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sd1970x · 5 years

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Someone suggested I try posting my fics to tumbler

So... here goes! Summary: Marinette is certain she finally has things mostly figured out: Whether it's having a secret life as a miraculous-holding superheroine, saving Paris together with her trusty partner or standing up to Chloe. Whether it's by herself, as a part of a pair or even a team, she knows it through and through. Then one day, Gecko appears, and nothing is ever going to be the same again. She might need to cast aside everything she thought about teamwork, relationships and what it means to be a miraculous holder. What's going to happen between her and her partner now? What's that strange new superheroine hiding behind her mask? Chapter 1: Yamori. It was just a regular workday. That’s exactly what it was. He was a normal boy with a normal life, even if other people have their kind of a normal life. His simply involved working in construction at high height. Hamad still went with that pointless, mock helmet-placing gesture. It helped him feel better for some reason, despite having no real helmet to go with it. The strapping point part, that he couldn’t even play-pretend. At least he knew one was supposed to exist, just like the railings that were meant to prevent him from falling. While these actually did exist occasionally, their reliability has left him wondering more than once. Would they stop him if a moment of truth came? He’d rather not think about that one at all. The other thing he would have rather not thought about, but couldn’t get out of his head, was that he finally knew why all of that was happening. That day when he saw the money change hands, out in the clear… and they didn’t even care he saw it!

