#he has to spend a month dissociating and keeping himself busy every waking hour not to break the fuck down over what he did to ethan

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

year six of being salty that around halfway through RoS the writers went 'shit we accidentally wrote five way too sympathetic and reasonable, and he is rapidly going through a redemption arc. quick shove in random serial killer shit out of nowhere without explanation, which completely contradicts his character and its development up til then. wait fuck he's redemption arcing EVEN HARDER in FoT. shit shit shit okay just make him hannibal lecter'

[cupidcreates]

Hi, I hope the last day of 2020 will be a success for you. I have a request for yandere Dabi and / or Chisaki when they hear that their dear, affectionate s/o call them "love" or "happiness of my life"

Affectionate Names

With Yanderes Dabi and Overhaul

(Oh my fucking GOD beech I’m SO SORRY this took LITERAL MONTHS to post. I promise I’m never gonna let an ask sit for that long again holy crap. I really hope this was worth the wait bestie, I tried really hard to make it cute for you nonny. Hope you like it!)

Touya Todoroki - Dabi

Disgust, Anger, Hatred, Fear, Dabi’s used to these emotions playing across the faces of the people he interacts with. He knows how he appears to others, how his very visage causes visceral reactions of discomfort in others. He’s fine with that, in fact he revels in it.

If it’s not the abject loathing of a stranger than it’s the cool detachment of his allies. Dabi finds a sort of warmth, even an odd sense of comfort in their gazes. It’s distant, reserved, and to the point; Dabi never has to question what his allies want from him or what their intentions are.

The indifference many find cold is rather temperate to Dabi. 

The fair weather is what he likes. Nothing too cold, nothing too hot, nothing can be resurrected from mild memories.

Dabi was content with this treatment.

Until he met you.

It had been a long time since anything stoked the kind of fire in his chest like you did. Heat typically coincided with anger, but you didn’t make him angry.

That’s not to say he didn’t mistake it for anger at first. He definitely wanted you dead, seemingly at random, for a few days after seeing you pass by him on the street.

But after a while of reflection he realized you didn’t ignite his hate the way thoughts of his family, his father, or society did.

No, this was a completely different feeling, something brand new.

Something to be explored, immediately.

There was something about you he needed, something you had that he had to get for himself.

And Dabi’s not one to not get his way.

He set out to have you, and have you he did. It took longer than he might have liked (though, anything but immediate compliance is too long for Dabi) and you put up a better fight than he would have expected but he did eventually get you swept away from your previous life.

In his mind he won you over.

In your mind, and in reality, he stole you away from your home in the dead of night and trapped you in an undisclosed location until you eventually broke and developed Stockholm syndrome.

After all, he wasn’t mean to you. He kept you fed and watered, the basement stayed a nice mild temperature, and the rats that scuttled about were actually kind of cute when you looked at them the right way.

You were eventually happy, which is what Dabi wanted as it finally allowed him to get close to you.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you. He’d started by simply sitting by your side (once you had calmed down enough to let him do so without screaming) then he progressed to holding you (awkward as it was at first) and once he could trust that you wouldn’t run off he allowed you free roam of the hideout.

Free roam as in you were attached to his hip.

He brought you nearly everywhere, as if he was a child and you were his favorite stuffed bear. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed you around, but he figured he’d find out if he gave it enough time.

And it’s not like you were trouble, you were actually very helpful, getting him out of more than a few scrapes and sticky situations.

He eventually surmised that this, whatever you two had going on, was something like the affection he missed out on in his youth. It was nice to hold your hand, nice to sit you in his lap as he listened to Shigaraki drone on about his next plan, nice to spend a night with you on the rooftops. 

The time he spent with you didn’t strike a chord in him like his first encounter with you did, but he was content.

He could only ever be content.

He didn’t need anything stronger than baseline serenity.

Or so he thought.

He thought right up until the night he was sitting alone in his room (room being a generous term for the hovel hole in the wall he kept his nearly flattened mattress in) dissociating after a very long day.

