin’? Get some of that stress out? I mean, I ain't invincible, but I could take a hit." You rolled your eyes. "You literally bleed all the time, Rex. No."

"Hey, you pull your own hair when you're stressed, which is, like, way worse. At least if you hit me, it’s mutual destruction, babe." He smirked, clearly thinking he was being charming. You just sighed and reached out instead, running your fingers over the bruises on his knuckles. He stilled—not used to people touching him so softly—and let you inspect the damage like you were the one worried about him.

"Guess we both suck at handling stress, huh?" you murmured. He snorted. "Yeah, but at least you're cute when you do it." You gave him a deadpan look. "And you’re not?"

"Oh, babe, I know I’m cute," he shot back, leaning in. "Devastatingly handsome. Dangerous. A walking, talking panty dropper." You flicked his forehead. "Ow! Fuck!" He recoiled, rubbing the spot as you grinned. "Okay, rude. Here I am, tryna comfort my amazing, adorable, stim-happy partner, and I get assaulted?"

You just hummed again, but this time it wasn’t out of stress. You rocked slightly where you sat, letting the motion calm you, and Rex—surprisingly—didn’t make a dumb joke about it. He just leaned back, draping an arm over your shoulders, letting you move however you needed.

After a beat, he tapped your knee.

"Wanna go blow shit up?"

You blinked. "What?"

"I got some old grenades sittin’ in my stash. We could chuck 'em at some abandoned building, watch shit go boom. Bet it’d be good for, y’know…" He gestured vaguely, like that explained everything. "Processing or whatever." You stared. Then, finally, a grin cracked across your face. "That is your solution to stress relief?"

"Hell yeah. Big-ass explosion? Instant mood booster." His delivery made it an enticing offer. You take a few moments, only showing mock consideration as you mulled over the options deciding to humor him. It didn’t take much convincing for you agree to simply spend time with him. "…Fine. But I'm throwing first."

Rex beamed. "Now that’s my badass." You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull away when he slung an arm around your shoulders. It was easy with him, even when he was being loud and dumb. Which was, like, always. But unlike other people who’d get all weird or judgy about the way you moved or stimmed, Rex never acted like it was something that needed to stop.

Sure, he made jokes—because he was Rex Fucking Splode, and he made jokes about everything—but it never felt mean. Never felt like he was trying to change you. "Alright, come on, let’s get this show on the road," Rex said, hopping up from the couch like he had a firecracker up his ass. "I got, like, four grenades and a fuckin’ mystery explosive I stole from Cecil’s stash. Could be a dud, could be a nuke, who knows?"

You stared. "…That’s not reassuring, Rex."

He grinned like a little shit. "That’s ‘cause it ain’t."

You let out a sharp exhale—somewhere between a sigh and a laugh—and got up to follow him.

By the time you both made it to some abandoned lot on the outskirts of the city, the sun had fully set. The air smelled like asphalt and distant exhaust, and the only sounds were crickets, the occasional passing car, and Rex rummaging through his backpack like a raccoon in a dumpster.

"Aha!" He yanked out a grenade, holding it up triumphantly. "Boomstick number one. You ready?"

You flexed your fingers, bouncing slightly on your heels. "Hell yeah."

He tossed it to you, and you caught it, rolling the cool metal between your palms. Rex watched with a smirk as you tapped your fingers against the shell, feeling the ridges and grooves, stimming on it like it was some kind of fucked-up fidget toy.

"You gonna throw it, or you just enjoyin’ the tactile experience?"

"Both," you admitted.

He chuckled. "Alright, well, when you’re done getting all intimate with it, let’s see if you got an arm."

You grinned, then yanked the pin and chucked it hard. It arced through the air, landing dead center in the middle of the lot. A second later—

BOOM.

The explosion lit up the night, sending a shockwave through the ground. Heat flared against your face, and you felt it deep within your chest—vibrations rattling through your ribs in the best way. Your breath hitched, a small sound of satisfaction slipping past your lips.

Rex caught it. "Ohhh shit, you liked that."

"…Maybe."

His grin stretched wide. "Fuck yeah, explosions as stims! This is the best day of my life."

You laughed, rocking slightly from foot to foot, the sound of your hands clapping ricocheting off the nearby walls, letting the lingering thrill settle into your bones. There was something oddly soothing about the raw power of it, the way it cut through the static in your head and left behind a sharp, clear kind of focus.

Rex leaned against a half-collapsed wall, watching you with something like amusement. "Told you this would be a good idea. Stress relief, babe. Rex-style." You shot him a look. "And what happens when someone reports random explosions in the middle of the night?"

"Babe, it’s Chicago. Aliens invaded last month, you think the cops give a shit about a couple ‘nades going off?" He scoffed, digging in his bag again. "Here, lemme set up the next one." He pulled out the so-called mystery explosive, which looked way more complicated than a grenade. Wires, blinking lights—the whole ‘you’re probably gonna lose an eyebrow’ package.

"Rex," you said slowly, "do you actually know what that is?"

"Of course I do," he said. Then, after a pause: "…Kinda."

"That’s not confidence-inspiring."

"You wound me," he said, clutching his chest dramatically. "Trust me, I probably won’t get us killed."

You gave him an unimpressed look.

He grinned. "Seventy percent sure."

"Rex."

"Okay, okay! Jesus!" He huffed, shaking his head. "Y’know, you are so lucky I like you. Anyone else, I’d just tell ‘em to duck and hope for the best." Your movements stilled slightly, your very being going quiet in a way it didn’t usually do. Rex was still poking at the explosive, but your mind had latched onto something else.

"You are so lucky I like you."

Rex said shit like that all the time—loud and careless, like it didn’t mean anything. But with him, everything meant something. He wasn’t the type to do anything halfway, including feelings. If he didn’t like someone, he made it real fucking obvious. And if he did? It was explosive.

"Hey," you said, voice a little lower now. "You like me?"

He snorted. "Uh, yeah? No shit, babe, I’ve only been—" He cut himself off, eyes narrowing. "Wait, hold up. Are you fishing for sappy shit right now? Oh my god, you are!"

You huffed in amusement, looking away. "Maybe."

"Aw, c’mon, you can’t just admit it? Say it: ‘Rex, I wanna hear how much you loooove me.’" He was grinning like a bastard, but instead of pushing him away, you leaned into his side, letting him feel your full weight as warmth traveled across you two. He immediately shut up.

Rex wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely person—at least, not in a sweet way. He was all about slinging an arm around you, roughhousing, pulling you into his lap like a cocky shit. But this? Just leaning against him? For some reason, that made his brain short-circuit.

"…You, uh, doin’ okay?"

"Yeah." You rocked slightly, just enough to let the motion soothe you. "You’re warm." He coughed. "Uh. Yeah. That’s ‘cause I’m hot as fuck." You laughed against his shoulder. "Obviously." He hesitated, then—slowly, almost like he thought you’d swat him away—he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through your hair, gently, careful not to pull too hard.

Your breath hitched.

"You like that?" he murmured.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Rex exhaled, running his fingers through your hair again. "Cool. ‘Cause, uh. I do like you, y’know. A lot." You smiled against his shoulder. "I know."

"Good." His voice dropped into something softer. "Ain’t nobody else I’d rather spend my night committin’ crimes with."

"Technically, this is property damage," you pointed out.

"Pfft. Whatever. Semantics."

You hummed, then turned to press a quick, fleeting kiss against his jaw.

Rex went silent.

You pulled back, grinning. "…Boom."

His brain fully short-circuited. "Oh, fuck you—"

You just laughed in utter and complete contentment.

