#i've wanted some for years but never felt confident in my ability to grow them from seed

[dinopuncher]

bought some lithops seeds back in july and the oldest one (in the middle here) has just started to split! at two and a half months old they’re about the size of a pencil eraser and i’m so proud.

[eye-of-enigmatic-thought]

[Note: Image description is in the alt text of the images due to its length. Let me know if writing them down on the post's description is more preferred!]

Here is Wilt!! My Flower Kid for Smile For Me with a new and improved art ref! I still love this tall goober even if I've never done much with them, lets hope that changes seeing my hyperfixation for Smile For Me STILL isn't over!!

Additional info and their backstory under the cut!

In the middle of nowhere in the US, there was a old reclusive farmer. This farmer took care of everything mostly on his own and didn't allow many people to come onto his property, the reasons varied, but part of it had to do with how he had Shadow abilities that he'd use to 'possess' straw bodies to help him in his work, also part of how he was able to care for his farm on his own as well.

The farmer however, would grow especially attached to a scarecrow he constructed to ward away any pesky birds from his crops. This attachment would prove to be so great, that the shadows from the Farmer would separate and make the scarecrow into their own person, who the Farmer would name 'Wilt' for their droopy appearance and tendency to care for even the most wilted plants.

The farmer and Wilt had a father-child bond, and he took care of them and taught them everything he knew. However even if the farmer tried his best, he was still a recluse and didnt dare step away from his farm, and so neither did Wilt, leading to them to be very unsocialised, things became worse when the Farmer eventually passed from his old age, leaving Wilt alone for many years until when in their early 20s, they finally decided the loneliness was too great for them to bear, and decided to leave it for the nearby town their father would distribute their crops to.

Wilt had a incredibly hard time adjusting to town life, they were not only incredibly clumsy and would get into a lot of accidents, but their social inability made many find them unsettling to be around. Even now surrounded by other people, Wilt was still lonely, and for a while mostly spent time exploring the streets in hopes for someone to interact with, even if briefly.

Eventually, they were found by a friendly couple that ran a flower shop and needed a helping hand. When they saw Wilt's ability to care for flowers that had even wilted greatly, they decided to take them in and help them settle in. Whilst Wilt now had a occupation and friends in the shop owners, they still felt lonely from how many customers would still find them offputting and how the shop owners had a lot of difficulty understanding them. Even now, they were still unhappy.

Eventually, some mysterious fliers would appear around town, talking about a retreat known as the Habitat where sad people go to fix their frowns. Intrigued and feeling that they could use something to fix their frown, Wilt decided to embark to the mysterious Habitat...

Wilt, personality wise, is a very empathetic and kindhearted scarecrow, always wanting to help others and nurse unhealthy plants back to health. Their empathy can be so strong that the thought of stepping on flowers makes them shriek in emotional pain.

Unfortunately Wilt has incredibly poor social skills due to only ever knowing their farmer father, who was also very socially inept. They barely talk and often can only make wheezing sounds or say short one syllabel words at a time due to anxiety. However, this anxiety is a tad eased when Wilt talks with their little crow puppet Root, which was made to initially tell jokes to make their father smile and laugh, and so ends up being more confident (and even sassy) with it.

Despite this overall anxiety, Wilt has at times a mischevious side, and has the habit of sometimes standing completely still like a regular scarecrow before jumping at someone to surprise them as a joke, though they don't always understand why someone wouldn't laugh back at them!

[tvreadsandsleep]

Here’s some of what I’ve written for the Dark!Attuma story idea @xblackreader posted the other day. I haven’t gotten to the explicit stuff yet, but it’s definitely going to be dubious consent and involve some choking. Unfortunately, because of work, the story probably won’t get finished until my day off on Wednesday. Let me know what y’all think of the opening. 

ETA: I was just reading this over to continue writing and there are typos galore. Sorry about that. What I post on Wednesday will be a lot better. 

ETA (3/8): I've finished writing the story! You can find it here on AO3 or check out my writing tag.

While making her way to Haiti, Okoye had heard from multiple sources about the many disappearances that had occurred on the island over the past few months. First, the person who’d been seated beside her on the plane had prattled on, eyes wide and hands gesturing, until Okoye had rudely cut the woman off by placing in her headphones. Afterward, the cabdriver she’d hired to chauffer her from the airport to her hotel had warned her off being on the beach late at night, his eyes staring at her through his car’s rearview mirror much longer then felt comfortable.

Now, the young women standing in line in front of her to check into the hotel, both seeming to have already been partaking in the copious amounts of alcohol available, were telling the tales of the disappearances, aiming to spook one another, as though they were telling ghost stories.

Rolling her eyes, Okoye readied what she needed to check into her suite. She was fed up with the warnings and speculation. She’d come to the Caribbean for a rejuvenating vacation and planned on having exactly that. She wanted no worries, no sadness, no anger, and, most definitely, nothing pertaining to possible kidnappings and murder distracting her from her aims. For her this was a chance to rediscover her happiness, to touch base with herself and decide what she wanted after years of serving the Royal Family.

So, she’d turned off her Kimoyo Beads, tossing them to the bottom of her bag before boarding the plane and had rejected all other forms of communication (not that she would’ve been caught dead using one of those primitive iPhones or, Bast forbid, picked up a tablet). While booking her hotel suite, she’d requested the television, and even radio, be removed from her room. In addition to rejuvenating, her vacation would be as technology free as possible to allow for the uninterrupted exploration of self and communing with nature.

When it was her turn at the front of the line, Okoye made quick work of checking-in. She received the keycard to her room and made off, dragging her oversized luggage behind her, without delay. Her room was situated on the first floor and featured large windows that would grant an unobstructed view of the next morning’s sunrise. It wasn’t the most secure area of the hotel, but she felt confident in her ability to keep herself safe. She may have been forcibly demoted from her position as General of the Dora Milaje, but her decades of vigorous training could never be taken from her.

She inspected the cleanliness of the space, taking in his beige and white color scheme, before finding it satisfactory and unpacking her luggage. It was still early in the day and she wanted to spend her first evening in Haiti on the beach, basking in the sunlight as she read one of the hardcover novels she’d packed.

Her loose pants and t-shirt were replaced by the skimpiest bikini she owned. Hinting at decorum, she wore a sheer coverup over the barely there bathing suit and arranged a wide brim sunhat over her quickly growing, tightly coiled hair. She completed the look with a pair of sunglasses and left her room, taking with her everything she would need for the day. She didn’t plan on returning to the suite until well after dark.

The hotel was located on the beach and with fewer than a hundred steps, Okoye was able to find a secluded portion of the beach. She placed herself away from the families and couples who’d populated the sands, and placed down her bard and beach towel. An attendant from the hotel approached and within minutes she had a drink in hand and a lounge chair with an umbrella to make her space that much more accommodating.