No one would have believed him or any of his co-workers. That much felt almost like a universal truth. He was in a foul mood just thinking about it, and thus escapism drew its lure again. His favorite choice of escapism? Taking a sneak peek at the view of Paris from the 20th floor he’s working at. The clear sky and the look of the Eiffel tower brought about some comfort. He imagined the smell of a home-cooked meal on the stove, the warmth of a family that would definitely dwell here in two or three years, with someone living a perfectly happy normal life here. “Hey, get back to work!” He heard the voice of his superintendent, as the smell of soup made way in favor of the acrid smell of cement that needed mixing, of dust particles filling the air, of planks lying about and steel rebar being welded. The view was not his to enjoy, he remembered now. He quickly tucked the smell of soup into a deep corner of his heart before returning to mixing the cement again in numbing, repetitive motions, a blank look on his face. --- Light shone on Hawk Moth’s lair as its window expanded, triggering a fluttering of the numerous butterflies waiting for their turn. An almost inaudible flap, like bristling of leaves, mixed with the pacing of shoe soles against a concrete floor. He stopped and relished that negative feeling he was picking up. At first, it tasted like apathy of the bland and boring kind. But upon further inspection, a lacing of venom appeared. At first a trace, and then a mouthful. Like popping a caviar egg to salty goodness. And he, Hawk Moth, would be the one to help that spread its wings in the most spectacular fashion. A piece of art, indeed. “Those who are numb of fearing for their lives may yet hold the most emotions of all, simply waiting to be unleashed.” His voice intoned it as if an onlooker was there. Occasionally Nathalie would be there to listen to him. Not this time, though. He kept the habit nonetheless as it greatly entertained him. “Go forth, my Akuma, and help him realize his burning desire for justice.” He called his power as he infused the butterfly with dark energy and sent it off towards its target, A look of appreciation following its trail. He turned around and rubbed his hands together, anxious for the butterfly to make rapport again, small shivers of delight passing through his body in anticipation of the conversation he was about to hold. --- Hamad noted his superintendent was missing again. He always felt short-changed for his hard work, so stealing yet another glimpse of the view made him feel no remorse. He couldn’t see the Akuma butterfly casually making the slow ascent towards him, as his foot hit the smallest of bumps on the concrete floor. Losing balance, he quickly grabbed at the railing, only for the thing to crack. Looks like it couldn't hold him after all. He felt the acceleration, the rush of wind as he spun downwards, the resistance of air building up against his momentum. He dreamed this would happen one day, and that day now came. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact. But then, a firm grip caught him and he heard the ‘twang’ sound of a yo-yo string. That wasn’t a part of his dream, but from that day onward he’d embrace that and never let go. He felt his descent slowing down gently as he opened his eyes to find himself in the hands of a certain red-clad superheroine. But then, he felt another thing. A pair of greyish-blue eyes prying into his very soul. A warm male voice soothed into his mind.“ Mixalot, I am Hawk Moth. Isn’t it time someone mixed the cruel reality of construction safety with the serene reality of otherwise blissful Parisians?” He uttered a soft, barely audible “yes” before he felt a rush of power, and then nothing. --- Ladybug watched in horror as the person she was holding quickly got engulfed in black-purple mist and sent an indiscernible appendage towards her earrings, before even completing the transformation. She cocked her head to evade his grab and tried to push herself away. Her yo-yo got tangled and she barely made it, a few meters above ground, only to fall a second later. Only lightly beaten, Ladybug found herself facing an unharmed Akumatized victim at a disadvantaged reclined position. Her mind tried to assess the situation as quickly as feasible. The thing in front of her was similar to Stoneheart to an extent but made more of concrete plates and protruding steel rebar. His shoulder was composed of a steel beam and his second hand was now a jet hole spouting cement mixture. The ground shook a little with every step he took, combined with earth-shattering noise and the smell of wet cement. The iron scaffolding around her looked like that creature’s preferred home turf to pick a fight on. She felt two quick bursts of viscous cement hitting both of her arms, pinning her to the ground. Given enough time she would have been able to move her joints and recover, but this was time she simply didn’t have, as Mixalot charged for a much larger shot of cement, one aimed straight at her face. He’s going to choke me and knock me out. Ladybug braced herself for the impact as much as she could given her situation. “Ladybug, watch out!” A female voice called at her. The source of the voice suddenly appeared between her and Mixalot. Not slowly or gradually, but as if she had always been there. As if she materialized or decloaked at this exact point in space, by a feat of magic or miracle. She was rapidly rotating what looked to be some sorts of a hoop, with four spokes completing a cross form inside. Ladybug could only see her back, clad in a bright cyan bodysuit, a long and wavy honey-colored hair running up until the waist. Is she… a new superheroine? The cement shot sprayed in all directions as it