A/N: I MISS HIM AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[riddlemelater]

Last Call - M.R (Part 2)

masterlist | nav | part 1 | part 3

⚠︎ all characters 18+ | MDNI ⚠︎

warnings: alcohol use/dependency, mentions of war, death, depiction of injury/blood, dark themes, post-war vibes, implied trauma. etc.

w.c: 3.8k

summary: Mattheo Riddle was sharp, charming, and haunted. Now he’s just a shadow at the bar—drunk, quiet, unraveling. You don’t know why you care. Maybe it’s who he used to be. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you like he doesn’t expect kindness anymore. But one things certain: you won't turn your back on him, not like the rest of the world already has.

a/n: SURPRISE! Turns out I'm too excited to hold back. Thank you to all you lovely people who've reblogged and left your comments on part 1. I hope you're all ready to lock in... <3

feedback, reblogs, likes + comments are so greatly appreciated <3

"Say, Albion?" you asked curiously, eyes fixed on the far corner of the pub where a familiar group of elderly wizards sat. "Who's the one over there with the bushy brows? What's his name again?" Your head nodded over in their direction.

"Old Silas?" Albion huffed, glancing between the group and you as he dried a glass. You nodded as his eyes narrowed in thought, watching the man for a moment as if trying to place him.

"Silas Wimbly's his name. A Ravenclaw, if I remember correctly. Bit of a toff, came from old money. Parent's spoiled him rotten too, always sent him these massive parcels of sweets— And it was the good stuff, mind you. Liquorice Wands, Pepper Imps. You name it, old Silas had it." Albion shook his head dismissively, scratching at his chin. "Why d'ya ask, love?"

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. "No reason. Just curious s'all."

Albion's eyes settled on you, watching as you wiped over the bar for the third time in ten minutes. Pretending not to feel his gaze burning between your shoulder blades as you worked.

`'Hang on a minute. This isn't about that Riddle lad again—is it?" He asked in an accusatory voice. "I told you before not to go getting mixed up with him." His arms folded across his chest disapprovingly, head canting to the side as you avoided his gaze.

Albion was giving you his sternest Dad look. The older man had taken on a sort of father role when you'd first started here. With no children of his own, the pub was all he had, and as old age was beginning to catch up with him, he'd had no choice but to hire someone else. It'd just so happened that you, freshly out of Hogwarts, a year late due to the war, had been job hunting at the time.

He'd agreed to take you on, temporarily, until you worked out what was next and he'd found someone to train up to take his place. But that had never really happened, and instead, he'd trained you as his assistant of sorts. The plan had never been to stay long, but it seemed that life had other plans for you both. You didn't want to go back into education, and Albion didn't want to find someone new. It was as simple as that.

But now the look Albion was giving you worked all too well, and you sighed and let go of the rag you'd been cleaning with, turning to look at him guiltily.

"I just can't stop thinking about him. It's been three weeks Albs, what if—"

Albion shook his head fiercely, a hand gripping onto your shoulder to steady you. He bent slightly to meet your eyes, and as he did, that familiar pressure began to coil in your chest—guilt and worry rising fast, impossible to swallow.

"What if he's perfectly alright, hmm? Did you think of that?" He said softly, "Listen, I won't pretend I'm fond of the boy, Salazar forgive me. But you're the only family I've got, kid. If it really means that much to you, I'll ask around— Alright?"

Your eyes met his, noting the crooked smile and warm look on his face. Gratitude began to swell in your eyes and you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders thankfully.

"Thank you Albion," you murmured quietly into his shoulder, squeezing tightly. "You have no idea how grateful I am."

Albion chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and patting your back gently. Your cheeks warmed slightly as you pulled away from him, and he fixed you with a serious look once more.

"Look, you don't get far in my line of work without knowing where to ask." he said, and a smile spread across your lips. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best. And in the mean time, you just worry about pouring pints." He patted your arm encouragingly and winked.

You nodded feeling like a weight had been lifted from you. As if just knowing that you were doing something, anything, to find out where Mattheo had disappeared to, magically made things better.

The days trickled by, slow and uneventful. You were antsy, constantly fumbling for a task to distract you. You were showing up even earlier than normal, and you didn't leave till Albion himself was heading upstairs to his flat above the pub.

You didn’t ask for updates, mostly because you were too afraid of what he might say. But every time the bell above the door chimed, some part of you still hoped it would be him. Mattheo. Bleary-eyed, mumbling some half-arsed excuse, dark curls a mess from wherever he'd vanished to.

But it never was. And you were beginning to worry once more.

It was nearly a week later, just after last call, when Albion finally said your name the way someone does when they don’t want to be heard. There was a scarce few customers in, mostly nursing dregs of Dragon Barrel Brandy or Odgen's Firewhiskey. Quiet enough that no one would bat an eyelid at a hushed conversation.

You glanced up from the taps, anxious and expectant. But his expression was already answer enough.

"I asked everywhere I could think to ask,” he said, voice low, reluctant. “Nothing. No one's seen him." Albion frowned, placing a hand on your arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to let you down but it's like he's gone off the grid."

You swallowed, staring down at the bar blankly. "It's okay." you nodded, "Thanks for trying anyway, Albs."

Your voice wavered slightly, Albion didn't mention it, but you knew he heard it too. He'd just sighed wearily, the way old men do, and tried to soothe you quietly.

"He'll turn up, love. Try not to worry. Probably just had to get out of London for a bit, a change of scenery. Merlin knows this time of year is hard on us all. Him especially." Albion spoke gently, but you barely even registered his words. You just nodded, agreed with him despite knowing that your mind was already made up— You had to find out for yourself.

"I think I'll head early tonight, if that's alright with you? Try and get some rest." You murmured, wiping a hand across your tired face, "I'll be back in for my shift tomorrow, I can come in early if you need me."

Albion agreed, though clearly reluctant to let you out of his sight, "Alright love, you take as long as you need. I'll sort this lot myself." he said, throwing a glance over to the customers still sat with their near empty drinks.

"Thanks Albs, I really appreciate it." You replied, already untying your apron and turning to hang it on its peg. "See you tomorrow." you added, grasping your wand from beneath the bar and pocketing it.

Before Albion could say another word you'd already called a quick goodbye to the few regulars still left, and left the pub without another word.

You shivered, pulling your coat tighter as you walked along the street. Your mind was in overdrive, thoughts swirling around in your head like smoke. Mattheo had to be somewhere, you reasoned, in half a mind to turn up outside his flat unannounced. You would’ve already, if only you knew where he bloody lived. But you didn’t—and Albion knew even less about him than you did.

Someone had to know where he was.

Your mind flitted to his friends, to Theodore or Blaise, hell you were even considering writing to Draco Malfoy for information on his whereabouts. The only thing that stopped you was that you didn't have his address either, and you were certain the Magical Law Enforcement department wouldn't be best pleased with you wasting one of their top Auror's time with a suspected missing persons case.

That, and, you weren't so sure many people at the Ministry would consider Mattheo Riddle to be deserving of any official MLE resources.

There was one person you could ask, though, and it seemed your feet had already led you there against your better judgment. Your gaze flitted up towards the sign, which hung limply outside the dark pub, swinging gently in the breeze. Straightening your jacket once more, you slid a hand inside your pocket, pulling your wand out and slipping it up your sleeve.

Just in case.

It was risky, you knew it was, but you were desperate. And it seemed that no one could give you the answers you were looking for. So, seeking them out yourself was the next best option. A couple staggered out just as you approached, laughing too loudly, the smell of smoke clinging to their cloaks. One of them paused to eye you curiously, and you glanced away quickly, fingers tightening on your wand. Once they passed, you exhaled a deep breath, pushing open the door to the Leaky Cauldron and stepping inside.

Unlike Albion's pub, the Leaky Cauldron was still busy. Packed with witches and wizards, and all sorts of magical creatures— goblins, hags, vampires. You tried not to pay anyone attention, nodding politely towards Tom, the barkeep, as you brushed through the crowd and headed to the back door.

It had been a few months since you'd ventured into Diagon Alley, but as you tapped the brick, three up and two across from the rubbish bin, with the tip of your wand, you felt the same rush of nostalgia. Recalling the first time you'd ever come here, fondly.