Settling in, she opened her book then gazed at the majestic clear blue sea. Wakanda may have had the most beautiful sunset, but its landlocked nature prevented it from having this, its riverbanks paling in comparison to the expanse of endless ocean glistening under the summer sun.

Her afternoon and evening passed in a blur of reading and sun, interspaced with the occasional nap, light intoxication brought on by the drinks she’d consumed and a full belly she’d achieved from the food she’d procured from the nearby vendors. This was the most relaxed she’d been in months (more like years, if she was being honest) and before she knew it the sun had begun to set.

The families in the distance had already packed their things and left, while the few couples that remained seemed on their way to doing the same. Okoye lingered where she was, waving away the beach attendant’s concerns when he’d checked on her before the end of his shift.

She’d returned the lounge chair and umbrella, no longer needing them with the sun’s descent, and moved further down the beach, leaving the hotel behind in the distance. Putting her bag down in the sand, she sat near the shoreline and watched as the stars begun to twinkle in the sky. The moon now reflected off the water, which had appeared to darken without the sun’s bright light. The sight was no less captivating than it had been in the early afternoon. In fact, she preferred this view, finding solace in the anonymity offered by the growing dark.

Her solitude was momentarily interrupted by the singing of a man hurriedly making his way across the beach. The man approached her but kept a respectable distance as he peered at her. She recognized him as the person who’d been renting jet skis to the hotel patrons. Okoye offered him a slight wave and smile, hoping the man would continue on his way with little, preferably no, conversation.

“Young lady, you shouldn’t stay here alone with the sun going down. People have been disappearing.” The man’s voice was stern as he lifted his hands to his hips.

Okoye, who knew she’d left her father back in Wakanda, bristled at the man’s tone. She was a lady, but far from young, and could protect herself if the need arose.

“I’ve heard,” she responded, working to keep her answer amicable. “I won’t be out here much longer.” She turned her eyes back to the ocean, hoping that bit of assurance would be enough to propel the man on his way.

Okoye knew it hadn’t been when the man continued, “Have you heard the legend of Nonm Reken?” The man asked, also turning to look toward the sea, though he stood at a much further distance.

“Shark Man?” Okoye translated with what little she knew of Haitian Creole.

“Wi, he was a boy abandoned by his parents on this very beach. Some say his father tried to drown him. Others say his parents just left him and ran away. Either way, he descended into the water and was raised by the sharks.” The man’s voice was serious, and edged in warning as he begun backing even further away from the shoreline. “Stay out here long enough and you’ll meet him. He’ll eat you! I know he’s behind all those missing people!”

Okoye had stood while the man spoke, pretending to be readying to leave but stopped and rolled her eyes at the man’s tale. She wanted to tell him that nothing about his story made sense but held her tongue. Wouldn’t the boy have simply drowned? How could be have possibly been raised by sharks? Why had his parents abandoned him in the first place?

Instead she schooled her expression back to something cordial and said, “Okay, well, thank you for the information,” before turning back to the ocean and putting an end to their conversation.

She heard him mumble something about her being fou under his breath as he finally continued on his way. Frowning, as her head whipped around to glare at his retreating back, Okoye muttered, “If anyone is crazy, it’s you.” She then returned to her seated position and took a deep breath as she sought to find her previous calm.

[stillwinterair]

Howdy kids

My name is Dee! It's not the name I went by for most of my years on Tumblr, but it's the one everyone knows me as. You might remember my url as nyriad, visovari... I went by a bunch of others too, but those are the only two I seem to remember now 😅

The last time I was on Tumblr, I was in the middle of a very difficult period of my life that I didn't really have the tools or support to navigate. But sometimes you gotta go a lil wacky and make some fresh new regrets so you can grow up a lil bit wiser and sexier

I quit the internet pretty much cold turkey for a while and it was one of the best things I ever did for myself. I spent a year pretty much focusing on nothing but my immediate surroundings, living in my own skin, learning how to love myself. I've gotten a lot more comfortable being myself, and have grown a lot more connected to the earth.

In my time away, I was diagnosed with ADHD, which even just the diagnosis has significantly improved almost every facet of my life. I've gotten so many new tools and so much new language to express myself and my needs. I've stopped feeling like there is something wrong with me and let go of a lot of shame that I held around myself, my work flow, my ability to focus, my needs for rest, etc. As I've met more people with ADHD, I've grown a lot more empowered and confident. I'm still figuring out what medication works for me (Adderall and Concerta are hell incarnate; Ritalin and Vyvanse are the bee's knees). It's been revolutionary and healing, honestly. Reading the book "Driven to Distraction" was an important first step that I recommend to everyone who's ever thought they might have ADHD, or if you were like me, always felt stupid and slow and always wondered why you never could quite get around to doing all the things you want to do.

I am also currently pursuing a diagnosis for Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, as per my doctor's suggestion. I won't get into it too much here, but it is a chronic illness that has made the last year pretty difficult. I have a lot of severe chronic joint pain and lethargy, and it's been... a lot. I'm starting physical therapy soon. This part isn't fun to talk about, but it's becoming an important part of my identity.

I've also met the love of my life, my soon-to-be fiancee, Nathalie! We were inseparable pretty much from the day we met, and spent a year as best friends. And then after that year the sexual tension became too much to handle, and now another year later, here we are, stupidly in love, utterly obsessed with each other, turning every single day into a fun, wacky, new adventure lmao. We've built the most beautiful, trusting, communicative, intimate relationship I've ever experienced and I am so filled with pride and joy and love and happiness every day. We're still best friends -- no force on this earth could ever get us to shut up when we're in the same room. She just fills me with butterflies and glee and light. Nat has this burning desire to create in whatever the most tactile medium she can find is. She loves mechanisms and fibers and all of the ways different materials interact with each other. She inspires me every day to be more open and honest and to pursue whatever creative venture has caught my interest, and I do the same for her. We dance together, create together, and share big emotions and life goals and it's just the most beautiful thing I've ever felt, and this paragraph could go on forever if I don't end it right now

I've also finally started to settle into my writing flow. I've got a space opera that's really beginning to take shape and I'm pretty proud of what it's turning into :) I also have a fantasy saga that's following a few steps behind. Both are things I've been working on for nearly a decade in fits and spurts, but I've done more work on them in the last year than in all previous years combined. I've gotten into more artistic mediums as well: oil painting, photography, beading, and so on. And very into fashion, kind of. Y'all should see my wardrobe these days -- bright colors, crazy patterns, wacky silhouettes. I feel like I finally look like myself. I'm currently rocking a purple mullet and a mustache, so... yeah, I'm having fun with it

I'm not sure how many of my old friends and mutuals are still hanging around, but I wanted to say hey, track a few of you down, and give a little update on how things are going for me post-Tumblr. I am alive, and I'm pretty happy these days. Some days I miss it here, and while I'll never come back in the same capacity as I used to, I wanted to reconnect with some of my old friends that I used to talk to and hang around with every day! I'm gonna poke around over the next while and see who's still around :) honestly I still think about some of y'all on the daily, and I got too curious about how my old friends were doing.