encountered the rapidly spinning hoop. The smell of cement intensified considerably as she felt the touch of a few errant mixture drops collecting at her suit. “Quick, run away!” that same voice quickly returned her to the reality on ground. An Akuma battle was not a good time to properly reconcile such news. Instinctively responding to the cry she took advantage of the opening to dart to safety, and only then allowed herself a moment of composed thought. How can there be a new superheroine? Any more than that would probably take a lot more focus out of the problem at hand. Ladybug watched the cyan-clad superheroine engaging Mixalot, trying an attack by rotating her hoop angled above her head and extending it. So her hoop extends and contracts, similar to Chat’s baton. That’s an odd weapon to wield. Being experienced, she could foresee the inefficiency of that move and indeed, all it took Mixalot was a plain crouch to evade the attack. She could also guess what would come next, Mixalot firing a shot of cement towards her leg. While a short hop backward saved that girl from being hit by the first one, the second one hit her other leg. Now it was Ladybug’s turn to return the favor from a moment ago. She grabbed her by the yo-yo and pulled as hard as she could to get her out of harm’s way. She now had a quick frontal view, noting green eyes which mismatched her bright cyan mask and garb. The miniature hexagon pattern on both her mask and bodysuit confirmed her to be a superheroine. Otherwise, her figure was pretty much similar to Ladybug’s own, somewhat short and relatively thin. She watched with concern as the new superheroine ran tried to redo her hoop extending maneuver again, charging forward then jumping backward. Quickly noting her own safety was at risk, she tried to evade the move, but eventually, the only thing stopping her from being hit was the hoop being contracted. This isn’t going well. At all. The sound of her partner’s voice gave her hope that this tide would now turn, having little confidence in her ability to work in sync with the newcomer without getting hurt. “Chat Noir! Thanks for dropping!” “Hey, blockhead, why don’t you set for a bit? I wouldn’t want to cement our relationship just yet.” She heard the taunt aimed at Mixalot and for once, the puns were significantly appreciated. It was easy for her to see just how displeased Mixalot was at being taunted like that, charging towards Chat with careless fury. This should make him easy prey for her competent partner. A nimble flip and a baton strike later, her prediction became true. The concrete spade was pinged out of the akumatized victim’s belt, right towards the new superheroine. Come on… break it! The confused look on the newcomer’s face wasn’t boding well, evoking in Ladybug memories of her own early career. “Break it!” She cried, only to see Mixalot grab it from the newcomer’s hands. The girl’s face twitched as she crouched and lunged forward while spinning her hoop, aiming for the center of mass. Again this resulted in little more than forcing Mixalot to jump and evade it with ease. She’s letting her emotions get the better of her… is this her first real fight? That hoop is also one heck of a weird weapon. I wonder if there are better ways to use it. She watched Mixalot respond by sending two shots in opposite directions, one towards Chat Noir and the other towards the cyan superheroine. Chat evaded the one aimed at him with ease, while the other shot crashed against the rapidly spinning hoop. At that moment, the realization that she wasn’t being targeted dawned upon Ladybug. Such a rare event did not occur much when fighting as a duo, but having three targets did make for this difference. Not being under any pressure, there was ample opportunity for her to summon an item. “LUCKY CHARM” She called, presented with an oversized four-way rotating water sprinkler. A water sprinkler? What am I going to do with that? As she surveyed her surroundings, she saw her own yo-yo, the construction scaffolding, the extendable hoop, the cement mixture jet hole and the sprinkler. Maybe I can construct something here... “Keep him busy! Cyan-girl, On my mark, make sure he can’t touch the ground!” Now that would be good use of the hoop, creating a dead-zone which he has to avoid. She began running around the area, practically weaving a net with her yo-yo’s string amongst the scaffolding, as she tossed the sprinkler towards Chat. “Now!” She cried. Chat lunged towards Mixalot, fitting the sprinkler on the mixture jet hole. At the same time, the cyan superheroine crouched and began to spin her hoop, forcing everyone else above the ground. Mixalot jumped to avoid it and attempted to shoot another cement ball. The sprinkler rotated very quickly, spraying his eyes and the entire surrounding with cement but more importantly, giving him rotational acceleration which entirely threw off his balance. As she planned, Mixalot now had to choose between landing into the fast-rotating hoop on the ground and clearing the yo-yo string trap, with barely any maneuverability or eyesight available. Such a feat was beyond his ability and soon enough he found the sprinkler tangling with the yo-yo string, slamming him to the ground and dislodging the concrete spade. This time, it was Chat that grabbed and broke it, releasing the Akuma for Ladybug to capture. Ladybug whipped her yo-yo and swiftly captured the black butterfly before it could get too far. --- "Bye bye little butterfly!” Ladybug and Chat Noir fist-bumped each other while the new superheroine panted for air. Relieved, she finally turned to address the newcomer. “Hey… thanks for the save. That was very brave of you. But you really took a great risk appearing out of nowhere like this.” Her gratitude was inherently mixed with the difficulties the unexpected fight posed. This certainly wasn’t the preferred way to make an acquaintanceship. “Th-thanks.”She noted the girl was still panting for air, placing her hoop on her back and having it just fit there, as if by magic. She asked Chat to tend to the poor overwhelmed construction worker so she could exchange a few words with the newcomer. “I have to tell you that we are used to fighting in tandem and we change our tactics when there’s a third superhero.