Dabi tried not to dissociate frequently, it was best to stay aware of your surroundings when you’re a wanted criminal, but when he did allow himself to fall into this state he was typically here for hours. Nearly comatose as he fled back into his mind.

You knocking softly at the door went completely unnoticed, in fact he didn’t even realize you were there until you had entered the room and sat next to him on the mattress.

Your presence took him completely by surprise and shocked him out of his stupor. It took him a moment to recover his composure and re-mask, and in those several seconds with his guard down you saw Dabi’s face more youthful and innocent than you ever had.

You’d asked him a question, he was aware of that much, but the only thing he caught, the only thing he registered was the word at the very end of your sentence.

“Are you okay, love?”

Love

Rather forcefully Dabi was taken back to his childhood; before his quirk manifested, before his siblings were born to replace him, before his own family turned on him in favor of his youngest brother. It had been so long since someone had called him love; so long since his mother would come into his room early in the morning and brush his bangs out of his face, softly calling to him to wake him up and ready him for the day.

Having already been in a vulnerable state, the name cut through him like a knife. Shaken to his core by the memories ripped fresh in his mind he was, for the first time in his life, grateful that his tear ducts had been burned away so long ago.

He gave nothing away, his face already masked up again and his demeanor its typical cool indifference. He spoke to you as he always had, the tremble in his voice only perceptible to him.

He pushed his head into your shoulder and was silent for a while, just taking in you presence, before offhandedly telling you that he didn’t mind if you called him that again. In private of course.

Love

He thought he could get used to that.

Kai Chisaki - Overhaul

Open affection was not only not necessary in Chisaki’s life but also abjectly disgusting.

Perhaps he never really had good examples of tender kindness and open endearment as a child. Maybe he simply couldn’t comprehend affection in the way others could.

In any case, physical fondness and other such displays of the sentiment were completely foreign to Chisaki.

He didn’t mind this, he had much more pressing matters to attend to. Having a partner of any sort other than business would only slow him down.

Oh but you just had to come along, didn’t you? Had to go nosing around where you didn’t belong, a foolish venture already, and then you had to be incompetent's enough to get yourself caught waist deep in his business.

It didn’t matter, you didn’t matter, whatever you knew about what he was doing didn’t mean a damn thing. All he had to do now was keep you quiet.

For good.

He had to kill you, this much he knew. He’d have no issue doing it, after all who were you anyway? A nosy little cashier at a run-down shop on the brink of bankruptcy. You had no family, if you did they certainly didn’t care about you if the state of and neighborhood your apartment was located in was anything to go by.

You were a threat to the sanctity of his mission, a potential interference to his operation. Simply put you had to go. This was fine, nothing personal. Just business.

But oh you just had to didn’t you? Had to look at him with the most pathetically pleading eyes he’s ever seen as you begged him to let you live. You already knew what he was up to, undoubtedly you understood the torture and death he willingly inflicted upon others. You knew the pleading would do you no good, surely you knew your death was inevitable.

Except that it wasn’t, was it.

Because you had to, you had to come along with a face too sweet to be atomized. Had to, somehow, worm your way into his brain and stop him from dismantling your upper body.

Was this your quirk? Were you somehow influencing him? It had to be something of your doing, the tightness in his chest and warmth in his stomach was something of your doing.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to destroy something so precious, so pure even. He just couldn’t do it.

But no obstacle comes without workarounds, and he didn’t have an underground labyrinth of empty rooms to not be used.

So if killing you was out of the picture, his only recourse was to keep you hidden away. At least long enough for him to figure out a permanent solution for you.

Living toys are so much more fun to play with anyway.

He kept you holed up in a secret room, watched your every move as months passed. You were very interesting to him, in fact he found almost all of his (precious little) spare time consumed by you. He made sure to visit you daily, though your fear kept you mostly mute at the beginning.

Once you were sure he wasn’t going to obliterate you, he noticed you relaxed and even opened up a little bit. You even allowed him to touch you gently a few times and, to his surprise, he never broke out after his skin made contact with yours.