If you want to keep in touch, I'm on Instagram as deehollandaise. I'm on Discord much less often, but if you want to connect there, shoot me a message and I'll share the deets. Warning that I am just straight up not involved in any fandom stuff these days. It's just not for me anymore.

I will be retiring this blog in the new year, setting the whole dang thing to private and probably starting a new one with which to share some of my creative projects. I'll let y'all know about it before that happens.

I don't know, this is all kinda word vomit, I guess I just wanted to let all my old friends know that I'm still here and that I'm finally figuring myself out. I've got a lot to be proud of and grateful for and I've barely scratched the surface, so I'll leave off with some recent photos. Have a hot & sweaty 2024, you sexy things 😘

- Dee

[solottrpgchronicles]

4a. Abstract - The Last Tea Shop

Shop name: The Vagrant Tea Leaf

Supplies: sea salt, ginkgo leaf, giant puffball, cloud dew

Days: 16

Visitor: an artist

It was the first day of sunshine in a while. I nearly abandoned my post to step outside the shop and bask in the warm light when a visitor walked in.

She looked at peace, as if she wasn't troubled by what she was leaving behind; perhaps the weather was just too nice to feel sad.

We exchanged a smile as she took a seat. She then gazed happily at her surroundings, studying every little detail.

It was a good day to try out my new Tea of Mirth, so I grabbed some cloud dew from a jar and began brewing it.

"I've never met a visitor as accepting of their fate as you," I remarked. "There must be something you left unfinished though, right?"

"Ah, indeed. I'm an artist, so it was practically impossible to depart the mortal world without any unfinished business. You see, I used to make decorative chess sets - quite niche, isn't it? But a surprising amount of people seemed to love them. They'd visit my shop to commission the most disparate themes or purchase one of my already made sets. Each piece was hand-painted in intricate detail; it took me a considerable amount of time to complete a full set, but the work felt fulfilling and I loved immersing myself in it.

However, after some time, I found myself growing restless. Day after day, I worked tirelessly, but I was either fulfilling commissions or replicating popular pieces from the past. My hands moved almost mechanically while working, and my mind wandered.

I needed a new challenge.

That challenge presented itself when an architect reached out about her ambitious project: a chess-themed neighbourhood, with two rows of buildings placed at opposite ends of a park, each building designed to resemble a chess piece. She wanted me to collaborate on planning the art for the buildings.

I accepted immediately and, for a while, I was content and fully immersed in my work once again.

I'm confident it would have turned out pretty great in the end; however, on a stormy day, while I was working onsite, lightning struck me. It was unfortunate, but when the project is complete that accident will probably make for an intriguing story, and attract more tourists."

I handed her a cup of my Tea of Mirth, steaming hot.

"What an incredible job you had," I commented, smiling warmly. "Did you ever come to any sudden realizations during your years as an artist?"

She took a sip of the tea and chuckled. "Actually, yeah. I mentioned my pieces were intricately decorated, but I didn't specify my style was pretty abstract. Sometimes clients would admire my chess sets, but with a hint of puzzlement on their faces, as if they couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind them.

I found it funny, especially when they couldn't work up the courage to ask any questions - they'd just buy my pieces, pretending to understand them. I could have felt offended by their behaviour, or doubted my abilities, but that's just not my personality.

My favourite episode was when a customer walked in with their kid and bought a botanical themed set from me. I was talking about flowers that inspired me when the kid, with a skeptical look on his face, interrupted me and said, "Do you even know what flowers look like, miss?"

And, ouch, that stung a bit. A few days later I went on a hike; looking at the nature around me I thought, "Wow, that kid was right." My art was definitely abstract, but that's just the way my brain and my hands interpret the world. I've always been happy with my style, and other people seemed to appreciate it too, even when they didn't fully understand it. My art brought joy to a few people, and to myself - that's all I can ask for."

She was a slow tea drinker, and we kept talking about her memories and giggling for a good hour or so, but in the end, it was time to go.

Before saying goodbye, she stared intently at the portrait of the minstrel, my previous visitor, and said, "Hey, I had a portrait like this one in my home! I got it for pretty cheap at the charity shop."

I walked her to the door. She waved at me, still smiling, as the sunbeams took her.

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

This is a playthrough of a solo TTRPG called The Last Tea Shop, by Spring Villager.

You can check it out on itch.io: https://springvillager.itch.io/last-tea-shop

[edendeleon-art]

A personal, artistic reflection to end 2023

This has been a very complicated year in relationship to my art, I took a break from it due to many factors. When I would sit down with my sketchbook open in front of me, I felt very nervous to grab a pencil, thinking I was wasting my time and not doing anything to improve my life, like going to Uni or getting a job. The mere act of doing something for my pleasure evoked a great sense of guilt; there were a lot of negative emotions related to art creation stemming from recent trauma (which I still do not feel comfortable openly talking about to this day).

I drew inconsistently while putting most of my effort on other things: activism, community events and activities, going out with friends, basic photography classes, reading, cooking, writing, therapy, pets, and so on.

The few drawings I made were mostly out of personal and external obligation than passion; I dont deride them completely since they helped me improve a lot, but I wish I could've balanced things out better. I was very lost on what I wanted to do with my future and had my priorities all messed up.

Now, I'm still not entirely sure what I want for my future and how that would look like, but I think I have a little bit more clarity and better organization skills than a few months ago. I feel my connection with art has started healing and no longer see it as a medium that disempowers me, rather the opposite, I've never felt more empowered by my art than today. The ability to express my experiences in regards to my transness, disabilities, sexual identities, childhood, adolescence, relationships, nature, etc. and not have a sense of shame or worthlessness is a very important step that I will carry in the future.

I have a lot of ideas Im confident I can pull out. They might take me a little while, but they'll be released eventually. Right now I've been taking a break from drawing due to many personal situations arising in the past month, but I think I'm ready to grab my pencil again and do stuff. I've got some art pending that I'll finish throughout January, although I'll also be preparing sketches for new art coming.

It has been tough, way too emotionally taxing, and I doubt things will get any easier from now on. Yet Im still alive and I think that's gotta mean something. I cannot be thankful enough for how much I've been able to grow collectively and individually.

Thank you to all my friends and followers who have supported my art so far, I really appreciate it and I hope I can continue to bring you something in the future.