The street unfolded before you in a familiar dance of moving bricks and old magic. Revealing shop fronts and cobbled streets, you'd spent the majority of your teenage years wandering in awe. But it didn’t feel like it used to. Back then, Diagon Alley had shimmered with promise. Now, under the haze of doubt and nightfall, it felt like a ghost of what it had been. Still alive. Just different.

During the war, many of the shops had been destroyed in Death Eater raids, including Olivanders wand shop. Though rebuilt to look like it once had, you could tell it was different now. Subtle details sticking out like sore thumbs, signs that had once been charmingly weathered and flaked, now sparkled bright and pristine. Like everyone was desperate to forget the way they'd been splintered and marred by pure evil.

It felt clinical now, off-puttingly so. But you weren't here to pick out every minor discrepancy you spotted; you were here for answers.

Summoning up the courage, you began to walk, ignoring the way your heart raced in protest. Albion would kill you himself if he knew what you were doing, but he didn't need to know. You'd be quick, in and out, no distractions.

You swallowed down a nervous breath as you spotted the sign for Knockturn Alley. Oddly enough, it was the most normal thing about Diagon Alley now, untouched by the raids, the paintwork was still as flaky and dull as you remembered it. Glancing up and down the street, you checked for familiar faces, just in case someone spotted you heading down into the heart of dodgy schemes and lingering dark magic.

You moved swiftly, back straight and wand clutched tightly up your sleeve. Prepared for anything— and anyone— you might encounter. The difference between Diagon and Knockturn was noticeable immediately; the cobbles underfoot became filthy and uneven, feet stumbling as you grew used to the terrain.

"Lost are we, dear?" A voice called out in a croaky voice. "I could help you find what you're looking for, you know."

Your head turned slightly, and you came face to face with an old woman, or at least, what you thought was a woman. Considering she looked exactly like the hags described in your old school textbooks.

Her face was covered in warts, teeth jagged and yellow, and she was hunched over against the wall as if unable to stand without support. Your eyes scanned over her briefly, taking in the long, spindly fingers that twisted together menacingly, her dirt-covered, splintered nails made you want to gag.

"I'm fine on my own, thanks." You hissed confidently, despite feeling very out of your depth, and swept past, continuing down further into the darkened streets.

She called after you faintly, and your face soured as you forced yourself to keep walking, keeping your eyes focused on finding what you were looking for. As you ventured further, you began to realise why you'd been so heavily warned to avoid Knockturn as a child.

Each figure you passed seemed to get worse and worse as you walked further, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up in apprehension.

Your eyes scanned across the shop fronts, skin crawling as you spotted a shop named Arachne’s Attic selling giant, black spiders all tangled in a vast web in the window display. The shop next door, aptly named The Shrunken Shrine, held large glass cabinets filled with shrunken heads and skulls, as well as various paraphernalia which could only be associated with dark magic.

You grimaced and hurried on, spotting Borgin & Burkes, the shop which had allowed Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts in your sixth year, thanks to the efforts of one— now reformed, Ministry Auror— Draco Malfoy, and the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

The discomfort of Knockturn was enough to put you off ever returning again, containing yourself as you passed yet another shop, named, rather tamely, Still Life. Selling taxidermies of two-headed ravens and what looked suspiciously like Grindylow Skeletons.

Still, you walked further. Finally, you reached the street where you knew the illegal vendors liked to set up shop. You'd recalled the Weasley twins talking about it once, having managed to wrangle it out of Mundungus Fletcher at some point in an attempt to procure some ingredients for their Skiving Snackboxes.

Your chest heaved a little as you thought of Fred— his ill-timed jokes and contagious smirk that had everyone laughing. Yet another person who'd died in the name of peace, that thought only spurred you on, though. Mattheo was still missing, as far as you were concerned, and you'd already come so far.

Wordlessly, you scanned a few of the vendors; a young witch with black teeth selling human fingernails, another selling jewellery you were certain was either cursed or stolen. Or both.

Until finally you spotted him, sitting on an old soap box with his goods stocked messily inside an open suitcase. Mick Tolliver looked exactly like the kind of man who traded secrets for sickles and would never think twice about it.

He sat slouched behind a warped, half-collapsed stall that seemed to have grown out of the alley itself, the wooden frame rotted and sagging under the weight of cursed trinkets and unlabelled jars. The tarp hanging from the roof of the stall was threadbare and looked more like old clothes, sewn together to create a makeshift canopy.

His clothes were greasy too, and like the stall, had many patches of mismatched material sewn over holes, like he'd tried to preserve them for as long as possible. He had the posture of someone who'd once been taller, but he was thin, sullen even, as if he'd lost a lot of weight quickly and his body hadn't been able to stay upright.

A wiry beard hung from his chin in uneven tufts, stained yellow near his mouth from years of smoking, and it was evident by the smell that lingered around him, he wasn't fond of washing either. His eyes, though— his eyes were sharp. Beady and watchful, flickering over you like one of his cursed items, he was already tallying a price for.

"Lookin' for something specific, sweetheart?" he drawled, voice low and oily, "Or has something caught your fancy?" He grinned, and you wished he hadn't. His teeth were yellow, and even from a distance, you could see bits of food stuck in them.

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed, face soured with disgust, but determined not to leave his stall without information.

"I can assure you nothing I'm seeing takes my fancy." You retorted sharply, hand grasping onto your wand tightly, still hidden up your sleeve and at the ready in case he tried anything.

His grin dropped, and his eyes dragged up and down your body. You felt sick just looking at him.

"What're you doing down here then, my sweets. Not exactly Knockturn material, are you?" He drawled, straightening up ever so slightly. His beady eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, "You an Auror? ‘Cause I swear everything I’m sellin’ is legit this time!"

You ignored the pet name and the blatant lie about his stock, despite how much you wanted to hex him into the middle of next week.

"I was looking for information, actually." You cleared your throat, stepping closer, "Heard you're an expert in that kind of thing, stuff not everyone knows."

His sickening grin returned once more, and he relaxed, a chuckle escaping him like you'd just told a joke. Your face remained serious, focused. Grimacing slightly as his laughter turned into coughs, his hand dipped into his pocket to produce an even filthier rag that he coughed into.

"Well, well, well, lovely... then you've come to the right place," he wheezed, suddenly intrigued, "what 'dya wanna know? It'll cost you, though, mind."

Your lips parted, ready to ask him what exactly he knew about Mattheo when his fist thumped down on the makeshift counter of his stall, eyes narrowed once more.

"Ah-ah-ah. Cough up, first. Then you get your answers," he demanded sharply. "Too many people givin' me the run around, not paying up when I tell them what they want to know. Company policy, you see." he grinned, sleazy and pleased with himself.

You sighed, reaching into your pocket with your free hand, then slapped five galleons down onto his table. But before he could reach out and take the gold coins, you grasped them tightly in your hand.

“Ah-ah-ah. Information first,” you said coolly, tightening your grip on the coins. “Gotta check if what you know’s worth it. Personal policy, you see.”

You weren't sure where the sudden bravery came from, calling the shots in Knockturn Alley was hardly what you'd expected when you'd wandered in. However, you were desperate, and this place had your skin crawling from the moment you entered.

He laughed once more, coughed a few times too, then sat back against the wall. "Now... I like you," he rasped, wagging a filthy finger in your face. "So what are you after? Cheating boyfriend? Some bloke not answering your owl? I can be real convincing, for the right price."

Your head shook, "Mattheo Riddle. What do you know about him?" You questioned directly.

Immediately, Tolliver's face paled— his sleaziness cut dead as his finger dropped limply. He no longer had that seedy look about him, instead, it was replaced by something else. Fear.

"Don't know nuffin about nuffin." He answered quickly, arms folding over. "And anyone who says otherwise is a bleedin' liar."

Your head tilted, eyes narrowed. You knew he was lying; no one became that defensive if they had nothing to hide.

"Come on now, Mick. I know you know something," you pressed, reaching into your pocket once more, "I'll make it worth it," you added another three galleons next to the pile.