He figured you must have been sent to him, by some divine or cosmic intervention. You grew on him quickly and he made sure to pamper you in any way he could, moving you to a larger, more luxurious wing of the lair and making sure you had three meals a day of only the best quality food.

One morning he’d decided to visit you earlier than usual, walking down the long hallway towards your room and considering the topic of conversation today.

As he neared your room he overheard you speaking with the associate assigned to your meal delivery today. Pausing just outside the door he caught the tail end of your conversation.

“...so lonely until Chisaki visits. The room is lovely but he’s truly the only happiness of my rather dull life.”

Chisaki considered this for a moment. Perhaps it was a clever deception? Something for him to intentionally overhear and cause him to lower his guard?

Couldn’t be though, he’d never visited you this early, if you wanted to deceive him you’d have waited until your evening meal to speak these words.

A sudden, rather disconcerting warmth overtook Chisaki; Like a flower of light suddenly blooming in his chest he was overtaken by the urge to abandon everything and stay by your side until he withered away and his bones turned to dust.

Regaining his sanity he shook the thought from his head. He’d worked too hard for too long to let go of this now. No, he’d have to continue with his operation, the consequences of letting go now would be too great.

He was, however, sorry to hear that your life thus far had been dull. Had you said this months ago he would have scoffed, because of course the life of a cashier was dull; but now, after months of you having been here, it should have improved.

The only assumption left for him to make was that this must have been his doing. Fair enough on his part, as he couldn’t be sure trusting you was a wise idea.

But if this was how you truly felt about him, maybe he could consider letting you have greater roam of the property. He might even allow you time outside.

Only if you brought your happiness along, of course.

[muggleriddle]

TOM RIDDLE SR FOR THE HEADCANON MEME AWW YEAH

YASSS. Under the cut because it’s a lot of stuff!

What does their bedroom look like?

Dark, because it’s horrible to convince him to open the damn curtains. It has a bed, I guess queen sized bed? Wardrobes, nightstands and a table by the window (the window, btw, has a view of the gardens of the Riddle house). It’s usually messy, but like… It’s a mess that makes sense to him, so, please, don’t try to organize it, because then he’ll never find his stuff if you take away his piles of papers and notebooks. His table is full of notebooks of all sorts, paper, objects he’s using as reference to draw, books and photos pinned to the wall.

Do they have any daily rituals?

He always takes a long time to get up in the morning; he’ll usually wake up and spend at least half an hour in bed before getting up. When he’s not feeling too down, he does change his clothes before going down (otherwise it’s the good ol’pajamas). He likes to take daily walks around the gardens and take this time to chat with Frank Bryce, the gardener. At night, he usually checks if the doors of the house are locked at least twice. He likes to be able to practice the piano everyday too.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

He rides on his horse, around three times a week if he’s not feeling down. He used to go swimming in the sea, at Hornsea, when he was younger, but he’s stopped doing it after the Merope fiasco.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Depending on his mood, he’d either go out to eat or steal some crackers or bread just to ignore being hungry or simply go without eating until the kitchen was free for him to use.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

As stated above, his workplace and room are messy, but not dirty. Well, you have paint stains and spots everywhere but that’s because he’s a mess when painting. He’s alright with personal hygiene, bathe and shaves everyday etc etc… All of this, though, is when he’s actually feeling okay. When he’s in one of his blue moods, he’ll probably stop organizing his room, forget about changing from pajamas, forget about bathing, shaving, etc. When the depression bus hits, everything feels just too much for him.

Eating habits and sample daily menu

Tom’s eating habits are shit. He usually forgets to eat, either because he’s too focused on something else or because he’s not hungry or because the effort of getting out of bed to eat is too much. When he eats, its not much. Sometimes he has this thing of staying awake throughout the night and raiding the biscuit jar at three in the morning. (btw, when he was a kid, his mum never allowed him to eat biscuits at night and his dad had this thing for saying that ‘if you’re not at the table when we’re eating, then you won’t be eating until the next meal’ Thomas never carried this threat all the way through though). He loves tea and is not too used to drinking coffee. He’s not munch of a drinker (regarding alcoholic stuff), but he can be a happy drunk if he drinks more than idk two or three glasses of wine.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Drawing, painting, reading and playing the piano when he’s feeling productive. Just lying down on a couch/bed when he’s feeling bad. The productive waste of time is well accepted by him; the ‘I’m feeling like shit and therefore can’t move from this couch’ waste of time is something he hates.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging?