Take care and happy new year

[whats-k-popping]

can you write bts stuff again? we are bored and straving

It's true, I have seen a significant decrease in new fics for BTS recently. I think a lot of ARMY are exploring other kpop groups since BTS started their military enlistment process and solo careers.

That being said, I think there is no time like the present to formally announce my rebranding. I've alluded to it a couple of times, but never formally released anything that explains my rebranding process.

When I started this blog, I always intended to write for multiple groups. (Hence why I chose a non-BTS specific blog name) But at the time, the only group I felt comfortable writing for was BTS. After a while, I became more confident in my ability to write other group dynamics, but I became kind of known on the site as a BTS writer. So I wasn't sure how to make the transition.

Then when BTS announced their military enlistment and solo projects, I found it would be a good segue into branching into writing for other groups. Then life happened, and I talked all about that in another post so I won't rehash it. But I've been drafting works for other groups for quite a while now.

I also think their personalities are changing as a result of their solo work. I'm excited to see how they grow and adapt and incorporate some of these changes into my future writing. I feel they have all matured so much in the last year, and I don't want to write them without acknowledging their growth. And how they will interact with each other moving forward.

So to answer your question, yes. I will write for BTS again at some point. They will always be a group that I'm open to writing for. But I also want to focus on rebranding myself as a multi-group writing blog and continue to watch them flourish individually. So it probably won't be for a while. I'm sorry if this disappoints you.

[archangelmacaron]

I woke up painfully early again, so I guess my New Year's musings can go here.

It's really strange to think about how, not even a year ago, I wasn't writing or drawing at all. I hadn't seriously sat at a keyboard for years, and hadn't picked up a pencil for even longer than that. I always loved writing, but I just didn't feel like I had much to say. I've always felt confident in my ability to write fanfiction believably, but original stories seemed so far beyond me. I tried to write something once dealing with my grief of losing someone important to me, but even then, the problem was I was too focused on what other people would think of it--and this was before the word 'problematic' was thrown all over the internet. 'Is this character too mean? is this one too much of a 'mary sue'? She's sixteen and he's an ancient fae, is that too much of an age gap!?' (Even back then, it was a human-inhuman relationship, although the characters were all human-looking--something I'm a little bored by now, if I'm honest!) I really didn't get very far in this... and I'm almost positive I unthinkingly deleted all copies. My biggest mistake was I felt I needed to write in order--so of course I'd get stuck! I think it was Calvin Wong who said, drastically paraphrasing, 'painters don't start by always painting the top left corner blue, why is writing different?' I cannot explain what a breakthrough it was to understand that I didn't have to write scene A, then B, then C, etc--I could write scene D or even M or Z, whatever came to me at that moment, and go back and loop them together--or discard them if they no longer fit. There really are no rules.

My other major breakthrough was realizing I didn't want to write about human relationships. I actually can pinpoint when that occurred, after playing a few seasons of Noel TMF, I started to feel hungry for something, some specific story with specific dynamics, but I couldn't say what. After being unable to find something that hit that spot, I realized it was up to me to create it myself. I sat down one day and started to write for myself only. I never intended to share it with anyone, and that was very freeing--especially as literally all of my artistic work for years was made to be shared, it didn't have meaning otherwise. It's not really an art form I would do 'just for me.' Noel wasn't the only inspiration here. A few years ago, The Ancient Magus' Bride came out, and I cannot overstate the impact that had on me. Chise and I went through almost the exact same thing which just blew my mind. I cannot describe how cathartic it was to read the words 'I don't forgive you' about such a situation. Watching her learn and grow and become happy meant so much to me, and while back then, I would never have considered myself capable of writing such a story myself, now I know it's what I want to do. I want to help someone else, the way that helped me understand recovery is possible no matter what you've been through, no matter how cursed you feel. Sometimes, I do still feel cursed, it's like people drag that curse back to me, like I can't escape it--which was why I was struggling so hard this month. I had to understand that the familial relationships I craved my entire life were not the familial relationships I was ever going to have, and let that dream go.

And so, I set out to write my own stories of healing and understanding and mystery and just a touch of horror. And I haven't been able to stop since. I'm not sure if, by excitedly looking forward to writing every day, to write something that 'hit the spot' I was seeking, that I trained myself into needing to write every day--I know that's how it worked for drawing, a habit is much more important than motivation! I think the final reason I write so much is, well, you! The support and enthusiasm from this handful of people who read my stories, starting with fanfic, and then actually caring about my original content, has blown my mind. The burst of joy I get from reading a comment--any comment--is one of the best feelings of my life. Even a 'like' on a post excites and inspires me to keep sharing, and even thinking that I'd like to reach more people for whom my stories 'hit the spot.' This is long, so maybe my art musings can be done another day. Or maybe I can go back to work on writing, after all, I really love it now! Thank you again for all your support. That matters, far more than you might think. I hope I keep creating things that make you smile!

[iris-sistibly]

It was the hour of the owl, everyone except the guards on night’s watch had retired to their beds. After a long day, the castle was finally at peace…

Rhaenyra Targaryen stood by the window of the bedroom she shares with her husband. Her eyes on the starry night sky, a hand on her belly, her mind lost in her thoughts yet again. The next moon, she was set to bring another child into the world. Her sixth, and her third with Daemon. Ironic at how she hated the idea of childbirth when she was younger, yet here she was with another life inside her womb. She always dreaded the excruciating pain of labor and birthing, but the loud wails of every child she pushed out into this world was like music to her ears. Each time a squirming babe is placed in her arms, she is overwhelmed with joy. Raising them, and witnessing them grow into such handsome and good men was the best reward she could ever ask for. Being a mother to her children was something she loved the most, and Rhaenyra vowed that this child inside her will be just as loved, guided and cared for as her siblings.

Rhaenyra hoped that one day, her daughter would grow into a beautiful, fearless dragonrider, but also a wise, loving, and kind woman. And may she be delighted by the realm more than Rhaenyra has ever been.

Moments later, the princess felt a pair of arms wrap around her swollen belly. Even without looking, Rhaenyra knew who it was, the familiar scent, the warmth of his body against hers, his lips pressing against her shoulder, his ability to effortlessly sweep her off her feet. Daemon Targaryen whispered in her ear, "Can't sleep my love?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, "I've been thinking…"

"Of what?"

"A name for the babe…" the princess answered, "She needs a name Daemon."

"She? You sound so certain that we'll be having a girl," Daemon sounded rather amused. Rhaenyra on the other hand shrugged, "I just know," she answered.

The former chuckled, "Alright then, what do you have in mind?"

Rhaenyra smiled and turned around to face him, "Visenya," she said dreamily. She has always harbored admiration for the conqueror’s queen–beautiful, strong, powerful woman. Had her late brother Baelon been a girl, she would have named him as such. But ever since she found out that she has conceived once more, she always had this feeling that she would be having a daughter…her very own Visenya.