That seemed to entice him slightly. His head twisted as his eyes flickered between you and the money, like he was on the fence. Sighing frustratedly, you reached down into your pocket and pulled out another two galleons, slamming them down for effect.

That seemed to do the trick.

"Alright, fine!" he grunted, leaning forward and sparing a glance up and down the street, "s'long as you don't tell anyone, I told ya."

"Deal. Now what do you know?"

He nodded again and glanced around, like he was trying to reassure himself.

"He's not dead, not like the rumours are sayin'." He whispered, "But he needed to disappear for a bit. Get away from it all."

Your pulse thudded quicker, "Disappear? Why?"

Mick scratched at his beard nervously, leaning closer again like the shadows might be listening. “All I know is, he was involved with something dark. Not just Knockturn-deep—worse. Real old stuff. Ancient magic. Blood debts. Curses that don’t leave a mark.”

You chewed your lip, a million thoughts racing in your mind. You'd read about Blood Magic before, briefly, whilst studying for your Ancient Ruins N.E.W.T.S. It was ancient magic, belonging to another world, long before this one. Before Hogwarts for sure, and even older than wand magic itself. Whatever it was, you knew it was serious.

You frowned, "Blood Magic? I thought that stuff had died out years ago. Way back in Merlin's time?"

He shook his head grimly, "There are some kinds of magic that don't go away, no matter how hard you try." He shifted again, glanced around at the other vendors and shivered. "Word is, he’s got people after him now. Not Aurors. No. Not even hit wizards. People who don’t show up on any bloody registry, if you catch my drift."

You blinked, a cold sensation trickling up your spine. "Well, where is he now?" You questioned, your nerves shot and begging to show. You pushed the feeling down again.

"I dunno. But if I were him, I'd be long gone. Somewhere far away and heavily warded. Keep them away for as long as I could."

His eyes narrowed, the greasy grin flickering back. “You close to him, sweetheart? Because if you are… You might want to stay out of it. Fellas like that? They don’t come back clean, that's for sure.”

Summoning your last ounce of courage, you shook your head, "Concerned party is all."

Tolliver hummed skeptically, as if he didn't quite believe you. And you didn't blame him, you hardly believed yourself.

"How'd you know all this, then?" you questioned, shooting your own skittish glance up and down the street, like suddenly you could feel the weight of more eyes fixed on you. Watching.

Mick only smirked smugly, crooked and not at all comforting like Albion's smile. "Ah, now that'd be telling, wouldn't it?"

One of his bony hands reached out to grasp at the galleons, instinctively, you pulled back, watching him bundle them away inside a ragged, cloth bag. He hummed to himself as he did it, tucking them away in an inside pocket in the lining of his coat.

"You didn't hear none of this from me." He spoke, standing hurriedly and closing over the suitcase that held his merchandise. "Word of warning, sweets. If he's alive, and you go sniffin' around... they'll come for you, too. Best give up on him now, your boyfriend's neck-deep in something no one crawls out of alive."

Before you could say another word, he disapparated with a loud crack that made you flinch. Mick Tolliver was gone, leaving you alone to stare at the ruined stall—and his warning lingering in the air.

©️riddlemelater. 2025.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

im very curious: in a scenario where ford got to vamp trap stan before stan got pulled into the alley, and therefore didnt know right away that stan was a vampire, how would that go? does ford try and convince stan to leave town to protect him from the mysterious beast or does he bring stan back to another safehouse? does ford get suspicious when the beast also moves on/vanishes? safehouse route feels like it could be a shitshow with more people around to see stan getting 'sick' and realising 'wait that guys not human!'

So I read this, thought for a moment, then burst out laughing about how this enhances both the comedy and horror possibilities.

Ford gets down to Stan, they have a Realization of 'oh shit thats my twin brother' the vampire jumps, and Ford kills them without Stan seeing any of their vampiric traits. Ford starts dragging him away, cursing his inability to keep Stan out of his world, but grateful he saved his brother's life. Zero realization about Stan's mangy hood.

So Stan still thinks Ford's a delusional serial killer in a murder cult, but Ford has no idea Stan's dead, as the only reason he knew in the first place was because he saw Stan feed. Stan doesn't get kidnapped, but he's determined to help Ford out of the cult and Ford wants to keep Stan close, because now that Stan's here and almost got jumped Ford realizes he's a weakness, one Ford didn't realize he had and almost lost. He has to keep Stan safe from the horrors of the night, even if it means putting up with Stan telling him and everyone else they're crazy and need to seek help.

Except Stan is still very much a hungry vampire that had his hunt interrupted, and he's not about to let Ford boss him around.

So Stan's sneaking out constantly to bite muggars, while Fords cursing missing The Beast again, and upset Stan keeps putting himself in danger. Keeps running into him out and about, just a few blocks away from drained vampire corpses. Totally oblivious to the danger he could have been in! Stan's annoyed Fords helicoptering, but also happy to be able to talk with him and the fact he's getting free food and housing here.

The comedy of errors keeps happening, with a background horror of 'what is Stan up to in the dead of night?' because obviously he's not a vampire! He's out in the sun! He's eating food! None of the vampire deterrents work against him, so he can't be one!

I imagine it'd last for a few months, until someone finally realized the Beast was following their trail, not the other way around, and Ford puts everyone on lock down. Its hunting them back! They need to prepare for an attack! It could be watching them at any moment.

Except Stan is already there, and he's getting hungrier and hungrier.

Then the horror movie happens. Stan's been hiding in his room, not feeling well and just so, so thirsty and hot. Ford's trying to help him, but he needs to focus on the threat. Someone comes to bring Stan a bowl of soup, then gets jump scared by a starving Venus Vampire Trap, who's not locked up and can therefore hunt as he pleases. Grabs the tiny furnace with the bowl, sniffs at them, then chucks them away. Way too hot, he's looking for something colder. Tears through the base, ignoring all the anti vampire stuff and sniffing at everyone, fangs bared, face full of blue lines, classic vampire blood rage. A very calm, not very bloody one?

Until Stan disappears into the daylight, vanishing before anyone can tackle him and hissing slightly at the sun.

Ford scours the city, horrified about the vampire they'd been harboring. How long? When? What? Why didn't Stan bite anyone, even though he was obviously starving?

Tracks him down in a vampire nest a day later, one thats full of corpses. Stan's been slurping up all the different vamps at his leisure, kinda full but not passing up all the free food. What vampires Stan's left half drained were paralyzed, letting Stan get back to them when he got hungry again. So Ford walks in to his brother in a pile of corpses, teeth in a vampire neck and doing that slow drinking thing you do when you're kinda full but don't want to let your meal go to waste. The vampire in his mouth still very much alive, and Ford is just watching it all happen, very :0 face at all the blood everywhere.

Then Stan sees him and perks up. Lets go of the vamp he was eating and goes 'oh hey bro, whats up' then clamps down again, eyes still gold but the red gone, slurping the vampire in his trash bag pile. Good thing he doesn't care about the environment, he's made a bit of a mess, is so hard in denial he's not even looking at anything but Ford, can't look at it because then he has to Acknowledge that he knows somethings up with him.

He's just sick. He's been sick. Nothing else happened, because it can't have happened.

Vampires aren't real.

Too bad Fords here to pop that bubble and all the corpses are stacked around Stan and hes currently eating a vampire. Cue angsty yelling match as Ford is pointing at all the evidence around him, and how stupid did think Stan think he was? He's clearly a vampire! Has been one the whole time! Was this all some kind of ploy, and if so whats the point!

Is not prepared for Stan's vehement denial and then breakdown about being a vampire. Stan can't be dead! Because if he died then he never made it! He died and is dead and his whole life was one wasted thing after another and he was killed and shoved in a box! He should have died a year ago behind some bar in a no name town in Wyoming! Fuck Wyoming Ford! Things have been trying to eat him! So many things, all the time! He could have snuffed it a thousand times over, and no one would have noticed! He hasn't done anything with his life and now he's not alive because Vampires Are Real and He's a vampire because some creep in a top hat was mad he wasn't his brother! Its always about Ford! Stan couldn't even die for anything he caused!