… spending a lazy day in bed? sleeping until the afternoon? stay the whole night awake (being productive) and then sleep throughout the next day?

Makeup?

He doesn’t wear it, but I believe Mary Riddle must have tried to hide his dark circles with powder or foundation when they went out, but like, just on the first few months after the Merope fiasco. As the years went by, she just got used to it.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Afraid of leaving the doors of the house unlocked, looking outside the window 198298382 times during the day just to see if there’s anyone lurking around the house, trying to listen to someone approaching his room at night, afraid of going out, nervous af when confronted with crowds of people or when alone with women.

Intellectual pursuits?

Tom is the perfect Gemini: he loves to know at least a little about everything. He loves learning, but his attention spam usually drifts to something new after he starts to dive into a subject. He does manage to study art and music (by himself and with his mother’s help) more than other subjects, though. He dreams of going to art school and working with illustration, but is too scared of trying to do so.

Favorite book genre?

Fantasy.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Demisexual.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Myopic (doesn't wear glasses bc is done with putting his fingers on the lens and having the glasses falling off his face). Depression, anxiety, PTSD. Scar on his right knee (from a bad scrap on it at 13) and on both wrists (suicide attempt at 21).

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Smallest: finish a painting or learning a new piece on the piano;

Biggest: being able to go out of the house without feeling the need to go back inside at every second when he sees someone/when he’s around other people;

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Biggest: art school

Smallest: traveling to somewhere that is not London or Great Hangleton, maybe visit Scotland;

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Pajamas are his favourite outfit. But I always see him wearing pants + shirt + a sleeveless sweater (I guess it has stuck with me from the time I used to have an askblog of his and I always drew him like that). He hates wearing ties and always keeps his sleeves rolled above his elbows.

Favorite beverage?

Non-alcoholic: tea… chamomile and valerian tea.

Alcoholic: it’s a tie between wine and vodka.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

It depends on how he’s feeling. If he’s been reading before bed, he’ll most likely think about the book he’s been reading. If he’s not feeling well, Merope Gaunt is a recurrent thought during the night (he’s afraid of dreaming about her and ends up, surprise! having a nightmare about her).

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

He was a pretty strong kid, like, he didn’t get too many colds or flus or whatever. He must have had chicken pox. Ah, he used to have quite a few earaches.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Turn on: hands, man, he really loves hands. Also, any reaction from his partner… he pays attention to the person’s breathing or how their skin has goosebumps and he loves it. His partner showing pleasure is a turn on for him. People being all passionate while playing an instrument. And pretty underwear. And if he already trusts his partner a whole lot, Tom’ll actually admit he kind of enjoys being a lil sumissive to them, some softcore BDSM is a thing he enjoys although he doesn’t really realize it.

Turn off: anything that may remind him of Merope Gaunt*

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Drawings, drawings everywhere.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

See the question about his room and his organized mess.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

He’s really good at arts and music. He used to study human anatomy for fun and because it helped him drawing the human figure, so he has a good knowledge of it. He is kind good at maths, but doesn’t like it.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

If he’s still alive, that’ll do.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

See above the art school plan. Part of him also wanted to have a family, have kids and all, but he’s too scared of doing so.

What is their biggest regret?

Accepting Merope’s invitation to have a cup of tea and abandoning Merope (he regrets it but at the same time he doesn’t? He’s scared af of what happened, but he feels guilty about it).