Daemon smiled back and claimed her lips, then rested his forehead against hers, "A fitting name for a fine dragon indeed."

-Visenya (by: Iris)

A/N: Hellooooooo! Before the year ends, I’m posting some stuff from my drafts folder that I either:

Never had the chance to finish but finally had the motivation to do so.

Didn’t post it because I wasn’t confident or satisfied with my work.

Didn’t edit them sooner because I was either busy or feeling lazy af.

Anyway,

The HoTD fever hasn’t completely worn off my entire system yet, and the truth of the matter is…I miss the show. The first time I wrote a Daemyra fanfic was waaaay back after episode 4 (*clears throat* the brothel scene) was aired. Still haven’t gotten over the fact that there were so many great scenes that they left out, and felt worse when Matt actually campaigned for some of it (three I think?) to be included but was unsuccessful.

Anyhoo…this scene has been in my head for quite awhile, I started writing the first half of it way back in mid-November but…I decided to delete the first part. Not that I hated it, but perhaps I just wanted to highlight this particular Daemyra moment because I hated how they were written (Daemon particularly) in the season finale. AGAIN, Daemon loves his daughters, his wife and stepsons, I don’t care how the screenwriters wrote him in the show.

P.S. This scene that I had in mind was set a couple of days (or weeks, I really don't care) before Daemon and Rhaenyra returned to King’s Landing to defend Luke’s claim to Driftmark. When they were living peacefully with their kiddos in Dragonstone. Also, I like the idea of them sharing the same bed because they’re not the typical royal husband and wife of their time.

[cremederosee]

Felt the urge to write something here which hasn't really happened in a while. Tried the whole journaling thing but that didn't hit the same. This feels like my truest diary, something I've grown up with for the past however many years. It's like an old, familiar friend that makes you feel safe.

I'm in the pacific northwest, in bed overlooking a hill surrounded by tall pine trees. I'm sleepy. The dryer is running and all I can hear is the thud of the wool balls hitting the metal as the dryer tumbles. I'm flying out in a few hours to see my cousins and extended family.

Work is boring and unfulfilling. The days are filled with no mental challenges worthy enough to excite and push me further. I want so badly to leave :') but im grateful to even have a job. Hoping something will change soon.

I can't wait for summer and warmer weather. I'm sick of dry skin and layering up to stop myself from shivering incessantly. I miss frolicking in the desert with a tan and my best friends. Soon, soon!

Can't tell if I want to grow my hair out or cut it to a bob again. I was waiting for the weather to get warmer before making the chop butttt I saw some old photos of myself with longer hair and i kinda liked it. Definitely not dyeing it again. I only like my dyed hair for a week then switch back to my darker roots.

Been snowboarding consistently and I'm feeling confident in my abilities. Recently went to the best mountain in north america; being able to go down a tier up from green was extremely rewarding. Never thought I'd end up liking this sport so much but I now understand the hype. lol.

These days I've been wearing less makeup. I think i've just been feeling lazy. I'm working on building back up my appetite to do some face beats again. The weekends are better when I have time on my side and I'm not rushing to work half asleep. Same goes for clothing. Why is everything so expensive? Hitting 6 figures is not cutting it the same way it used to.

To wrap this up, I'm feeling thankful for all the experiences that I've gone through lately. Feeling immense gratitude for my family, friends, and partner for keeping me grounded. I'm whole because of them. There's so many things in store this year. Lot's to look forward to.

talk soon.

xx

[saturnianbooks]

2023 Reading Wrap Up

Okay!!! So i wasn't able to keep up with one, monthly, kind of post. Honestly, i can't call myself a blogger even if i wanted to. No worries, because last year was actually the first time in a while that i felt i was actually living my life instead of just existing in the world, i was experiencing it. So, tiny victories i guess.

About the books, now. I don't know why or how i do it, but since i fell in love with reading books, back in 2014, i've kept a streak of 24 books per year. It's not a bad number because i read slowly. Besides, at least i'm reading something, you know? There's no rule saying i should read fast or a thousand per year... I've tried, though! I can't get away from 24, can't get past it and feel really sad if i stay one number bellow it. And that's the number of books i've read in 2023... More or less. Let me expain.

January is the month i can usually read the most. It's summer here in Brasil, i finally feel rested from working and studying for a whole year and i'm hyped to read all those exciting stories i hear about. It's not surprising i managed to read 6 books that month last year. A good way of starting my yearly book journey. Sure three of them were small, fast reading books and one was a comic book, but still. The january wrap up cwas posted by another name because the idea of doing it the whole year came later. And i managed to keep it up for just a semester. So you can find the February, March, April, May and June wrap ups on my blog. The second semester of 2023 was a bit messy. Here are the rest of my book reviews.

Arsène Lupin: Gentleman Cambrioleur

I picked it up because of the Netflix series, because i wanted to practice my French reading skills and also because i had a flight with nothing to do. And i had so much fun reading it that now that's the only thing i want to do during flight: i read Arsène Lupin stories. I read even slower in French and i haven't travelled much by plane so i never finished this book. Which, in this case, feels exciting, to know there's more of his stories waiting for me to read them. At first, what hooked me was how even the reader can't tell which of the characters is Lupin. His descriptions are so vague and yet they fulfill their objtective, because the reader is intrigued, curious to learn more. And Lupin is so confident in his abilities, he lies with such ease and seems to simply have enough knowledge of everything, he's so prepared in every situation, reading people like they're open books and instantly knowing what their reactions are going to be. And Maurice Leblanc makes it fun instead of tiring like Sherlock Holmes can be.

The Inheritance Games Trilogy

I picked the first book in the beginning of winter vacation and could not stop until the end of July. Not because of the romance in the story, witch was lacking in many points, but rather because of the mistery around her genealogy and my curiosity about how the story would end, who would have all that money? Some of the plot twists i really don't care about (like that girl that showed up in the third book). But i really like how some of the relationships and characters were build. Like her relationship dynamic with her Father and their background, it was very pleasant to me. I also enjoyed how Mr. Hawthorn raised his grandkids, but hated how he neglected his daughters. The whole series felt like i was watching a TV show, which i find very nice.

With the Fire on High

I like the vibes in this book. It feels fast and slow at the same time, it feels dramatic and nonchalant. I like how the romance in the story is not the main theme of the book. I like that she was already grown when the book began, how it was kind of the aftermath of something tat happened to her, and still she managed to grow even more, and we follow her through this journey of being her own person despite what happened, even embracing what happened. I think more books should be written this way.

Lord Edgware Dies

I hate Poirot and can't stand him as a detective, person and main Character. That's the reason why i abandoned this book.