And Stan is covered in blood the whole time, gripping his current meal like a teddy bear while it snarls in his arms, paralysis the only thing keeping it from going on a rampage. Stan clamps back on, trying to eat his feelings away but with his eyes closed so he can't see what he's doing. Doesn't want to See anything, just eat something yummy and pretend its ice cream.

Then Ford has to climb over the body pile and awkwardly try to hug Stan while also avoiding the other vampire and grimacing at all the cold corpse blood.

Anyway, thats what would have happened :)

[nomie-11]

Grey

masterlist!

synopsis: you love letting vi play with your hair, but all semblance of happiness is shattered when she finds a grey hair

pairings: vi x reader

Softly sighing, you tightened your arms around her waist, your head resting gently against her chest. Each breath she took, each beat of her heart echoed in your mind, lulling your thoughts and calming your mind as you let her body heat penetrate through the thin pajamas you both adorned. You loved laying like this—laying on top of her, her hands gently threading through your hair, the only sound in the room the soft breaths from her lips. 

Her fingertips grazed your scalp, slow and soothing, as if she knew exactly how to untangle the stress woven into your thoughts. You felt her shift slightly beneath you, her lips brushing against your temple in a lazy, half-asleep gesture of affection. 

“You’ve got something here,” she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep. Her fingers paused at the crown of your head, twirling a strand of hair. “Huh.” 

“What?” you asked, not moving from your spot, your voice muffled against your chest. You didn’t think much of it. It was probably just another excuse for her to tease you—she loved finding little quirks about you to point out. 

“It’s grey.” 

You froze. 

“Grey?” you repeated, lifting your head to meet her gaze. 

“Mm-hmm.” her lips twitched into a lopsided grin as she held the strand out for you to see. “Right here. Just one, though. I think it’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you shot up, your heart racing as you scrambled off her lap and into a seated position. You tugged your hair forward, trying to catch a glimpse of this so-called intruder in the strands framing your face. “I have a grey hair!?”

“Relax, babe,” Vi’s chuckle followed you as she leaned back on her elbows, thoroughly amused. “You’re overreacting. It’s one hair. We just fought a war, it’s probably from stress or something.” 

“Or something?” Your voice hit an octave you didn’t even know you could reach. “Vi, this is how it starts! One day, it’s one little grey hair, and the next—” You gesture wildly, as though the mere idea of aging was too horrifying to put into words. “I’m old!” 

“Old?” Vi snorted, sitting up on her elbows. She reached for you, but you swatted her hands away as you stood, pacing the room. “Sweetheart, you’re not even thirty. You’re fine.”

“Easy for you to say!” You exclaimed, pointing at her. “You’re Vi. You’re going to be gorgeous forever. You’re the same person who looks perfect even when you’ve just woken up!”

Vi arched a brow, her grin widening as she leaned back again, clearly enjoying the show. “Keep going. I like where this is headed.” 

You groaned, grabbing a pillow from the bed and chucking it at her. She caught it easily, her laugh filling the room. “Don’t laugh at me! This is serious! I’m—” You paused, clutching your chest dramatically. “I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

That did it. Vi couldn’t hold back, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “Oh, babe,” she said between giggles, “you’re really something else.” 

“This isn’t funny,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and flopping back onto the bed beside her. You stared at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. “I’m too you for grey hair. What does it mean? Am I stressed more than usual? Is it genetics? Is it—”

“It’s life,” she interrupted, her voice softer now as she rolled onto her side to face you. “It’s hair. It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” 

Her hand found yours, her fingers threading through yours gently. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her tone earnest. “Grey hairs, stress, wrinkles—none of it changes that. If anything, it just means we’ve been through some stuff, you know?” 

You turned your head to look at her, her blue eyes bright with sincerity. “You really mean that?” 

“Of course I do.” She leaned in, pulling you back onto her, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re stuck with me, gray hairs and all.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re such a sap.” 

“And you love it,” she teased, grinning as she reached up to brush your hair behind your ear, her fingers threading back into your hair once more. “Now, let me see if I can find any more.” 

You groaned, burying your face in her shoulder as she laughed, the sound wrapping around you like a blanket. Crisis averted—at least for now. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[jaysgirlx]

living with choso might have just been the best mistake of your entire life. the intended plan was for you to finally get your own place but when you get there the place is in shambles. you got your deposit back when you threatened to get the police involved because the place looked nothing like its pictures.

choso had offered you his spare bedroom time and time again but you couldn't. choso was already such a good friend to you and you just didn't want to impose this on him. but of course, you're not even given a choice to ask him because the moment choso finds out how messed up your new apartment is he's already taken your stuff back to his place.

you're two months in and you realize choso and you had fallen into a pattern. a pattern that you hope won't everbreak. you wake up and choso's already made breakfast for the both of you. he says he's used to it from when he and his brothers used to live together, even though he only makes enough for two.

when you both arrive home from work, you either go out for food or order in and then of course you guys watch movies. "what do you mean you've never seen toy story?!"

"i didn't have much of a childhood, so i haven't seen a lot of movies" he mumbled quiety. for the rest of the night, the two of you had a toy story marathon with tons of snacks (provided by choso of course).

choso knew you loved to snack, so he learned to find your favorites in bulk. anytime you saw you snack on something when you hung out, he would memorize its name so he could buy more. he wanted to make his apartment as comfortable as he could for you. his place was meant to be yours.

sometimes the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together, all cuddled up together. however, it didn't start out like that, at first you would lean on choso's shoulder hoping he wouldn't mind. and eventually, he got annoyed with you just leaning on him and pulled you into his arms. you wanted to protest but you enjoyed it so much that you instead leaned into his body. whenever he'd feel you get comfortable in his arms or his lap he'd whisper "good girl" in your ear. coming from him those words drove you crazy and you wished you could hear them more.

on some nights, after you've both had a long day at work choso tends to carry you back to your room when you fall asleep. he even kisses your forehead and you've caught him doing it and you wish you had the guts to confront him on it so bad but you're happy here. so why risk it?

when choso works late you bring dinner to him and the two of you eat in his office. he always tells you, that you don't have to. that he can bring you dinner instead but when you warn him that you'll nice out he easily shuts up. you guys don't get to watch movies but you do get to talk.

"how's yuji?" you ask him after setting his food on his desk.

"enjoying college life apparently, nobara said they're going to a frat party tonight," he says while chucking.

"do you miss him?"

"why would i miss him when i have you?"

in your mind, there was no way he could've possibly meant that romantically. even after he changed the topic you were still thinking about it, thinking about what he meant and what could be going on in that head of his.

during the weekends, choso spends all his time with you. if you want to go shopping, he pays for everything, buys you lunch, and carries all your bags. he tells you it's in exchange for all the dinners you've bought him even though he's already paid you back for those. and when you get home he helps you try them all and all he can do is compliment you, like you're all his, "these jeans look so fucking good on you, can you only wear them in the apartment? just for me pretty girl?"

and you'd agree to his pleas cause, let's be real you only bought these jeans cause he keep eyeing you in them. and they way he cursed, you knew he wanted you because you felt the exact see way.

maybe living with choso a little longer wouldn't be such a bad idea.

❥ a/n: a little drabble to make up for not posting the college au choso fic yet.

[rcmclachlan]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @beanarie!

Here's a snippet of something I started writing yesterday. It hit me out of nowhere, and once I came out of the fugue state, I discovered I'd written 4,000 words.

The premise: Buck is in the middle of making room for his stuff in Tommy's closet when he finds an old phone hidden in a shoebox. Unexpectedly, it starts ringing.