״ She paused to observe how the newcomer would react. However, that girl appeared to be still busy reorienting herself. “You’d have to get some training and match the tactics. Um. How should we call you?” She wanted to have a name, at least. “Call me… Yamori. or Gecko, if you prefer that name.” “Okay, Gecko, so… um…” Yeah, now what exactly? She stood there thinking where all this was leading. Then Gecko spoke. “Well, since that happened… shouldn’t I be joining you?” She stared at Gecko and suddenly she felt disoriented by the upheaval these simple words caused. It’s simple, isn’t it? And yet it’s anything but simple! I mean, we don’t work with Rena or Carapace or Queen Bee on a regular basis. We don’t need to! And if we did have such a need… I’d like to have Alya as my partner, wouldn’t I? And then again… she is here. How could we not make use of a new superheroine offering her help? But… don’t the people of Paris deserve the most efficient combination to safeguard them? And who’s to say what that would be? Or that my own personal preferences aren’t interfering with my thoughts regarding it? Her head spun, she opted to consult with her partner. “Ok, Gecko. before we rush into this, or anything of kind… I’d like to have a moment with Chat in private. There are decisions us two need to make.” She and chat stepped aside to discuss as Gecko nodded her approval. “So, what do you think, Chat?” she whispered to her partner, hoping to get him involved and perhaps mitigate what seemed to be a growing burden on her. “I say, We already have a yo-yo and a baton. Do we really need a third wheel -” No no no. keep your humor to other times! He deserved a good stepping on his leg for that one, and he yelped as she did. His face twisted in pain. “Chat, That was terrible! Akumatize-her-terrible! She didn’t appear here just to have us mock her like that, she clearly looks up to us!” She chided him, then paused and sighed, deflated. “You’re right though, Chat. We don’t actually have a need for someone else, much less a rookie. Then again, if we don’t train her, she will forever be a rookie. We also can’t call her on demand as we do with Rena and Carapace.” A quick glance at Chat showed him having a more serious and contemplative look. She finally got him where she needed him to be at this moment. “Sorry about the pun. for what it’s worth, I felt almost as bad making it. With regards to Gecko, you call it. I’m actually happy to be second in command right now.” So, payback for that comment at the puppeteer incident, huh? But he did apologize for the pun. And he does trust me. She noted his smile and loosened up a bit. The thought he trusted her judgment on this very big question with important ramifications, made her feel a bit more at ease. “I guess honesty would be the right thing with… wait, what did you just say? That I’m her commander?” She balked at the suggestion, but the Cat went on. “Looks like you got yourself a trainee. I’m sure you can handle it.” She felt a pat on her back and couldn’t tell if it’s out of support, out of gloating at her predicament or a bit of both. Either way, her sense of responsibility made the distinction moot as she focused on making progress towards a decision. Sincerity is key. I will not lie to her. For it to have any chance of working out, I must trust her and she must trust me. She and Chat turned back to her, looking at Gecko who caught up her breath by now and seemed to be anticipating what they had to say. Ladybug broke the silence. “Here’s the situation, Gecko. Me and Chat Noir are a team. Other miraculous holders serve as backup. That’s how it has been so far and I just don’t see it changing.” She paused for a moment to check how Gecko responded to that, but she couldn’t quite discern it yet, so she went on. “But… we would really appreciate a reduction of the workload. You will patrol alone while one of us will be on standby. once a week your patrol will be with me and once with Chat Noir, as we can’t have you stay a rookie forever. I’ll also supervise your training. Let’s meet here in two hours to check out your skills, as I need to recharge. We have a lot more talking to do, too.” There was an awkward silence. She eyed Gecko, trying to guess her thoughts from her expression yet again. How is she going to take it? Will she be disappointed? She then noted a small smile slowly crept to Gecko’s face as she heard her answer. “I would expect nothing less than such wise words from you.” Gecko bowed her head and followed it with a hand motion. “I’m happy to serve under your guidance.” Wait… Serve under my guidance? Oh my god, what exactly have I gotten myself into?

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn #wait for it #this is going to sport the entire lovesquare #happening at the same time #shipper on deck #shipper with an agenda #and rena rouge as never seen before #and a kwami swap #but not the one you think

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muggleriddle · 7 years

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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)

#tom riddle #tom riddle sr #my oldest and dearest son #headcanons #mine #asks

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