House of Salt and Sorrow

I didn't know it was a suspense book. I saw it on tiktok, "marketed" as a retelling of the tale that inspired "Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses". I always loved the movie, so i gave the book a chance too. And i was surprised by it. I really like the worldbuilding in this. Maybe, in hindsight, that's what made me finish the book, i considered it more a fantasy book than suspense (but it's both). A sea kingdom in a world with its own pantheon of gods, it was really well made and executed. The romance is also very intriguing, since it's interwined with the suspense part to the point of you questioning what exactly you do know for sure and what is a lie.

The Love Hypothesis

This was lovely. The romance is super well written and involving and fulfilling. It was funny. It showed some hard truths about the academic wold too. And it has a happy ending. The rhythm is nice too.

Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

I read this for Halloween. I was excited to read it but i didn't know the story and thought it was a case of multiple personalities. It shocked me that it was actually some sort of magic and science combined. Still, it's a neat tale. A shame it lacked women in it.

Inferno

I used to like Dan Brown works. I felt so intelligent while reading them. Now i see how machist it really is. I tried reading it for the adventure, for the mistery, but it was annoying me so much that i dropped it. Honestly, i tried and i don't know if i'm going back to it. I only picked it up because it was ispired by Dante's Inferno and i was very much hyped with Hozier's Unreal Unearth.

Love, Theoretically

Not as nice as Love Hypothesis, in my opinion. But still a fun book. I think it went even deeper on the main character's psychology and the harshness of the academic world. But i didn't like the romance dynamic in it, it seemed like the love interest was simply her dog and not a human with a life and personality of his own (which is funny because he spent he whole book trying to help her to not be a people pleaser anymore). On the other hand, the romantic plot was well made. They misunderstood each other in the beginning but this was unmade by the middle of the story, so it could focus on the construction of their romance itself.

By the Pricking of My Thumbs

And the last book i read in 2023, i finished on the last day of the year. I love Tommy and Tuppence, and this is their fourth book. Actually, that this one was more a Tuppence book than both of them acting together. I like how Christie commentend on how society oversaw elder women as intelligent and capable humans, how they criticized their habits and opinions and made wrong judgments. She used it against the society itself. And that, i felt, was her excuse to put Tuppence on the spotlight, which is amazing. And in the end we got to see that the old couple never lost that romantic spark for each other, the same one we saw on their first case. That was very pleasing.

And that was the end of my 2023 reading journey. I don't know if i have the energy or courage to make this a monthly thing in 2024. Maybe i'll do it every six months or next year, perhaps. I liked writting this, having a place to talk about the stories i read and what i thought about them (my book club didn't survive it's second meeting) . And it was a good english writing practice. So i guess i'll write another one of these as i feel the need for it. Thank you, if you read all this. Take care and see ya!

[wen-kexing-apologist]

I cannot help but be excited for TLoVM. I started watching Critical Role more than halfway through Campaign One. I binged roughly 80 episodes in the month I was home for winter break, because I fell in love with it. I didn't expect how much it would give me.

I've been playing D&D for four years now, and everyone I'm playing with I met through the Critical Role Fan Club page on Facebook. These people are my friends, and we've known each other for four years because of Critical Role. I have my fucking D&D character tattooed on my body because I met some people who all also liked Critical Role.

My sophomore year of undergrad, I went through a fairly traumatizing experience, and as much as I tried to pretend, in the first few months after everything had happened, that I was okay, the truth is I wasn't, and it took me a long time to acknowledge that. My D&D character was what I used to proactively parse through my own emotions. The experiences she had had in her backstory, and the intersection of my own trauma, and my own grief and pain, intersected at the perfect time for me to be able to abstract all of the things I couldn't voice, and couldn't name, and didn't want to be feeling in my own life, into something, someone else. And if I hadn't had Critical Role I would have never had that opportunity.

I remember how a lot of fans reacted to Keyleth, and Marisha especially, I remember that hatred of Marisha was so bad the cast made jokes about it, having a voicemail that gave specific locations for where Marisha hate mail could go. And that has always made me angry because Keyleth is one of the most important characters I have ever had the privilege to observe. I used Kiki as a conduit for the feelings I was having. She was an inspiration/goal for me, someone to look up to, someone to strive to be. Someone who had suffered hardship and was still adamant on doing good for other people. Someone who needed to grow into her confidence.

Before I got to undergrad, I felt pretty confident in myself and my abilities, but that was all obliterated in an instant. College made me feel dumb, made me exhausted, and burnt out, and so unbelievably alone at times. I didn't feel I had the support of a lot of professors, and my perception of the world was that everyone I went to school with was better, smarter, and more talented than I was. I went so quickly, from having faith in myself, to doubting every little thought, every decision that I made. Keyleth started her journey as more timid, and unsure of herself, and to see Kiki grow into a more confident person, a more confident leader; seeing her relationship to Vax unfold. To watch them together, to see how they navigated topics of grief and anger for the lives they could have had, the lives they were going to lose, it was something I desperately needed in order to better understand myself. She got me through a lot, the Voice of the Tempest, and when I finally graduated, I placed the words I Have Passed through Fire on my graduation cap. It's been a minute since then, I'm in graduate school, I love my new university, I am confident in myself and my abilities, I don't often think about the things I needed help to get through anymore, but the admiration, and the appreciation I have doesn't feel like it will fade.

There are plenty of shows that I love, that I dote on, that I obsess over, there are plenty of episodes of things I have watched more times than I can count because I love them and they make me happy. But nothing, nothing, has had a vice grip on me as tight as Campaign One of Critical Role.

I have watched it grow into the company it is now, which is still a little strange and unexpected, but I am so so happy that more people will have the chance to be introduced to the story that has meant so much to me over the last...five-ish years that I have known it. If you decided to read this whole semi-emotional rant, sorry!

To those who have watched everything that CR has ever made, congratulations on finally getting to see some beloved characters on screen, if the internet in the past few days has been any indication, I'm sure you're just as excited at I am.

If you haven't seen Critical Role before and you are just getting to know this world and these characters through The Legend of Vox Machina. WELCOME! We are so excited to have you, and what a wonderful treat it is, to get to experience this story for the very first time.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch- Part 11

The Darkling x Reader

I’m backkkkkkkkk besties 🥰🥰

The rest of the day was spent doused in the work the Darkling had given you earlier, so the time you would have spent otherwise mulling over his plans for the stag had to be pushed out of the way.

You had plenty of time left until the evening's dinner, where you would be formally announced as Deputy General to the Grisha of the Little Palace. You had already signed off on official letters to the camp commanders and First-Army leaders stating your position, but you doubted there would be any fuss from them.