+

"Sorry, but I don't negotiate with terrorists," Tommy says, then chucks the hornworm into the bucket by his feet. It lands inside with a muted thunk. There must be a bunch more of the little bastards in there.

"USA! USA!" Buck chants, pumping a fist into the air as he gets closer.

Cracking up, Tommy dashes the back of his gloved hand across his forehead. All it does is smear dirt and make him look rugged and disgustingly sexy. Buck wants to lick every drop of sweat from his body. 

"Done already? Please tell me I got to keep at least three hangers."

"Is there a henley shortage coming that the rest of us aren't ready for? Jesus." Buck holds up the Nike box and says. "I, uh, found this. Or it found me? It started ringing out of nowhere and scared the living shit out of me."

The moment Tommy claps eyes on it, something fascinating happens. Every muscle in his body visibly tenses, like a wave that starts at his jaw and washes its way down, leaving quiet devastation in its wake. In a single almost fluid motion, he straightens up from his lean and folds his hands at the small of his back. Shoulders back, chin up, feet apart. Parade rest. 

Buck's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Tommy?"

"It started ringing." It's not a question or even an accusation. Tommy says it like a simple statement of fact, his voice is flat as a board, the edges sharp enough to draw blood. "It just... started ringing."

"I, uh, yeah?" Buck holds out the box to him, jostling the phone inside, but Tommy doesn't move to take it. 

In fact, Tommy does nothing. Tommy says nothing. Buck has to squint to confirm that he's even breathing. 

After the most terrifyingly silent thirty seconds of Buck's life, Tommy shifts his gaze from Buck to, oddly enough, the sky.

"Did you answer it?"

"No, of course not!" Just because they're on rock solid ground now doesn't mean there aren't still fault lines beneath the surface. He at least thought he knew most of them. "I-I wouldn't, I swear. I just let it ring."

Tommy's nostrils flare. If his lips were any thinner, they'd probably disappear. 

"Um, I'm sorry. I know you said I could have free rein, but I didn't mean..." He has no idea how to end that sentence. He didn't mean to do what? Dig up something that Tommy obviously tried to bury? Make room for himself in Tommy's closet? Make room for himself in Tommy's life in the first place? 

A moment passes, and then the statue that was once his boyfriend shivers back to life. Tommy closes his eyes, exhales, and steps forward to take the box from Buck's trembling hands, tucking it under his arm. He wraps the other around Buck's waist and draws him close for a kiss. Buck pushes into it gratefully.

"Sorry," Tommy says against his mouth, then pecks it again before drawing back. "Sorry, I'm being an asshole. Get that look off your face, you did nothing wrong, okay? I was just... surprised to see it. I forgot it was even in there."

"What is it?" Buck mentally slaps himself. "I mean, I know it's a phone, but who was on the other end of it?"

Tommy doesn't answer right away. Instead he looks up at the sky again for a long moment, a strange smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. When he looks back at Buck, his pupils have shrunken to pinpricks. "Think of it like, uh, an old war injury acting up. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Is it something for you to worry about?"

No pressure tags: @dadvans, @liminalmemories21, @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, and @leashybebes

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Could you do a one-shot where alastor is super nervous when meeting reader, not really on his face but more his body language where when she shakes his hand he continues shaking it or doesn't let go immediately. nervous smile too lol, thanks love your stuff!!

Heeey I wrote it hope you don't mind some interpretation on my part! You didn't mention why Alastor was nervous so I just did whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tags: Oblivious Alastor, Cartoonist Writer, Humor, awkward affection, Alastor is either oblivious or in-denial, Nifty is Nifty and you should all love her

-----------------------

Alastor’s introduction to you was not a willing one. Charlie had started a bit of a bookclub at the Hotel as some odd attempt at bonding. Alastor wanted no part of it, but after the 532nd time Charlie asked him he said something particularly scathing and the princess was cruel and told Vaggie, and the ex-exorcist would NOT stop stabbing his door until he finally relented.

Of course, his choice of book was one called ‘Blank’. It was a notebook with nothing written in it. Very easy to discuss at a bookclub.

Charlotte was not impressed and Vagatha once again starting throwing vague threats in his direction. How tempted he was to just kill both of them, but alas this hotel has been the greatest form of entertainment he’s had in years (is what he tells himself.)

Darling Nifty came to his rescue, offering up a variety of different light-reading to be discussed in the future. Most of which were….not to his taste. Nifty’s interests highlighted most definitely, but Alastor quickly chucked the books out the window when the story turned to ….that.

As the number of books dwindled, he was just about prepared to give up on this stack entirely and fetch something meaningless to pretend to read (who’d check, anyway?).

He picked up one, a flimsy comic-book like thing and rolled his eyes once before giving it a go. The story wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The plot was just two bunnies going to get some ice cream. But the wordplay, the exaggeration of all the smallest obstacles, how self-aware and absurd it was gave him a good laugh. The Radio Demon’s first introduction to your work.

Although the bookclub idea ended up going nowhere, Alastor found himself seeking out more of your works. Another about a man just making a taco, one about a woman folding her laundry. So many little, day-to-day situations amplified to a ridiculous amount. Clever one-liners and humorous puns sprinkled throughout kept it intelligent enough for him to maintain interest despite the absurdity of it all.

Eventually he got a cartoon you drew that seemed just the same as the rest. Some random cute cartoon raccoon drawing some random little cartoon things. There was a scene in it though that stuck to Alastor’s mind (and dare he say, heart) like glue.

In it, the raccoon was confronted by a shark. “Why do you bother making these?” the shark sneered “No one reads these but you, no one looks at them but you, there’s no point.”

“Why does there need to be a point?” The raccoon said. Alastor’s ears straightened up on their own accord as he read “Even if no one sees it, it’s something I made and it’s some I enjoyed making.”

“Even if you put it out there, no one will care about it.”

“Someone will. They might not say anything but there’ll always be at least one.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound? No one gives a crap about your ‘passions’!”

“I do.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound-“

And then the raccoon pressed a button and an anvil fell onto the shark, comedically turning it into a pancake. “Your argument doesn’t have any depth.” The raccoon said. The story moved on from there.

It struck a bit of a chord with Alastor, he could admit that much to himself. And the raccoon’s way of dealing it was something he’d keep in mind for his next encounter with an annoyance. He didn’t put much stock in it, as storytellers and their stories don’t always agree on all things.

Your comics were a little joyful distraction when he needed them, that was all. Nothing deep and profound.

“BOSS!”

Alastor slammed shut the book he was reading, his grin never faltering though his twitching ears indicated a slight nervousness. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Nifty! Did you need something?”

Nifty scamped up his chair and onto his lap, settling down andstaring up at him with her one big eye. “BOSS BOSS BOSS BOSS I MET THE DEMONESS WHO DRAWS THOSE CARTOONS YOU LIKE”

Alastor’s eye twitched “Oh? Well, that’s neat.”

She stood up, squishing his face between her hands and stared more as her grin grew wider and more manic “Did you want to meet her?”

Yes

“Now, now, Nifty.” Alastor said as he removed her hands from his face “There’s better ways to waste one’s time.”

Nifty tilted her head, staring at him as though it would allow her to see into his mind. Her expression shifted into….One he hadn’t seen on Nifty, admittedly. The best way he could describe it was ‘smug’. But what would she have to be smug about?”

“If you say so, Boss!” She chirped, hopping off his lap and trotting off “But yeah I was at the Evermore Book-Store and she was there working ‘cause I guess that’s what she does for a livng….” Nifty’s voice faded away as the little maid walked off, not caring her rambling were being said to no one.

After Alastor had finished his errands for the day, he happened by that very store…for…Reasons. Upon entering it, he realized he had no idea who- what- he was looking for. The store itself wasn’t large. A couple patrons, one large hulking demon with tiny spectacles at the desk and a much smaller one organizing shelves.

One of the workers, then?

Not that he cared.

“Pardon me!” Alastor chirped to the desk demon. Their big eyes seemed to move in slow motion to him, a low grunt accompanying the acknowledgement. “I’m looking for someone, yes? The author of some silly comics?”

The demon slowly narrowed their eyes, lips curling up into a snarl as a growl emanated from them.

“Ah, so she is here?”

The demon planted their very large hands on the desk, pushing themselves up to stand at their full height. They were taller than Alastor by a good three feet, and much more muscular as well. Their nostrils flared, blowing hot air into his face.

Alastor wasn’t the slightest bit phased. (He found it funny, actually). “So may I speak to her?”

The large demon opened up their gaping jaw-

“That’s me, hi! How can I help you?” The shelf-stacking demon interrupted, getting between Alastor and the clerk demon. A nervous little lady with a wobbly unsure smile and bags under her eyes that looked like they could carry the entirety of Hell in them.

Alastor held up one of your comics- a book that has been very obviously well-read “You’re the creator of these splendid little things?”

“Splendid…?” You repeated him, trailing off into an amused snort “Er. Yeah, I wrote and drew those.” The Clerk behind you closed their mouth, setting back down on their chair and adjusting their spectacles. The glare didn’t leave Alastor.

“Well, my dear, I find I quite enjoy them! It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” Alastor said, not paying the larger (glowering) demon any mind. He found himself wondering why you were so tired and so timid. A woman like you should be so much more cheerful! Alastor was a tad offended….Because you weren’t smiling like he did. That’s it. Really.

“Well. I’m glad you like them.” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You offered your hand for him to shake.

One of his ears twitched. You must be fairly new to Hell, to offer a handshake so easily. Or perhaps a bit sheltered or on the naïve side. Alastor briefly considered making a sly deal to take your soul, but… Well, there was no need for that.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his own, but it felt as though it warmed his entire body. This was strange. Perhaps you were casting some spells on him? Why was he finding it so hard to focus- why did he feel like he didn’t know what to say next- why-

The Clerk gripped Alastor’s arm in between two fingers, gently but assertively pulling it away from you. You took half a step back, cradling your arm to your chest as if he burned you. Alastor glared up at the Clerk “Is there a problem?”

The large demon growled. You intervened again “Er….You were just. Holding my hand for a while. It was……kind of weird.”

“Ah.” Alastor cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flourish “My apologies! Mind was elsewhere, you know how it is with us creative types.”

You blinked. Then your timid smile turned a bit more confident. A bit more…like a smirk. “Er. Yeah, I guess so. Well. See you around, I guess?”

“If I have the time, I suppose!” Alastor grinned “Well then, I must be off! Ta-ta!”

You watched as the strange demon disappeared into shadows and slivered off. As soon as all trace of him was gone, you laughed quietly into your hand “Well, I can certainly say for certain I know someone ‘awkward as hell’ now.”

Your friend groaned, gently pushing you over as they continued their own work.

[lyretheinstrument]

starscream and Megatron !!this is a little scene redraw(?) for my continuity :3

LOREEE DUMPPP:

Starscream is the youngest out of the decepticon’s main cast. He idolized Megatron when he was first starting out at the lower ranks. Starscream was raised in an environment that encouraged backstabbing, lying, and deception to climb the ranks, so he did what he had to do to survive. The only one who Starscream kept any semblance of loyalty to was Lord Megatron. Although, because he was so young and not the most honorable- he gained a bit of a bad reputation among his comrades.

Eventually he got the position of second in command. Starscream was ecstatic. He finally got what he wanted after so long, and now he practically works side by side with his idol. One of the decepticon scientists, Skyfire, took starscream under his wing to show him the ropes. Skyfire was the first bot to show Starscream any kind of empathy. Skyfire was there to shield Starscream from most of the blame when he made mistakes, and he helped him out with a bunch of other stuff. He was really the first one to ever give Starscream that kind of attention and support. He helped Starscream get good at his new job. The two become close friends, having a kind of mentor-mentee relationship.

That was until Skyfire was outed as an autobot spy and executed. Ever since that, starscream was way more closed off and spiteful towards others. He tried to only focus on the decepticon cause since then, but even that was getting difficult the more Megatron started to mistreat him. He didn’t really have Skyfire to share blame with when he messed up, all of Starscreams mistakes were on full display now. Megatrons patience was running thin, and on the occasion he had to remind Starscream of his place. (He messed up enough to piss of Megatron but not to the point of getting fired)

Starscream finally got fed up. he began to secretly concoct his master plan to overthrow Megatron. He was tired of getting chucked around like a rag doll, he had no idea why Megatron even kept him on the team at this point. His scheme took FOREVER to plan. When it was finally done, he put it into motion.

It would have been epic. It would have been spectacular. It would have been the most devilish and well planned takeover the history books had ever seen. Well- that’s what Starscream says. When he tried to execute his plan, everything was going perfect, everything was in motion, it was going to work- but he underestimated just how truly powerful Lord Megatron was. He thought he was so close. When Megatron understood what was going on he gave Starscream the pummeling of a lifetime. Some say it was a miracle Starscream even survived. It was brutal. It took days for Starscream to fully recover from a beating like that.

So you could imagine EVERYONES surprise when Starscream got to keep his job. When questioned about it Megatron would just glare. That was enough to shut anyone up.

Ever since that, Starscream would still try to betray Megatron. Just on a smaller scale. Some attempts at his life here, some rude comments behind his back there. Everytime he got caught Starscream would get his due.

I’ll try to post more lore about the characters and story soon ^_^

SOME DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF THE DRAWING UNDER CUT!!

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Spilling the (truth) tea.

Reader gets truth serum spilt on them and accidentally confesses her true feelings.

Ochaco found you wondering the halls babbling to yourself after initially leaving the UA dorms to find Hatsume. You wanted to upgrade your hero costume one last time before graduation, but, Hatsume being Hatsume, she accidentally spilled a mysterious liquid on you whilst she was trudging through her 'babies' to find you the last piece of armour she'd put away.

You were talking to yourself, completely dazed and walking around in circles, the conversation you were having with yourself suddenly became a bit heated and you started shouting at the wall. Ochaco ran over and placed her hand on your shoulder, causing your eyes to fixate on her, and then open your mouth.

"Ochaco Uraraka, the sweetest little bundle of joy, if I were gay she'd be the one I would marry. Her smile lights up the room and every single time anyone is upset, they fly to her like a magnet. Purest heart, will make an excellent support hero. 9/10 best friend, would definitely make love to."

Her eyes widened at your confession, she had no idea why you suddenly just started complimenting her, but by the glossy look in your eyes she knew something was wrong.

"Oh, um, thanks y/n! But er, everything okay? Did Hatsume do something to you or...."

And as if on que, Hatsume poked her head out of the doorway, laughing and cleaning her steampunk glasses.

"Yeah so, kinda got a bit crazy in there. Spilled some of my truth serum stuff on her and now...well yeah, she won't stop confessing her true feelings for people she looks at. It'll wear off in a couple of hours but...."

"Mei Hatsume, annoying but pure. If she learnt to shut up for a single second and take a breath, she might make a really good best friend. Easily surpasses everyone else on the other courses, and if she toned down a bit she'd easily reach top ranks in the hero rankings, especially the public opinion rankings. 7/10. Would bang"

Both of the girls looked at eachother stunned, Hatsume let out a disgustingly loud laugh, throwing her head back and smiled at Ochaco.

"Yeah, id get her back to her dorm if I were you. Here, take this too! Yano, just in case she bumps into all might or aizawa and accidentally confesses her undying love for them or something...." She chucked a blindfold to Ochaco, laughing as she disappeared back into the room.

On the walk back to the dorms, you were silent. Ochaco tried to make small conversation with you, tried to ask questions about what happened, if that's how you actually really felt about her and if you needed her to do anything for you. You didn't reply, your mouth tightly closed as she lead you to the entrance of the UA dorms building.

When you both entered, you accidently bumped into Kirishima, who was walking past with his head buried in a comic. Bumping into him caused your blindfold to slip slightly, catching a glimpse of the cute shark boy.

"Eijiro Kirishima, the physical embodiment of happiness. Whenever I get cornered my mind instantly searches for him to protect me. Impeccable quirk, and even more impressive social skills. 8/10 perfect husband material. Would definitely make love to."

His eyes widened as he dropped his comic, mouth slack at your completely outlandish confession. His eyes flicked to Ochaco who frantically scrambled to grab your blindfold, forcing it back onto your eyes causing you to close your mouth tightly again and grab onto her arm for stability.

"Um, what? Wha, what was all that? Why did y/n say she'd ma..make love to me? Im so confused."

Ochaco explained what had happened, and explained that after a few hours it would wear off so she was taking you back to your dorm so you couldn't embarrass yourself further. Just as she was explaining the affects of the serum to Kiri, katsuki flicked his eyes from over his phone to you three. He jumped up, stomping over to Kiri and ochaco, smirk snuggly slapped across his face.

"My turn. I wanna know what this extra really thinks about me." Before they could protest, he ripped the blindfold off your eyes, face merely an inch away from yours.

"Katsuki Bakugo, hot but an asshole, if he shut up and learned to take a compliment he'd be the perfect boyfriend for anyone. Terrifyingly impressive quirk, he knows he's the best and he rightfully should. Would make the world's most devastating villain. 8/10, would let fuck the shit out of me. More than once." 

His smirk grew wider as his eyes darkened, clearly more than impressed with your statement. He threw his head back and laughed, pride filling his body as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Dirty bitch. I knew she had the hots for me. Glad she can see why I'm the best though, all you other extras just need to catch up. "

Suddenly, the common room started to fill with curious heads, cautiously trying to figure out why katsuki was even more loud than usual. After hearing your confession about him, more and more of your classmates let their curiosity take over them as they crowded around you.

"Everyone's getting the harsh truth today, wether they like it or not. WHOS NEXT?!"

Everyone scrambled into a line, desperate for some form of validation from your confessions about them, only to find that deku was forced to the front of the queue.

"Izuku Midoriya, ...there's too much. A cry baby, bitch boy, best friend potential, probably an impeccable lover. Kind. Honest. All mights secret love child probably? Fearless, sweet, loyal. He's like if a baby rabbit got hit with the world's strongest quirk, kicked your ass then sweetly hopped away afterwards like nothing happened. 9/10, he'd be too terrified to touch you, but if he did then he'd make the sweetest soul tie whilst inside of you."

His eyes watered, confusion and adoration filling his face, he wanted to reply, wanted to thank you but quickly got shoved aside by denki.

"MY TURN MY TURN! Let's see what this crazy spark plug thinks about me and how cool and chill I am."

Ochaco tried to reach over and cover your eyes but it was too late.

"Denki kaminari, truly believe he's my soul mate. Sweetest, kindest person I've ever met and definitely doesn't deserve to be the butt of every joke. I want to fuck the shit out of him, suffocate him with my thighs because you just know he eats it like an olympic sport. Want him to break me in every single way possible, electrocuting me until I can't feel my legs then keep destroying me further. Almost as perverted as I am. Think about him every single night as I touch myself. 11/10, want to be his girlfriend, wife, soul mate...."

Suddenly the room was filled with stunned silence, as aizawa kicked the front door shut behind himself, forcing everyone, including yourself, to look right at him.

"Shōta Aizawa, should be the number one hero because of his impressive skills and insatiable combat knowledge. See him as a father. Kind, considerate, thinks his standoffish initial approach keeps him distanced from everyone, but only makes everyone want to discover why he is this way. Perfect husband and father material. 10/10 wish he would adopt me."

His eyes remained half-lidded as he stared at you, turning his quirk on to see if it would help you. It didn't. He rolled his eyes and looked at ochaco who was clinging to your arm.

"Take her to her dorm, I think she's had more than enough of embarrassing herself for one day. " The rest of the class whined in protest as they hadn't had their chance at getting your brutally honest option of them, only for him to snap his eyes and widen them at everyone. They all closed their mouths and looked down, apologising.

Ochaco helped walk you to your dorm, got you into bed and sat on the edge as she played with your hair, helping you drift off to sleep.

"Well, I guess that's one way to tell denki you like him. I don't think you'll ever be living it down though, sorry y/n. I'll tell aizawa everything once you're settled, don't worry." Her laugh echoed through your room, quiet but understanding. She was right, you never lived it down, but it did mean that Denki knew you fancied him, and did mean that you had a letter pushed through the bottom of your door later that night.

'meet me in the kitchen at 2am. Let's see how sturdy that kitchen counter really is ;) D x'

[tlouwhore]

modern!ellie headcanons

notes/warnings: pet names used (baby), sfw, loser!ellie a little (i cant help it), no race specific information, androgynous reader

★ she has an insane mug collection thats so strange, when you go to hers for the first time its such a weird thing

"you want something to drink?"

"sure"

and you'll go back to messing with her stuff that she left sprawled across her coffee table until you hear her clomp over and extend her arm, she'll be holding an inconveniently built mug out to you casually

"els, what the fuck is that?"

she tilts her head and furrows her brow, confused at your comment as if its unreasonable to ask why shes handing you a horrifically constructed alien mug thats bound to spill all over you

★ speaking of these mugs, she refuses to get rid of *any* of them. when you guys move in together you're begging her to just get rid of one but she refuses

"els, please. we dont have enough shelves for these, we need normal drinking glasses."

you sigh as the mugs sit across the kitchen counter, shes on one side staring at them while youre on the other side staring at her.

"i cant, i use them all"

she doesn't. she drinks out of one and she only ever drinks water from it. you go back and forth for merely minutes before you throw in the towel and just let her do her thing, if shes happy you dgaf about the normal water glasses.

★ shes a loud ass walker, you will hear her before you see her. you genuinely start to think she's doing it on purpose.

★ she has one belt and its one wrong move from completing snapping in two pieces, there is a literal half inch of material holding it together

★ needs to pet street cats every time she sees them, whenever you point out that they're probably diseased she scoffs

★ tries to pretend shes good at fixing things but has no clue what shes doing—the toilet isnt flushing properly and so she stands about 3 feet from it and stares at it with her weight shifted to one side. she'll have on a tank top on and slacked down carhartt pants engulfing her legs as she nods. she really likes to take care of you so she'll refuse to admit she has no idea what shes doing and when you walk away she looks up "toilet not flushing reddit"

★ she fucks with the twilight franchise but pretends to hate it because it doesn't "look cool"

★ she cant drive, she failed her permit test 3 times and pretends like every other driver on the road is the problem (shes the issue every time)

★ she drives a beat up car or truck, it smells a little funny and the radio gets three stations so you have to rummage through her mass cd collection to find something to listen to. half the cds wont even be in their case but instead haphazardly chucked around her car in random spots. the only ones she keeps in order are your cds, which have a specific bag so you don't have to scurry about in her car to find them.

★ 3 pairs of socks and they all have holes in them, she'll complain that the floor is cold all the time

"god the floor is so cold in here"

"can you just put some socks on?"

"i'm wearing socks right now"

"oh really?"

and she'll point as her feet, half her toes are out and her heel is fully exposed. its about the same as just wearing no socks at some point. you'll just stare in disbelief for a moment before scoffing.

"what'd you do that for?"

that small crease between her brows finding its way to her face as it always does.

"you're barely wearing socks"

"oh whatever"

★ has to physically restrain herself from telling you the gift she bought you for any holiday or event, shes tweaking out and cant function until she gives it to you

★ she loves to just be in your presence, she'll observe your routines. she enjoys perching next to you as you get ready, no matter how short or long or a routine she will be by your side

★ she can cook a crazy burger but that's literally all she can make

★ shes a blushing mess for you but she loves to get cocky and pretend she isn't when texting you

★ needy and will message you thirst trap ass photos in an attempt to get you to leave work early and be with her (it works)