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

I have this two OCs I created for a fanfiction, one is a friend of his from his time at Eton, his name is Charles Campbell. They were almost like Harry and Ron at school. And the other is Charles’ wife, Ellen, who is a nurse and who he met while studying Architecture at London (he dropped off thanks to the Merope fiasco). His worst enemy is… himself? He sabotages himself a lot and his fear and anxiety fuck things up for him.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

It depends??? He can have those boosts of bravery sometimes, but it really depends on the situation??? He can either have the fight response or the freeze response.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Again, depends, it can be the fight or the freeze response. I think it’s most likely for him to dissociate and have this terrible freezing response that’ll eventually take him down the depression and anxiety lane.

Most prized possession?

His sketchbooks and a snuffbox that belonged to his grandfather (he used to have a pocket watch that his father gave him when he graduated Eton, but he sold it while under the effect of the Amortentia and doesn’t remember; he thinks he just lost it).

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

I… don’t know? He’s a little possessive with his own stuff. And he’s hoards notebooks, sketchbooks, books, old drawings etc. He has difficulty letting go of some stuff.

Concept of home and family?

Home is where he feels comfortable at and family are those he consider as so. In some fics, I write him thinking of Row as family even though they’re not married or anything. Silly information: it’s instintive of him to think of Tommy as family the first time they meet… too bad Tommy doesn’t think the same way;

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

He loves privacy. His room is his place and please knock before entering, don’t go looking into his notebooks without asking permission, don’t enter his personal bubble before he feels comfortable with it.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Sometimes, drawing. He always has this inner conflict about ‘is this really useful?’ when it comes to drawing and painting. Also, sleeping.

What makes them feel guilty?

The whole Merope Gaunt thing; not being able to be the person people expected from Mary and Thomas’ son; living with his parents at the age of 38; not achieving anything at the age of 38; etc.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Emotional.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Type B.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Sleeping, a long bath, painting, playing the piano, watching the sea, sitting in the garden or just staying in a silent place all by himself.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Inferiority-complex. His self esteem is horrible.

How misanthropic are they?

He’s… not misanthropic? Not at all.

Hobbies?

Drawing, playing the piano, reading, horse back riding, walking on the garden or on the beach.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

He graduated high school (I don’t remember the term for it in the English educational system sorry), but never finished university (he started to study architecture and dropped out).

Religion?

I think he’d be officially protestant but he couldn’t care less for it? It’s been years since he last went to a mass that was not a funeral or a wedding. I guess you can consider him an agnostic.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

He’s waY INTO IT! He has always been interested in this kind of stuff, growing up hearing folk stories about faeries and witches, but after Merope, he became really scared of it… at the same time, these stuff still fascinates him. Which is a real struggle for him.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

He says he’s terrible with words, so he tries to paint or play music to try to express himself. Depending on the person he’s with, he can be good with words, although he tends to start talking and talking and talking and forgets to stop.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Someone who makes them feel comfortable and safe. He needs to trust the person and vice versa. He needs to be able to spend time with them, be it making out, having sex or just talking about what’s the size of the dragon Smaug in The Hobbit? and other Very Serious Subjects like that.

How do they express love?

He likes to hold hands. And hug, but he needs to feel really comfortable with you in order to allow himself to touch you or be touched by you. Sometimes he’ll start to talk about you and how you’re important to him and lose himself in his words. He likes to give gifts to people, drawings done by him or a song he learned how to play because he knows you like it. If you catch him looking at you with a silly look on his face and a dumb smile, he’s sold to you. He also likes to share his interests: he’ll show you his favourite poem, his favourite book, he;ll ask you to play something with him on the piano, etc.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

He’s terrible at fighting. He’d punch the person and then realize he’s just broken his hand because god damn it he doesn’t know how to throw a punch.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Nope. He’s more afraid of living. As his favourite poet once said:

In this lifeit’s not difficult to die.To make lifeis more difficult by far.                       

*if, by any chance, he meets a nice witch or wizard that makes him feel safe and comfortable, their magic won’t scare the shit out of him… okay, at the beginning, yes, but he can learn how to understand and appreciate magic (talking about a TomRow context here)