Your own Grisha is who you had to be worried about. They didn't do well with change. Especially not when it came to a mysterious all-powerful Grisha coming and taking control of an army they'd never seen them be a part of before.

Nonetheless, this was happening whether they wanted it or not. Ravka needed to present a united front and adding another person to strengthen said front was essential. All you hoped for was a peaceful transition, no blood-baths. To hell if they whispered or rumored, you could handle that, you've been handling it.

You had a list of ever-changing priorities in your head, and on top of it was always Alina. You cared for your Grisha, no matter how much they hated you or how much you disliked them, and Alina wasn't any exception. You felt a pang of guilt flow through you at the thought of Aleksander using her against her better conscience but you shoved it away quickly. There was nothing you could do but talk to him and question him about the plan.

The plan. The stupid plan. You called it stupid because you didn't know anything about it and against your better judgment, it made you doubt his trust. Was it so bad, so cruel, that he couldn't tell me? Before you came to the Little Palace, you told yourself you wouldn't blindly trust anybody anymore. Aleksander had to be held to that standard too.

Your door was left slightly ajar, you were sick of the knocking at this point so when you heard a feminine voice call out your name you looked up instantly, ready to be hit with more reports.

'Ms.Y/L/N? I have been sent by the General to see if you wish to use any of my help' The red-haired Grisha looked at you with her bright blue eyes. Her white kefta pressed to perfection.

'You must be Genya' You stood up and welcomed her in.

'Sorry about the room, as you can see I don't have a proper desk yet' you laughed and watched her closely as she studied you. 'What do you do exactly? It's been years since I heard of a tailor and I've never had the pleasure to meet one.'

You noticed a look of surprise at your black kefta. If she had any questions, she most certainly didn't feel comfortable asking, he probably told her not to ask.

'I do all sorts of things, change the color of your hair, get rid of pesky scars, anything you don't like about yourself really..... well except your character, there's nothing anyone can do about that' She waved off and sat you down at your vanity, carefully pushing papers to one side.

'So? How about it?' She looked at you through the mirror and you pondered.

'Maybe the eye bags need to go?'

She nodded deeply, 'Definitely' you couldn't help but feel a little offended, but mostly amused.

'What do you propose then, Genya?'

'Hmmm, the eyebags for sure, put some color on your cheeks,-' She combed her hands through your hair and bit the inside of her cheek '-the hair needs something too, perhaps some shine?'

'Perhaps' You mused.

'I shall get to work then' she smiled.

****

After your pampering session with Genya and prying her open (more like soothing her) to talking about life at the Palaces and her life, you came to the conclusion that you would die for her. She was so kind and strong, no wonder she and Alina were always seen together, they were two peas in a pod. Her humor and wittiness, like yours, was refreshing, a breath of fresh air in the stiff and formal palace.

You didn't bother changing. The truth was you were tired already and a full day hadn't even passed of your new job. How did I do this for so many years? But still, you managed to put on your bravest smile and walk in the domed hall with your head held high and your black kefta on a show like a trophy.

Unlike the other time you and Aleksander dined together here, he was already sitting in his chair. Ivan was standing, ready to announce any war news and casualties. You could see Alina looking at you with a confused look on her face, but she still gave you a welcoming smile.

You sat down and cleared your throat in the deafening silence. Ivan began to speak but you heard none of it. Your head too full with thoughts on how this situation could go. You felt Aleksander move his hand to your thigh in a calming manner. You looked over to him and shot him a tight smile, before looking back to Ivan who was sitting down. Here goes nothing.

You stood up with Aleksander. The Grisha in the room couldn't understand what was going on, who was that person, wearing black nonetheless, sitting at the right side of the Darkling, on her own custom chair. The list of anomalies was never-ending.

He spoke first 'Today is a monumental day for the Second-Army, for all Grisha, for Ravka. Y/N Y/L/N has returned to the Little Palace and will be reprising her role of Deputy General, Second in Command of the Second Army.'

Nobody spoke but if looks could kill, I would be halfway into my grave by now.

'Ms. Y/L/N will play an essential part in our fight for freedom and justice. She is an outstanding leader, sometimes even better than I am, for she leads with compassion and understanding for all. She deserves nothing but the utmost respect and loyalty. If you for one second doubt her abilities, you might as well put cuffs around your own wrists, for disrespecting her is disrespect for me. I put my full faith in her.'

He turns to you and sits down, giving you all the attention.

'None of you will remember my reign as Deputy General, but I assure you I know what I am doing. The Little Palace and your lives are of most importance to me. I am here to protect and care for you, yes I will be giving commands, but rest be assured they are in your best interest.'

'I don't represent one order of Grisha, I represent and unite all of you-' You look towards the Etherialki '-I can summon the strongest of gales and light the Palace's fires-'

You turn your head toward the Materialki '-I can bend any metal, bleed fabric of its color-'

Your eyes meet Fedyor's '-I can soothe a heart and crush every bone in a body-'

You stand straighter '- and I can summon the shadows, call the darkness. With me at your side, I will make the Grisha kind loved once again, we will not be hunted or enslaved. Ravka's borders will be peaceful. I am putting my trust into each and every single one of you to help me achieve our utopia'

You sit back down and only then do you notice your shaking hands. You don't dare look up out of fear but a calming hand on your back almost forces you to. And you're glad because almost every Grisha in the room is looking, no, worshipping you. Their eyes glazed over and their mouths open in shock. Even Zoya looked astounded.

He leans in to whisper in your ear 'I'm so proud of you'

*****

You ate amongst the other Grisha that night, feeling a sense of belonging and confidence pulsing through you. It went down way better than you'd expected. Nobody threw a fit or tried your life. And you were happy. The sleep you had that night was the best you'd had in years.

The next morning, and the morning after that, was taken up entirely by work. Aleksander went away and so you were left with the runt of the jobs. But you had made yourself extremely comfortable in his quarters. At first, you only came to make use of the war room, then you sat at his desk to drink your tea and concentrate on work, and ultimately fell asleep in his bed, enclosed by his scent and those forgiving black sheets.

There was so much work to do and only so many hours in the day, and Aleksander decided to make life that much harder by renewing the search for Morozova's stag. You couldn't keep up.

You were waiting on a certain somebody. You had instructed the oprichniki to bring her here right after she was done with Baghra, no later. And so you stood there, inspecting the war table when a gentle knock echoed throughout the room.

'Come in'

'Deputy General' She addressed you with a curt nod.

'Please Alina, call me Y/N' you looked at her from your place at the table, hands resting on the map. She looked slightly uncomfortable but way less scrawny than when you'd first seen her. Her hair was filler and her skin glowed. She looked healthy now. Aleksander must see this too.

'I can see using your powers has affected you in more ways than one.'

'Oh-yes umm.. my appetite's grown so much since I got here it's rather funny' She was growing more comfortable.

'That's completely normal if you're using your powers more often' You smiled and walked around to her. 'I thought we could have a cup of tea or two, and you could tell me all about yourself Alina, and the things that are troubling you. I don't want you to feel like you're all alone in this place.'

'Dep- Y/N I assure you I am most certainly fine. There’s no need t-’

'I was once like you… and I can sense a troubled soul with my eyes closed.'

She stared at you with her defensive walls up, not letting any emotion slip though the cracks behind her eyes.

‘Alina… I mean you no harm. I’m just worried. Isn’t it nice to have someone worry for Alina and not the sun-summoner for a change?’ You cracked a sad smile and walked over to the tea the servants had brought.

‘Sugar?’

Part 12

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities. 

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

[lucenties]

Oooh I see your fav is Joseph and I've been so soft for him lately so I'd like to drop a request! Fic or headcanons, idc, whatever comes to ya! And female or neutral reader, if that matters? Reader has been subject to wearing the training mask, just like Joseph, but is handling it horribly. And Joseph finds them hiding somewhere to stress cry, because they don't want anyone to think they're weak? 🥺 (but now they're double embarrassed cuz their crush caught them crying?)

— training woes

such a cute concept I love it!

battle tendency!joseph x gn!reader

⤷ fluff, slight angst (lack of self confidence)

⤷ 1.2k words

You always knew becoming a hamon master would mean you would have to endure hellish training. Every day you took blow after blow that was thrown at you, putting every single bit of your skill on the table so that Lisa Lisa could finally see that you were ready to go out and battle on your own. It was painful, yet the years worth of bruises and sore muscles were nothing compared to the tightening growing in your chest when Caesar emerged from the oil-slick hellhole, shortly followed by Joseph.

It just wasn’t fair.

You always expected Caesar to finish his trial long before you; he was already growing proficient in his Hamon training upon your arrival on Air Supplena Island. Although you’ve always worked your butt off, it was thanks to his support that Lisa Lisa even considered giving you the training mask. He never turned down your request to be a sparring partner, even if he went easy on you most of the time, and despite his own training, he always gave you pointers on how to improve.

Joseph, however, was a prodigy. In the short time that he spent on the island, he managed to conquer the very pillar that took the lives of many previous hamon users. He never seemed to let anything get him down; even when things didn’t go his way and his sharp tongue got the best of him, his wit and skill managed to get him out of any situation. Conquering the Hell Climb Pillar was only his most recent accomplishment. This was only the beginning. His skill was impressive and he was so cool in your eyes; he was everything you only dreamed of being. 

He confused you. On one side, you couldn’t help but feel intimidated and slightly jealous of his abilities and his knack for quick learning. On the other hand, that same skill and resiliency is what led you to look up to him and strive to become better. Although Caesar was your go-to for help with training, with Loggins and Messina assisting here and there, you couldn't bring yourself to ask Joseph for help. Feeling too weak in comparison, shame always seemed to overcome you and pulled you away from even asking for his help. You not only looked up to him, Joseph had you head over heels and wrapped around his finger without even realizing it. However, the attraction you felt towards him and the fear of disappointing him were too great to allow yourself to get too close to him.

"You have to move faster if you want to gain the upper hand against the Pillar Men, [Y/N]." Despite Lisa Lisa's corrections, the balls of hamon launched your way were only narrowly being avoided, if not crashed into you entirely. 

Stamina training was harsh, especially with the mask latched on your face restricting your air flow. You managed to redirect some of the energy away from yourself in an effort to catch your breath, yet the orbs kept coming, each leaving aches in your body that were sure to be felt tomorrow. 

"You have to push yourself!" your mentor shouted, taking note of the slight improvement in your form. The stinging, wet feeling in your eyes only grew stronger the more her corrections were thrown at you. Despite the pain, you did your best to step out of the way and focused what little energy you had left on dodging the attacks.

"You're doing pretty great, [Y/N]!"

Just like that, the single thread of motivation you were hanging on ripped. Joseph's voice was meant to be encouraging, but the thought of your crush seeing you in such a weak state, not being able to overcome such a simple task, hindered your concentration. A last concentrated bit of hamon rammed against your leg, knocking you over. With a sigh and sympathy in her eyes, Lisa Lisa reached out a hand to help you stand up.

Without even waiting for her dismissal and with a quick mutter of gratitude, you scurried off towards the center of the island and turned the nearest corner. Making sure you were alone, you slid down the wall, the tears finally spilling as you wallow in despair.

You were never going to reach the end of your training. What felt like an eternity spent learning how to channel hamon, practicing how to wield it, and surpassing the stamina techniques was beginning to seem like a waste. It was a waste of Lisa Lisa's time and it was a waste of potential on your part. Now that a new trainee had arrived, far better in every aspect, you began to feel as though there was no point in continuing your trials. Between your blubbering cries muffled in between your legs and the ringing in your ears from exhaustion, you failed to notice the figure closing in on you. 

"There you are. Lisa Lisa was concerned when you ran off like— hey, why are you crying?" Again, Joseph's voice only acted as a trigger for your panic. Your head shot up in surprise and mild disbelief. Every single attempt on your part to avoid him seeing you in such a weak state proved to be not enough. It was almost certain his opinion of you shattered in the instant he looked into your sore, bloodshot eyes.

And yet, he slid down on the wall beside you and laid a hand on your shoulder. 

"You did pretty good back there," he looked away, still keeping his hold on you. It was firm but not tight, a silent assurance. "The way you held yourself against Lisa Lisa was pretty impressive."

"Yeah right." A mix between a scoff and a squeak leaves your throat. Rolling your eyes, you feel the heat in your cheeks rising at the thought of being pitied. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm serious!" This time, Joseph opts for placing your hands in between his and lifting them up towards him. "Even though you weren't able to avoid her attacks, you took each hit like a champ, and there were a lot of hits," he teases. "Lisa Lisa wasn't holding back, either. I saw fire in your eyes that shook me to my core."

At his praise, you finally look up to meet his gaze and you feel a twinkle in your eyes. The heat on your cheeks doubles, and this time it is because you realize this is the closest you've ever been to him. Joseph lets a hand go to reach it up to his head, scratching at it awkwardly. "Don't stare at me like that, it's kinda weird…" he chuckles jokingly.

Wiping away the tears from your face, the tightness in your chest subsides. Joseph stands up and extends an arm to help you up. Without a second thought, you engulf him in a hug that holds all the things you wish you could tell him. His chest rumbles with a hearty laugh and you feel his arms tightly wrap around your smaller frame, offering a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time.

"Thank you." It's muffled in his shirt. You find comfort in his smell, sharp and sweet but not overwhelming.

For now, it'll have to do.

[victorianoruben]

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots