#i was working on my research the whole afternoon and didn't notice this

[astonmartingf]

we have reached a milestone woaaahhh, if i have time we can celebrate a small event

thank you for reading, enjoying, and supporting my works and my account <3

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

　　　　　　　𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N discovers she is pregnant and worries about how her boyfriend, Dean, will react.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, on Wattpad.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, leaning forward over the closed toilet seat as she clenched her hands into fists around the pregnancy test, pulling a puff of air through her nose as if trying to keep herself in reality.

The woman had noticed changes in her body through last weeks, especially in her breasts that seemed larger and more sensitive than normal, which made her wonder if she was close to her period, as this is one of the symptoms of it, but her calendar showed that her period would only come 2 weeks later.

But then the week of her menstrual cycle arrived but there was no drop of blood, the pack of pads Dean had bought the week before was untouched on the counter, and then she began to worry, several possibilities swirling around her mind, but none of them were that one.

Until the day before, during a conversation between herself and Castiel, where the angel blatantly blurted out something he shouldn't have.

"...But that's all I've been able to find so far, Cass. With all the evidence and research, I think we're dealing with a different species of werewolf, but I'd rather read up a little more just to be sure." Y/N informed Castiel, pointing to the open book in front of her on the central wooden table in the bunker room.

"Uhm... Just don't overwork yourself, it won't be good for the baby." The angel responded, getting up from the chair he was sitting next to Y/N and straightening his coat.

The sound of choking echoed through the room, Y/N having choked on air at the older man's response.

"Who?" She asked, looking at him intently.

"The baby." Castiel replied as if it were obvious, his blue eyes widening seconds later. "You didn't know?" He asked slowly, swallowing hard.

"Castiel, what are you not telling me?" Y/N asked, standing up from her chair.

"Wow look at that, Dean is calling me, I have to go." And then the angel disappeared, leaving Y/N alone.

"Hey baby, how are... Y/N? What happened?" Dean entered the room seconds later, interrupting his speech halfway when he saw his girlfriend's frightened and pale face.

"Nothing." She responded quickly, leaving the room with everything behind.

Y/N spent that whole day thinking about what Castiel said, putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and the worst of all, it made sense; her body changed, her mood changed, her desires were strange and her period was late.

The woman managed, later that afternoon, to escape the bunker for a few hours and go to the nearest pharmacy, where she bought four pregnancy tests in the absence of one.

The next day, today, she took advantage of Dean and Sam's departure to investigate more about the current case to take the tests, spending long minutes staring at the closed boxes and wondering if she was ready to know the results.

Finally, working up the courage, she took two of the four tests, leaving the other two closed just in case.

Tension took over her body and she wondered how she would tell Dean if the result was positive, what direction her life would take, her life as a hunter...

Finally, 5 minutes later, she opened her tightly closed eyes, lowering her head and looking at the small screen where the result would be shown.

Pregnant.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

That night, Y/N found herself sitting on the bed in her shared room with Dean, the two tests inside a small box that she had found among the Men of Letters' mess which she held in her hands, her eyes attentive to the closed door, seeming to hold her breath.

The sound of the bunker's entrance door opening and closing seemed to wake her up, Y/N blinked her eyes quickly, shaking her head and sighing, briefly looking at the box, but her attention was taken by the door again as she heard it open.

"Hey honey." Dean smiled big when he saw his girlfriend waiting for him, placing his suitcase on the floor and closing the door, starting to take off the tie that was part of his "costume" during the interviews he did regarding the current case.

"Hi Dean." Y/N replied quietly, a tight smile settling on her features, tilting her face slightly upwards as she saw Dean move closer to kiss her.

"Um, is this for me?" The hunter asked when he saw the box in his girlfriend's hands, bringing his hand closer to take it, stopping in his action when he saw Y/N move the box out of his reach.

"Um." She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath. "Sorry... Dean, yes it's for you, and I want you to understand the seriousness of this... gift. It's very important to us." Y/N informed, finally extending the box towards the taller man, who was looking at her in confusion.

"Wow, are you asking me to marry you?" Dean joked, taking the box gently and sitting next to his girlfriend, pulling on the makeshift navy blue bow and carefully removing the lid.

His hand that was holding the lid stopped in the air, his body tensing in seconds as his mind seemed to stumble on thoughts, green eyes almost popping out.

"Dean?" Y/N called nervously, her hands were shaking and her heart was beating like crazy, fear was settling in her body and questions were running through her head, the last thing she wanted was to lose Dean, but she wouldn't know how to act if he didn't want the baby.

"A-are you... There's a..." Dean stumbled over his words, never before feeling as nervous as he did in that moment. "Are we going to be parents?" He finally asked, putting the lid and box aside and taking the two tests in his hand, alternating his gaze between them and Y/N.

"Yes Dean, I'm pregnant." Y/N responded, smiling in relief when Dean laughed loudly with joy, pulling her into a long kiss full of smiles.

Y/N laughed as Dean laid her on the bed, lowering himself a little over his girlfriend's body and lifting his own shirt that covered half of her smaller body, looking enchanted at his girl's belly, still not completely believing it.

Dean never exactly imagined himself having his own family, having grown up in a completely unstructured one, his biggest fear was that he wouldn't be a good partner, much less a good father. But after he met Y/N and his heart was completely encircled by the woman, all he wanted most was to be with her forever, only seeing her with him when he thought about the future.

He knew that he wanted a family with her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Dean took a deep breath, turning his head to the side, his eyes carefully analyzing Y/N's face, her eyes practically closed and directed towards the ceiling, feeling extremely relaxed with her head lying on the man's shoulder, listening to his heartbeat, and that's how she realized something was wrong, the sound of the heartbeat becoming louder and faster than seconds before.

"Baby? Is everything okay? Your heart..." Y/N raised her head, now more attentive and awake than before, her eyes focusing on his, feeling her own heart heavy with the confusion of emotions installed in the green pool's.

"What if I can't protect him? What if... What if all our enemies-" He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "You will be vulnerable in these 9 months, what if you can't protect yourself like before? What if I'm not with you at all times and something catches you? The demons, Lucifer, even God... We have so many enemies spread across the world, I can't even imagine the danger he would be in just by breathing." Dean spoke as his eyes darted around the room, trying to find something that would make him think rationally.

"Hey, breathe baby." Y/N sat up straight on the bed, bringing her hands to Dean's cheeks and pulling his face so he was looking back at her. "Are you with me?" She asked, following his eyes until he looked back, nodding. "Dean, we won't always be there for him, we will raise our baby for the world and not for ourselves, the last thing I want is to keep him with us, that would be selfish of us. We will protect him throughout his life, and I guarantee you that we will do a great job at that, you know why? Because you are an incredible man and you care, the way you take care of Sam and practically raised him alone says that in itself. Yes, we have many enemies, more than I will ever be able to count, but we will learn together how to deal with this having this new addition in our lives, and I'm sure you'll get it right."

Dean sucked in air through his nose, his eyes filling with tears as a smile spread across his face, approaching and planting a lingering kiss on the lips that he already knew by heart and would never get tired of tasting.

"What would I do without you?" He whispered against Y/N's mouth, feeling her lips move into a smile.

"I don't know, but you would definitely be lost."

And at that moment Dean knew that the two of them would make it work, and in the near future they would have their complete family.

[rose-n-gunses]

okay here we go hellcheer church camp au

(you might have to get creative with this one)

Omg hi I tooootally didn't forget I had this in my inbox 👀🫢

I did have to do a little research on this one because I've never been to a church camp unless you count a one-day confirmation retreat (which I don't) or actually any kind of overnight summer camp! SO:

Eddie has finally gotten arrested for dealing and, because it's technically his first offense (yeah, he's surprised about that too -- the juvie record got expunged and Hopper's been soft on him since), he's sentenced to however many hours of community service. He was able to choose between picking up roadside trash or serving food to all of the camp groups at Camp North Star. He'd much rather play lunch lady than spend the whole summer out in the hot sun, so he picks the camp.

Chrissy is a counselor for the elementary-age campers. She's not a huge fan of the camp; she thinks the morning and evening worship sessions are a little much and they spend way too much time indoors for being in such a beautiful area, but between her mother and Jason (also a counselor) she doesn't have much of a choice. (It's still better than being home all week.)

Jason is immediately antagonistic once he clocks Eddie in the kitchen the first evening. He throws a tantrum to the adult leaders about how they're allowing Satan's demonic influence into their godly refuge. Chrissy is mortified and on her way through the lunch line she apologizes and tells Eddie that Satan was still an angel at one point. He replies that Chrissy is an angel now and forever and gives her extra mac n cheese.

One afternoon while all of the campers are having their free swim time in the lake, Eddie makes a trip out there to drop off a cooler full of drinks. He overhears Jason bitching at Chrissy about how her bathing suit is "immodest" (and if he glances over to see it so what! She's got more skin covered than Jason does, anyway). Chrissy gets upset and tells Jason she's done with him and she doesn't care if God said she's his future wife, God is telling her that she should put her foot up his ass for being a dick and storms off back to her cabin to change.

That night after dinner and evening worship and cleanup Eddie sneaks across the camp to Chrissy's cabin and knocks on the door. She opens it thinking it's going to be Jason but is pleasantly surprised when it's not. He says he heard that she didn't get to swim earlier and asks if she still wants to. She changes back into her swimsuit and leads him by the hand down to the dock, where he'd already set up a lantern and some now-warm beers. He cannonballs in and she dives in after and they splash around for a little bit before he works up the nerve to say that he also heard that she got told off for her "immodest swimwear" but he thinks it's really cute, actually.

BONUS:

Chrissy says she'll be back in two weeks as a camper for her own session and asks if Eddie will be there. He salutes and says he's there all summer or until someone decides that he's done his penance. When she comes back he always gives her extras of her favorites and if anyone notices her missing from every single evening worship session that week, they don't let on 😉

1 AU, 5 facts

[another-lost-mc]

summary: karasu returns to work after taking a vacation to meet you in-person for the first time. mammon, his best friend and self-appointed wingman, wants all the details.

pairing: modern au!karasu x gn!reader

content: sfw-ish (references to vague sexual situations but nothing explicit). discussions about safe sex and suggestive thoughts towards the end. this is mostly banter between mammon and karasu with some very brief insecurity and pining on karasu's part.

word count: 1k

a/n: this is a scene from my modern!au idea where karasu meets streamer!mc online and after lots of mutual pining they finally decide to meet.

“What are you doing in my office?”

Karasu stumbled backwards in surprise when he opened the door to his office and found the dimly lit room occupied. He glared at the uninvited guest who sat in the chair at his computer desk, spinning lazily in slow circles like he had nowhere else to be.

“I was waitin’ for you,” Mammon said matter-of-factly in a tone that was far too chipper for a Monday morning. He was rarely in the building before ten o’clock most mornings–perks of being one of the CEO’s younger brothers, apparently. The fact that he was wide-awake and waiting in Karasu's office before eight a.m. was suspicious.

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t. I nearly dropped my coffee.” Karasu set his messenger bag and drink on the desk and stood beside Mammon, motioning impatiently that he should get up and leave. He sighed when Mammon nestled deeper into the chair and made himself more comfortable instead.

"That's not nice. Maybe I just wanna catch up, huh?" Mammon jutted out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

“I was only off for two days," Karasu reminded him, "and I'm sure both of us have work to do.” He reached for the small stack of messages and documents he had to go through.

“Yeah, yeah, in a bit. Aren’t you gonna tell me about your little vacation?” When Karasu opened his mouth to respond, Mammon quickly added, “And don’t tell me it was just fine,” he drawled, emphasizing the words with air quotes. “You told me that it was fine the first night you were gone and I barely heard from you again until you told me you were boarding the plane home.”

“Well, it was fine,” Karasu insisted, setting his papers aside. He relented when Mammon leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “But if it'll get you out of my office sooner, yes, I had a wonderful time. It was a pleasant change of scenery and the hotel you recommended was very nice." Karasu hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should get away more often. HR keeps pestering me about all the vacation time I need to use up.”

Mammon poked Karasu in the side and snickered when his friend skittered out of reach. “Stop trying to change the subject, will ya? I'm dyin' here. Tell me more about MC.”

Karasu fidgeted under Mammon’s scrutiny and finally looked away from his knowing gaze. It was the whole purpose of that trip, after all: meeting you in-person for the first time and sight-seeing with you in an unfamiliar city across the country. He only planned to be there for only four days. He figured it would be enough time to enjoy your company if things went well but it wasn't presumptuous either. He didn’t want to make you nervous with too many expectations if he was there too long.

“We went shopping, did a little sight-seeing, and we visited some very nice restaurants." Karasu researched some local food options in advance because he knew he was a picky eater. He was surprised that you already had some recommendations in mind for him too. It was only one of many ways you made him feel welcome, like he belonged there with you. There was nothing more unsettling than the feeling of regret while he waited at the airport to board his flight and wished the entire time he didn't have to.

He cleared as his throat grew thick when he remembered the last teary-eyed kiss he shared with you the afternoon before; he hoped Mammon didn't notice.

"It was more than I imagined it would be and honestly, it was…kind of perfect,” Karasu admitted quietly in a wistful tone, but he glared at Mammon who whooped excitedly like it was the best news he ever heard. 

“C’mon, can you blame me? I’m happy that you’re happy. You need to get out more often, y’know, especially if spending time with 'em makes you feel that way.” Mammon scooted the chair closer to Karasu on its squeaky wheels. “Between you and me, did you use any of the you-know-what?” he asked in a mock whisper, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Karasu’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “I still don’t know how you managed to sneak that into my luggage.”

That referred to the travel-size box of condoms Mammon put in Karasu’s bag the morning he dropped him off at the airport.

“Look, I was just tryin’ to be supportive, alright? Didn’t want my boy getting caught unprepared in case things with your little crush went well.” 

“I suppose it was considerate of you, even if it was extremely juvenile. We're not teenagers anymore, even though one of us needs reminding every now and then.” Karasu reached for his drink and glanced at Mammon over the rim of his cup when he lifted it to his lips. “And while I appreciate your concern, please let me take care of my own packing from now on,” he murmured after a sip of black coffee.

He knew his friend meant well, but a travel size box of three measly condoms? Considering his dating history, maybe Mammon considered that wishful thinking. Before meeting you, Karasu might've agreed with him.

But he decided not to tell Mammon how flustered he was on the second morning of his trip when he had to find a pharmacy in the vicinity of the hotel, or the way you laughed when he held up the empty box he tucked away in the corner of his suitcase. He didn't tell Mammon how you laced your hands together in the store and watched while he plucked a box off the shelf and dropped it into the shopping basket, or how you kissed his cheek and teased him that the 10-pack might not be enough. The heat in your eyes made your words feel like a challenge, one he happily accepted, and he was still a little sore in all the best ways from it.

All he knew was that the next time he saw you–and Karasu hoped that would be very soon–he was more than willing to meet all your expectations.

read more: karasu masterlist || obey me masterlist

[nekoannie-chan]

Coincidence

Summary: You and Steve met in a particular way.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Square Filled: 2 “Meet cute”.

Word Count: 380 words.

A/N: This is my entry to @avengersbingo Avengers Bingo Round 4.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Steve was still not comfortable with this time; absolutely everything was so different. He still needed a lot of time to get to grips with his surroundings, and sometimes he needed to be distracted too to avoid feeling overwhelmed. He looked out the window; it was a sunny spring afternoon, and he decided it was a good time to walk the streets of New York. As she crossed a corner, her gaze met yours as you were trying to hold a stack of books while she tried to put a piece of paper in her pocket. Steve rushed to help her, holding up some of the books so you could put her paper away.

“Thank you! “you said with a small smile.

“Gladly,” Steve replied, also smiling. “Do you need help with those books? You look like you've got a whole library with you."

“Well, almost. I'm trying to do some research for a project I'm working on,” you replied.

“What are you working on?“ Steve asked, sounding interested, but deep down he hoped it was something he knew perfectly well.

“You couldn't say much about your work; it wasn't safe to go around bragging that you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and had just returned from a mission,” he said.

Steve arched an eyebrow, intrigued, but one of the things he had learned was that he could find out what he wanted to find out another way.

The two of you started talking about unimportant things; you even exchanged phone numbers, and he walked you to your car to put the books away.

A couple of days later, Steve was strolling through the offices of S.H.I.E.L.D. As he was walking down the corridors, he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw you, frowning in confusion. Why were you there? You were talking to Natasha, animatedly discussing a report they were preparing. Steve waited until Natasha had left before approaching you.

“Hi again!" You greeted him as soon as you saw him, and suddenly it all seemed to make sense.

“Hello,” Steve replied. “I didn't expect to see you here.“

“I don't suppose your real name is Steve Roppers, is it?“

Steve shook his head, smiling sheepishly. He had never expected them to work in the same place.

[funakounasoul]

So! What can be inferred from what little we know from my recent comic? There was definitely more to the story there, and Nomoto's recall of events hinted at its progression, but it was sort of left to interpretation. Sort of.

I had envisioned a whole scenario, but I just don't have the patience to draw out a comic longer than what I made. Heck, I think it was going to be 4 pages long before I got the ideas for the last two pages! So, while you can enjoy it by filling in the blanks yourself, if I may, I would like to take the time here to explain what went through my head while drawing it.

The comic begins the morning after, hence the title. As you probably know, I just never get super explicit in my spicy art. It's not my style and I wholly prefer to focus on the emotional (and sometimes fantastically spiritual) aspect of intimacy. And the way the two ladies react canonically...it definitely seems to me that, if they ever actually do get intimate, it would have to be talked out first. It doesn't feel like something they would fall into immediately. Not naturally, anyway. It is possible either woman brought it up. Kasuga is a safe assumption since she has initiated things before, but Nomoto has gained a physical attraction to Kasuga as of Vol 4, now that the emotional side has been confirmed in her heart. She didn't know what to do, if you recall! It's possible that, over time, she would research the feelings and/or talk it out with Yako for advice. She would eventually learn what those brand new feelings entail. And since events from Chapter 40 went smoothly (trying not to spoil for the upcoming translation), I could see her finally gauging Kasuga's interest in going further via another conversation.

Anyway, let's break down the four panels that were actually from the night before. Yup. These!

The first panel is simple. What I imagined was that Nomoto asked Kasuga about her feelings about getting even more intimate. She would definitely try to do the word-skirting phrases before she just blurts out she wants to enjoy something more...sexual that evening. Kasuga would definitely think it over, and make Nomoto nervous the longer she took, but she would say she was fine that evening. It was a weekend and they weren't planning to go out anywhere those days until afternoon hours, for groceries or something (lol). But...how does a couple...go at it? Taking of clothes is the obvious thing that happens, so they could start there. They take turns taking off articles of clothing - what we see in the panel itself is Nomoto had decided to start with Kasuga's hair tie. Simple but...she admits there's something alluring about her girlfriend's hair being down for this. And besides, it feels good around her fingers. She definitely lingered while pulling off that hair tie. Meanwhile, Kasuga decided to go straight for Nomoto's shirt. She hadn't changed out of her work clothes, so she had the pleasure of experiencing...the button-undoing. Little by little, they each take turns taking something off the other, and as they do, they get to experience something new...the feeling of getting a peek into each other's bodies so close will start to take effect and a flame will light up within them both...

(This is why I inked the way I did and gave it that red-to-golden gradient. We're watching them as they get fired up!)

So they got down to their underwear. Compliments were made, attraction intensifies. They lean in for a kiss. They have kissed many times before at this point, but with this new experience comes a new warmth that washes over them. It feels even more tingly than their previous kisses. In the panel itself, Nomoto is initially moving Kasuga down onto her bed (definitely her bed. Nomoto's is too small). If you notice, her left arm is reaching over Kasuga...actually, it's going around her. You know what she's doing? ...Well she doesn't know, to be honest! Her hand is just kind of moving back there and is going to start fumbling around to remove Kasuga's bra. She wants more. And this is where things start to escalate. Kasuga reacts to Nomoto's actions. She'll reach up to give her a hug but will actually be reaching behind to remove Nomoto's bra as well. They both remove each other's final articles of clothing and start to explore.

It's nothing spectacular, by the way. Hands caress new curves, sometimes they squeeze, many kisses are had...some on the lips, some on skin. But even this simple stuff fires them up. Passionate and musical sighs fill the room and it kind of creates a feedback loop of further exploration. That's when we get to the 3rd and 4th panels. It's all a beautiful sight, something that's only privy to them. Nomoto basically makes a "come hither" motion/expression and Kasuga obliges. Now, I imagined fingering is what happens here, to be honest, but if you imagined oral, that's fine too. But they definitely don't have any toys laying around. Their is their literal first time doing something together, it's going to be basic handsy (or tongue-y) actions. That's what Nomoto gets anyway. I can also see, somewhere along the way, legs may be maneuvered to help Kasuga as well because I imagined they BOTH got satisfied and just...conked out right after due to exhaustion.

And that's how we get the sight we saw the morning after. And why Nomoto really did have a hard time remembering at first. The Fog set in hard for her. She was probably still fighting it as she was initially waking up, to be honest!

Is this related to "Be Selfish in Front of Me," some may ask? No. This is totally an unrelated vision for their First Time. While that fic hinted at their first time early on, it's not the same. That headcanon was a progression of sorts - they undress to their undergarments and cuddle, then, for other nights, they start to explore, bit by bit. More clothing is removed and reaction are learned until they get the hang of it. This one is exploring a more spontaneous event, relatively speaking.

[omnium-gatherums]

if you’re alright with answering, have you ever had an experience with a therapist not understanding you/not getting that you have DID based on the kind of language u use to explain your experiences? I feel very similar to the ways you describe your did, but I’m a bit worried to explain my feelings to a new therapist bc I’m afraid they will misunderstand me since I phrase things like “the me changes/passing the I” and “that WAS me who said that but it was a different version of me”I mean they’re all me but at the same time we’re different and parts of a whole.” “Sometimes I want to use this name and feel this way instead-“ Etc etc. what if they like. mistake it for IFS stuff or something.

Ough this one I feel for you, and I don't reaally have personal experience with exactly how you described this - that's mostly due to me just in general having not really seen therapists much at all throughout my life - but I did very much fear that I wouldn't get a diagnosis because of the ways I describe things and explain my experiences. And I actually did have a therapist who didn't feel that I had DID, and he actually did do work in IFS, so I definitely think that, like.. If you want a DID diagnosis, and you're worried about a therapist not diagnosing you and instead assuming that it's IFS, you can avoid IFS therapists and whatnot. However, I will definitely put it out there that a good therapist who is genuinely knowledgeable on CDDs is not going to think you don't have a CDD based off of those things alone.

I was so afraid of seeking a diagnosis because I was so certain that I'd probably get diagnosed with OSDD or neither of them at all, but a genuinely good therapist who is accurately educated on CDDs is going to be able to pick up on those symptoms, symptoms you probably aren't even aware you have lol.

I think getting a diagnosis is definitely anxiety-inducing and nerve-wracking for several reasons, but just in case this helps: remember that when it comes to a diagnosis of any disorder, they aren't only looking at your self-reported experiences (or at least a Good professional isn't going to only look at your self-reported experiences), but things like your body language and other things that you might not even be aware of. Especially when you have a CDD, it can be really hard to notice if you have any CDD symptoms at all. A good therapist will be able to pick up on the symptoms you don't report, and might not even know that you're experiencing certain symptoms at all. Even if you describe something as "I just felt slightly off", a good therapist is still going to be able to pick up on those CDD symptoms.

It can also help to remember that CDDs are clusters of symptoms that have a HUUUGGEE variety of symptoms and experiences, and sometimes it can be easy to fall into denial because of small things, but a CDD diagnosis isn't looking at one or two things that you experience, there are many CDD symptoms that still add up to that diagnosis.

To explain better what I'm trying to get at, even in DID research, it is frequently stated time and time again that a CDD diagnosis is largely based upon these things:

- A history of traumatic experiences (even if the person doesn't think something was traumatizing, and they're talking about something like it was just a normal Tuesday afternoon, a good therapist will be able to pick up on like if somebody has experienced trauma even if the person doesn't know it yet)

- A history of mental health problems, such as depression, anxiety, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts/attempts, self-harm, etc.

- PTSD/C-PTSD symptoms (which includes things like flashbacks, nightmares, low self-esteem, avoidance of trauma stuff, etc.)

- Indicators of dissociation, such as the classic derealization/depersonalization feelings, but dissociative amnesia as well, not remembering a lot about your life especially early childhood, as well as other dissociative experiences

And then, of course, the identity alteration that comes along with having alters, but overall, those things really are, like. Bigger indications that someone has a CDD, generally speaking.

They're going to take all of your self-reported experiences, as well as any further things they may notice about you/your behaviors/your body language/etc. and they will be able to look at these things altogether as a whole and figure shit out. No matter what words you use to explain your symptoms, if you have a CDD, a good therapist will be able to notice that you have those symptoms. I hope that helps somewhat!

It's also always okay to see other therapists if the first or second or even third ones don't diagnose you and you still feel that you want other opinions.

If you have other questions, I can definitely answer any more :P

[writingformyblorbos]

It's cloudy above (Part 1) [next chapter >]

Steven Grant × gn!Reader (possible Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader in the future) Summary: You spot the cute man from the bus while buying groceries and try talking to him. A strange encounters takes place later on. Word count: 2.2k Warnings: Mugging, canon-typical violence (death, guns, you know the drill), swearing in Spanish, not proof read (taking risks is my speciality not really). a/n: This is my first fic in a loong while, but I wanted desperately to write something for Steven and make a shameless self-insert. I just love him so much. Also, I don't think I'll want to see the word mushroom in a long while. Lastly, I want to apologize in advance if i got the intricacies of London's public transport wrong, I tried to do my best as a foreigner with the most research I could. I hope you enjoy:)!!

It was late in the afternoon on Sunday, and you had gone to your nearest Tesco to stock up on groceries. You were on the vegetable isle, looking for some items from the shopping list on your phone. As you were reading what the next item on your list was, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up, you saw the back of a man with curly hair you swore you could almost recognize. When he turned around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. ‘Could it be? There’s no way,’ you told yourself. But it was. It was him; the cute guy from the bus you had a crush on.

You would see him often on your way to work, always having dark bags under his eyes, adorned by the messy curls in his head. He seemed like the shy type, and the poor man always looked totaled, like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a long while, often falling asleep on the bus; there was even one time he screamed and looked frightened, which was weird, but you figured was because he'd had a nightmare. Who doesn't dream a clown is chasing them every now and again? You didn’t know that much about him, only that he would get off on Trafalgar Square and that he was a person keen on history and other intellectual stuff, judging by the hieroglyphs on his phone case and the kinds of books he would occasionally read on the bus to keep himself awake, poetry and history books of the sort —always wearing his reading glasses, of course— yet your little knowledge of him and his generally disheveled appearance didn't stop his sharp jaw, his curly hair, his beautiful brown eyes, and his intriguing interests from drawing your attention, leading you to develop a crush on him. He was the whole package, after all (smart and handsome).

But one day, he stopped boarding the bus. You figured he'd gotten a day off or he was sick, but days turned into weeks, and eventually, it had been a while since you'd last seen him. Maybe he'd switched jobs or had moved. Either way, he wasn't a part of your life anymore.

Or so you thought, up until today, seeing him going about his errands. You stared at him in disbelief. He still looked as tired as ever, you could even say he looked more tired, like he'd been working out an entire week non-stop. You wanted to ask him so many things, but there was no way you could ask him why he no longer took Bus 24 without sounding like an absolute creep. You contemplated on whether it was better to leave him alone or if you should try talking to him, but this feeling in your gut told you this might be your chance: what if you never saw him again and just lost the opportunity of a lifetime? So, you started brainstorming any kind of small talk you could spark up in the supermarket without it being awkward. Then bingo! He was holding two packets of mushrooms: one was a packet of normal mushrooms, and the other was a packet of sliced mushrooms, and he was looking at them indecisively. You could help him and go from there?

You felt absolutely ridiculous, but you had to. Your conscience would never leave you alone if you didn't. So, you mustered up all the courage you could and made you way towards him. You took a deep breath, trying to stop your hands and legs from shaking, and said:

"If I were you, I'd get the sliced ones."

"Sorry?" he asked, a bit startled by the sudden comment.

"Oh! I just, I would get the sliced mushrooms. They really help you save up time. Unless you have skewers, then you can just..." —you gestured your hands as if you were pricking an imaginary mushroom with your imaginary skewer— "stick it in the mushes and slice them".

He looked at you a bit confused, but you could also see a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.

"That's quite impressive, seems like you know your mushrooms," He chuckled, leaving the normal mushrooms in the bin they were. "I don’t happen to have skewers back at home, so I guess I'll just take the sliced ones, more practical. Thank you"

"No problem," you smiled.

Great, what now? That wasn't the most captivating conversation starter you could bring up. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to try talking to him, 'he probably thinks I'm a weirdo for talking about mushrooms' you told yourself, so you decided to turn around and get back to your business.

"Wait!" You heard from the dark-haired man, "do you happen to take Bus 24 in the mornings?"

No way. There's no way he actually recognized you. Now that you thought about it, what if he thought you were stalking him? I mean, you weren't, but anxiety often leads you to the most extreme trains of thought.

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah, I do," you answered, nervously waiting for him to get angry.

"That's mental! I remember you. You watch videos of cute animals, yeah?" He immediately looked flustered, like he regretted what he'd said, "I mean, not that I eavesdropped on what you were doing on your phone. I only saw it once."

You were relieved he wasn't angry, but also a bit amazed he'd remembered that small detail. He said he didn’t eavesdrop, but that was clearly a lie. Watching cute animals was a must in your daily commute to work though. You could see he was a bit embarrassed by his comment, so you tried to reassure him.

"Oh no, no worries. I once saw you reading a book on Ancient Egypt, right?" he affirmed with his head and seemed to be a little less afflicted, so you tried breaking the ice a bit more. "My name is (y/n). (y/n) (l/n)" you said as you offered your hand for a handshake.

He shook your hand back, with his big, calloused hands, "Steven Grant. The Steven is with a 'v'"

Steven. ‘A pretty name and very fitting,’ you thought. He indeed looked like a Steven.

"It's nice to finally know your name, Steven with a 'v'".

“Likewise, (y/n),” he nodded back, and you both stayed silent for a while, smiling and blushing.

"Well, I'll see you around then. Cheers!" he waved off. There he was, again, slipping through your fingers, like sand on the desert. Come on, had you really gone through embarrassing yourself by talking about mushrooms to just see him walk off? Steven was such a mystery, but one you wanted to know oh so desperately. It was now or never, you had to try to ask him out, or at the very least get his phone number.

"Hey! Uhm..." You called out. Steven turned his head and looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his that made you feel all jittery inside.

"I was wondering if, I know we just formally met, but..." you started fidgeting with the keys in your pocket, trying to get the words to come out of your mouth, "Could we exchange numbers? I would really like to see you again, and I know this place that makes amazing pastries, so maybe... we could go out?"

That was it. You shot your shot. The ball was in his court now. There's nothing else you could've possibly done. It was only up to fate if—

"Yes, I'd love too."

Your eyes probably shot out of your face, similar to a cartoon, because of the way he looked at you, with a tiny bit sweet grin on his face. You were absolutely over the moon. He said yes! You swore you would’ve danced in the middle of the veggie aisle if it wasn’t considered something weird to do.

Still, you managed to stay calm on the outside and exchanged numbers with Steven. Finally, each one went on about their shopping. But on your way home, you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach thinking about the next time you would see handsome Steven Grant again. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long.

By the time you’d finished placing the groceries in their place, the sun had gone down, adorning your windows with London’s city lights.

You were sitting on your couch, scrolling through your social media. One of the hottest topics of the moment was the latest hero-related incident: some people started dropping dead for no reason in Cairo, which would be shocking news if the world didn’t seem like it was on the verge of ending every couple months. Apparently, a cult had been behind the attack, and there were two heroes involved. One was a woman with curly hair and her suit had golden wings, people started calling her the Scarlet Scarab, and there was this other man with moon motifs who seemed to be able to go from a full-on costume with cape to a fancy suit; people hadn’t come up for a name for him, yet. If it was up to you though, you’d call him the Moon Shifter, or something along those lines. You were glad you weren’t in charge of naming superheroes.

Tired of reading about this latest tragedy, you stood up and opened the nearest window to admire the nocturnal landscape, a cold breeze hitting your face; it felt oddly comforting. You glanced around the street. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just the usual noise of cars passing by. You felt as though the city was luring you out of your flat to go on some moonlit adventure around its streets.

You figured you wouldn’t be going on an adventure, but you sure as hell were starving and didn’t feel in the mood to cook, but there was a Chinese restaurant not far from your place you could get some takeout from. Determined to get your dinner, you grabbed your coat, a pair of shoes, your tote bag, and headed out into the windy streets.

As you were walking to the Chinese restaurant, you felt someone was staring at you from a distance. When you were about to turn around, someone on a moped snatched your tote bag from your shoulder and drove off.

“Hey!” You tried chasing the person with your belongings to no avail, they were long gone. Your first thought was to call the police, but your phone was inside your tote, along with your wallet. You scooped your faced and whined in desperation, feeling this empty hole in your chest. You figured your best course of action was continuing your trip to the restaurant and ask if you could borrow the phone to call the police, so you continued making your way to the restaurant in resignation.

CRASH!

There was a loud noise not so far from where you were. Weary of your surroundings due to what had just happened, you cautiously made your way to the noise. You poked your head towards the alley where it came from and, to your surprise, saw the same moped that had just mugged you crashed into a garbage container. The guy was in the floor, pleading for his life, and in front of him was a figure with a white cape who remained silent.

The caped person only took a step forward, retrieved a gun from his waist, directed it to the man, and said in a raspy voice:

“Mejor ruégale al diablo, pedazo de mierda”.

You covered your mouth to stifle the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth when the shot was fired. You felt the urge to throw up as you saw the man lay lifeless on the pavement.

“Ahí está, Jonsu. ¿Necesitas que me ocupe de alguien más hoy?” The man said nonchalantly to the air, as if he hadn’t just killed a man. Silence followed. Was he expecting someone to talk back to him? Then, he growled in desperation, “¿Qué? ¡Pero Harrow está muerto, tú mismo viste que lo maté!”

It seemed he’d gotten a response, but he wasn’t too happy about it. After a few moments of the wind talking to him, he turned around, looking directly at you.

Shit! You hid from him on the outer corner of the alley. You could hear his steps drawing nearer, but you stayed frozen in fear. He was probably going to kill you for what you’d just seen. Then, the footsteps stopped. You slowly opened your eyes and got a full view of the man. It was the superhero from Cairo, only his costume looked slicker, less mummy-like.

“This yours?” he asked with his thick accent, reaching your tote bag towards you. You nodded.

“Be more careful,” he warned as you grabbed your tote bag from his hands.

As soon as you had a hold of your bag, you made a run for it. After all, you’d just gotten mugged and had seen a man get shot, so you definitely weren’t going to stick around to chit-chat with the superhero in front of you. After running for a bit, you made it to the Chinese restaurant. You opened the door and slammed it shut, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” the person at the register asked. You made your way towards them and slumped down in the counter, head burried in your arms.

“Can I get the large combo?”

Another a/n: Tysm for reading! I am going to be working on a follow up to this fic, so look foward to that. I am planning on making this a Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader series , and maybe even add Layla into the mix because, lke I said at the beggining, I live vicariously through the fanfics I write and I am a bisexual disaster who would really like to be in a poly relationship with all of them.

[starsfic]

So, i Love the idea of demon courting rituals including kidnapping at a certain point (I say at a certain point because I like to imagine INTRICATE RITUALS as to not to actually kidnap someone who doesn't want to be napped) so I love the idea of Red just showing up at MKs place and misunderstandings happening, but we sleep on the idea of MK reading up on what the hell Red Son is doing, realizing he's been trying to court him and that he has blown him off in the worst way... And deciding that demon courting him right back is the only way to show that he gets it now and that he very much likes the idea of going on a date with him.

Please picture it, MK awkwardly stumbling trough Red Sons window, who wakes up in confusion "Noodleboy. There better be a good explanation as to why you are in my roo- " "RED SON! I HAVE COME TO VOICE MY INTENT OF STEALING YOU AWAY IN THREE NIGHTS! DO NOT ATTEMPT RESITANCE AS IT WILL BE FERTI- wait no that can't be right, damn writing got smudge-CRAP MY NOTES!" "Waitwaitwait, are you... Attempting COURTSHIP?" "Uh..." "WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME TAKE YOU AWAY THEN?" "Listen! There are some cultural differences here that may have gotten lost in translation and I thought you might have been threatening me." "...ah...." "Sssoooo... I'm just gonna say it, if you're still up for it I am gonna come back in three days and tie you up or get a bag and then we can go back to my place or watch a movie or." "Do it now." "Uh, but there's a whole thing where we have to fight tomorrow and the day after I have to give you a gift and you have to take it and-" "Consider it done. Do it now." Cut to MK carrying Red Son bridal style, with the flimsiest rope they could find in such a short notice binding his wrists together poorly, both of them absolutely giddy that this worked out after all.

Today had been the worst day in Red Son’s life, second only to his father being sealed away.

The Noodle Boy had rejected his courtship.

Red had done everything right! They had fought and Red had demonstrated how strong of a partner he would be. He had gotten him gifts, like that fancy art set he knew Xiaotian had been eyeing for months! He had researched and studied and had gotten to know Xiaotian for the best courtship and now that had gone all out the window.

He groaned into his pillow, which he had spent most of the day crying in. Everything was awful. Nothing was worth it. His mother was probably planning some kind of over-the-top vengeance for him. It didn’t matter.

Even when a window squeaked open and there was a yelp as whoever it was fell in.

Red glanced back and groaned. "Noodle Boy. There better be a good explanation as to why you are in my roo- " 

Qi Xiaotian held up a hand and fished out a stack of index cards. Red sat up, staring at him as he scanned over whatever was on it before clearing his throat. "RED SON! I HAVE COME TO VOICE MY INTENT OF STEALING YOU AWAY IN THREE NIGHTS! DO NOT ATTEMPT RESITANCE AS IT WILL BE FERTI-” He paused. “Wait, no, that can't be right, damn writing got smudge- The-” He dropped the stack and shrieked. “CRAP, MY NOTES!" 

His heart racing, Red pulled the covers off himself. "Wait wait wait, are you... Attempting COURTSHIP?" 

Xiaotian looked up from where he was trying to pick up the cards. "Uh...Yes?" 

"WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ME TAKE YOU AWAY THEN?" Red had been fully prepared and everything! All his preparations had gone to waste this afternoon! And now Xiaotian was here?!

Said Noodle Boy scrambled up, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Listen! There are some cultural differences here that may have gotten lost in translation and I thought you might have been threatening me." 

"...ah...." Now that he thought about it, straight up saying he was kidnapping him to who knows where might’ve not been the smoothest opening.

"Sssoooo... I'm just gonna say it, if you're still up for it, I am gonna come back in three days and tie you up or get a bag and then we can go back to my place or watch a movie or-" 

"Do it now." Red scrambled out of bed and looked around. Ugh, he had gotten rid of the red silk he was going to use on Xiaotian!

Xiaotian blinked as Red passed him and threw open his closet, beginning to shuffle through it. "Uh, but there's a whole thing where we have to fight tomorrow and the day after I have to give you a gift and you have to take it and-" 

There! Red yanked out a thin sash he wore on one of his nicer suits. He threw it at Xiaotian, who fumbled and dropped his cards again but caught the sash. Red held up his wrists. "Consider it done. Do it now."

Soon enough, Xiaotian was dropping out the window to the tuk-tuk, Red secure in his arms. The fire demon’s wrists were poorly tied but it didn’t matter. 

Not when he was grinning like an idiot at his Noodle Boy’s own stupid grin.

[ayazure]

You as a barista !

Genre : genshin geo characs x you, fluff(?)

About : Genshin geo characters buying from your workplace, but they seem to be starstruck by you ✧

Warnings : gn!reader

彡albedo

He's definitely the college student (with a hectic schedule) who's a regular at the cafe.

Y'know the one who usually studies there and grabs a coffee, all that pizzazz.

Since he's a dedicated regular, you know his usual orders. Caramel macchiato ! Though, he orders americano sometimes.

From your knowledge, you'd think that he's there everyday just to study, but in fact he uses that excuse at times, just to see you.

How you work diligently, how you beam a polite smile at customers despite your tiredness. How you swiftly whip up the coffee and drinks. He adores them all<3

He found himself catching feelings for you at one point. Hesitantly, he left a note with his phone number in the table. Alas, you thought it was a scratch and threw it along with the paper cups.

He was wondering why you didn't bother to contact. But he remembered that he was a stranger to you and you sending a message to him was a wishful thinking.

Actually, relationships seems tiring to him. You changed his mind though ! And he wants to try and start one with you ♡.

He's currently taking it slow by striking up conversations with you and visiting the coffee shop often. He's hoping that you'd notice him and his feelings one day.

" Good afternoon y/n, and yes the usual please.. Ah btw I would like to point something out.. With this, I certainly hope that I don't sound weird but your hair looks nice today"

彡yunjin

She's a friend of yours ! The type who would come once in a while to check in on you and support your job.

As for her usual order/s, she indulges in anything tea related, also boba !

While in the cafe, she gives you tons of updates about school and helps you with needed requirements–may it be thesis, research or group activities.

You'd say that it's okay since you know how busy she is recently. Especially that she's a part of her family's opera troupe and also multiple clubs. Regardless, she insists a whole lot.

Since you've been such a dear friend to her (understanding her likes and being appreciative of her talents and culture) she feels that she had the need to help you in any way.

She absolutely adores you ! She finds your diligence and hardworking nature to be the most admirable about you. When she passes by, she cheers you on with all her heart.

"Y/n dear !! Yeah, just finished my dailies at the theater club. Oh yeah, here are photocopied notes for the exams next week. My drink's on the house? Don't you dare, you don't have to pay me back I promise! Well, I guess you can attend my performance at the end of the month, deal?"

彡Itto

Asks for your number the moment he orders for the first time.

No worries though ! He doesn't mean any harm and he certainly isn't a creep. He just blurted it out because he's in awe !

You turned that one down politely and he apologizes for acting rashly.

When he gets the smoothie he orders and settles down, he turns beet red. Of course, his companions would tease him all day about it.

The next day, he would come back. Although hesitantly as he spent 10 minutes debating with himself to go in or not after the catastrophe. He ends up entering and you didn't mind at all since he's a valued customer now.

When there's not much people in the cafe, he won't hesitate to converse with you and talk about silly but funny topics.

"Goodmorning sunshine ! You look good today ! I mean.. uh the coffee shop looks dazzling as always, I mean you too. But anyways, I'll have a peach fruit tea."

This has been in my drafts for quite a while now ^^; That's why I decided to finish it at 2 am... (Again, my motivation only comes at these hours). I'll do a part 2 (w/ Noelle, Ningguang, Gorou and Zhongli) next time<33

[bimboothefool]

A Whole Garden of ḟℓ◎ẘ℮ґ﹩

Content Warning!! WEE WOO WEE WOO!! This contains Mighty getting his arm sewn back on, its really short and is pure fluff.

“Why..?” Mighty asked, his pale blue eyes searched for an answer as he watched you stitch his arm back on. “Simple, I'm writing my friend's wrong. He made you and didn't bat an eye when you needed help the most.” You replied, spitting out the term friend. Almost like he was no longer your friend. He notices he's no longer in that cramped laboratory that used to be his home.

He realizes that he's in a cozy cottage, where the sunlight peeking through provides enough light.

“I see…” He mumbled looking away, even though Mighty knew that he could've easily pummeled you. You didn't seem fazed by it, heck you offered to help him instead of killing him. “I'm also guessing the dismemberment was the villagers’ doing. They're disgustingly judgmental to those who are even slightly different…” You muttered, swimming in your own thoughts.

“...There, all better!” You said wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back on your wrist. “Whoa the stitches look less clunky.” You laughed at Mighty’s observation of your work. “Eh it's not a big deal, I mend clothes from time to time…” Mighty shrugs as he sees you head out the room, he decides to follow you. Unsure of why, but feels compelled to and decides to follow through with it.

~~

You were outside tending to your garden, Mighty decided to lend a helping hand. He'd ask what you're growing and the two of you talked about them throughout the afternoon. Flowers, their meanings and everything else. “Do you mind teaching me more about plants..?” Mighty asked, in a polite tone. “Oh, of course! Just let me know if I'm going too slow or fast, I'll happily repeat myself!” You said, feeling your heart swell up with joy at the idea of someone taking interest in your plants.

Mighty would also make suggestions of what kind of plants he'd want for the garden, from poppies to marigolds. Even plants he wants to try and cook with like rosemary and thyme. It was nice seeing Mighty feel at ease.

He wasn't running for his life or on the defense, he felt like he was loved and wanted. Mighty for a while, knew immediately he wanted to be with you till the end of time. Even before he could put a proper term in place, he started to want more from you. Not anything related to wealth or status, but something more meaningful in the relationship he had with you.

Everytime you'd head out into the village, Mighty would distract himself with various chores and if there were none, he'd read a book or two. If not he'd meditate, the garden was always his favorite spot. He'd always enjoy the scent of fresh flowers and herbs, but as of lately he saw there were no flowers in the vase.

He decided to hit the books by heading back inside your house and do a bit of research, he headed inside and to the little library that was in his room.

Mighty soon notices and sees there's a new book on his shelf. It was a soft moss green book he gently grabs and sees that it's about flowers and their many meanings. You briefly mentioned them, but not too often. “I guess it's their way of saying I can do whatever I will with that information…” Mighty mumbled to himself aloud. He sits at his desk and starts reading the book, he gets to a chapter about bouquets, paying very close attention to it.

“Hmm maybe I'll give (Y/n) a special bouquet for the vase..?” Mighty ponders for a bit and sets his mind on making you a bouquet.

~~

“Mighty, I'm home!” You yelled as you put your basket down. “I'm in the kitchen!” You headed over and saw him arranging a couple of flowers in the vase that sat in the middle of the small wooden table. “Wow these are beautiful…” You were amazed by how they were arranged. It was definitely nice to come home to Mighty. That armadillo never seemed to run out of surprises.

“Red Carnations, Daisies and…Chrysanthemums…” You felt your heart start to race, knowing their meanings. “Mighty… You know what these flowers mean right..?” He shyly nodded. “Of course, (Y/n)! Do you accept me, for what I am and my feelings..?” He quietly asked, with hopeful eyes. “Yes, I accept your love and everything that you are.”

Mighty gently cups your cheeks and gives you a soft, tender kiss. You shyly kiss him back, emotionally feeling sparks go off, he breaks the kiss. Resting his forehead against yours, his eyes look at yours lovingly. “I love you, (Y/n)...” You smiled at him. “I love you too, Mighty…”

[hermannsthumb]

i would literally die for you to do a stardew valley au where newt moves to the farm to escape idk academic life or uprising-esque corporate work and meets herman who’s an astronomy researcher and they have romantic stargazing based heart events

man I have been thinking about this for like two months. I love it so much. full disclosure I have never played stardew valley so i'm approaching this from the perspective of, like, cheesy hallmark romcoms, and what I learned from two of my friends who were very happy to explain the plot to me. sometimes it's fun to just write hermann being like "oh this guy is pathetic I want him"

----------

The interesting thing about Newt's whole mini breakdown-slash-midlife crisis is that it's not even technically a breakdown or a crisis, because he fully saw it coming, and not even in the melodramatic way he anticipated. There were no drastic stylistic choices made pertaining to his hair (no dyeing, no cutting or spiking or shaving into one of those undercuts with the buns) or general overall appearance (no letting a mustache grow out, no new piercings or tattoos), no impulsive purchases (Newt already owns a motorcycle), no wild career shifts (despite Newt's longing to hand in his two-weeks' notice and get the old band back together), no regrettable public displays (Newt didn't go on national television and start talking about aliens), no wild relationship shifts (Newt is, and has been for a long time, tragically single, so there was not even a relationship for him to consider shifting out of). What happened was that one day Newt was standing at the front of a classroom, lecturing on the mating cycles of tree frogs to a bunch of tired-looking freshmen, when he suddenly realized that he didn't care about the mating cycles of tree frogs anymore, and he needed to get out of the classroom—off of the entire campus—immediately, or he might tear his hair out and start screaming or something. He thinks he did a very good job of hiding this from his freshmen, because when he stopped mid-sentence and told his class he was letting them out early, the most he got in return were a few gratefully surprised smiles.

He was called into the department head's office that Thursday. She was a stern-looking woman somewhere in her late sixties, and there was not a day that Newt had seen her that she was not clad in an ironed pantsuit (the coloration of which varied day-to-day) with her hair pulled back into a bun so tight that it made Newt's eyes water. Newt wouldn't call her maternal in the slightest, but when she frowned at Newt across her desk, he was given the distinct impression of being reprimanded by his mother. Well, someone's mother. "Dr. Geiszler," she said. "I heard you weren't in attendance at any of your lectures Tuesday or Wednesday."

"I was feeling...sick," Newt told her.

"I also heard you disappeared halfway through your afternoon lecture on Monday," she said.

"I think it was a stomach bug," Newt said.

"It's been brought to my attention by several students that they overheard you on a local public radio show—" She looked at her notes. "—discussing the existence of alien life, and your numerous theories pertaining to alien abductions, which you seem to consider a threat to you, personally." She looked at her notes again. "Four calls on Monday and twenty between Tuesday and Wednesday. And one thirty minutes ago this morning."

Okay, Newt didn't go on national television to make a spectacle of himself, but he did go on local radio. Big deal. "Um," he said. "I've been feeling a little overworked lately."

"Dr. Geiszler," the department head said, "I think you should consider taking a sabbatical."

If Newt were the suspicious type, he would say that the emergence of a long-lost relative in his life suddenly dying and leaving Newt an extremely quaint bit of farmland in an even quainter little village in the middle of nowhere coinciding directly with that suggestion almost too perfect to be a coincidence. Not to the degree of, like, foul play being involved—because that would be a little too paranoid, even for Newt—but part of him can't help but wonder if the dean of arts and sciences might've just taken one for the team and passed along their own quaint little farm to Newt to help him get the rest he needs far, far out of sight of the university, and definitely out of the range of the local public radio. Newt was their little boy wonder; he supposes that's gotta count for something. But he accepted the offer, which he supposes has gotta count for something too. Newt's a changed man. He's practicing, like, self-care shit. Plus he hasn't taken a vacation in ten years.

"Who's this guy again?" Newt asks his dad on the drive to the airport. "Mom's...brother?"

"Her uncle," his dad corrects. "You met him once, don't you remember? Your first birthday—the Sesame Street one."

"My first birthday," Newt emphasizes.

His dad shrugs. "He sent you more birthday cards than your mother ever did. One every year."

Newt remembers the birthday cards, but he secretly has always been under the impression that his dad sent them to him under a false name so Newt wouldn't feel sad when, inevitably, none of his classmates would show up to his birthday parties. (This was probably because Newt was usually wildly younger than his school peers, and it's difficult to imagine that a bunch of twenty-somethings would've wanted to go roller skating with the weird little teenager in their Human Genetics lecture who used to lisp out know-it-all answers through his braces.) "I guess," Newt says. Still. "You know 13 Ghosts? The movie?"

"Here's your terminal," Newt's dad says cheerfully.

***

When Newt's plane lands, his journey from airport to quaint little farm property isn't really all that quaint: backpack, carry-on, guitar case, and complimentary checked bag in tow, he transfers between at least two buses and a train (and Newt doesn't mean like a subway or Amtrak, either, he means a legit train, like, just chugged up from 1880 train, possibly Newt time travelled to board it train) before he finally comes within five miles of the property, which turns out to be on the very edge of the (quaint, little) town. It also turns out that the edge of town is also where civilization comes to a standstill, no more buses or trains and definitely not Lyfts, which is very unfortunate for someone who has no car and about fifty pounds worth of shit dragging behind him. The reception on his phone is almost nonexistent anyway, so he's not sure he'd be able to hail a ride if he even had that option. His GPS app is still working enough to show him the exact miserable route he'll have to spend the next two hours walking, which—Newt learns as he begins trudging along the side of a dusty, deserted stretch of road—becomes even more miserable real fast when the sky changes from gloomily overcast to unleashing a torrential downpour of rain.

There better be heat or at least a fireplace at this place, or Newt suspects he might freeze to death in the middle of the night. Fucking unbelievable. If the rain soaks through his backpack and ruins his laptop, he's suing someone, possibly the dean of arts and sciences.

A handful of cars have passed Newt so far in the thirty minutes he's been walking, mostly farm-type vehicles—a pick-up truck with a tarp covering hay bales in the back, and another hitched to a trailer Newt thinks is housing horses—but the first to do anything but splash him with mud or slow down just enough for its driver to stare, bewildered, at the little weirdo stomping through puddles, is some sleek, and speedy, little European car that comes to a screeching halt when it rounds the corner and comes upon Newt. And Newt does mean speedy, too. At least twenty miles above the speed limit kinda speedy. Newt assumes the driver was just worried about hitting him with his insane driving, something which Newt was also worried about, so he's pleasantly surprised (and a little relieved) when the car gently pulls up next to him. The window rolls down: a bespeckled and grumpy-looking man around Newt's age and shrouded in a comically large green parka scowls out at him. He looks so unpleasant that Newt's not sure he wants a ride even if the guy's offering. "What on Earth are you doing in the middle of the road?" the man snaps.

He's British, which is kind of weird, very stuffy-prim-proper-tea-and-crumpets English. Probably speeding because he's late for dinner with the Queen or something. "I'm not in the middle of the road," Newt says. "I'm on the side." He has to shout to be heard over the patter of rain on the pavement and the top of the guy's car, which he's sure is making an even better first impression.

"You're still walking in the road," the man says. "Side or not. You ought to be walking in the grass—I can't see a damned thing in this weather, and I very nearly hit you."

Newt bites his tongue before he can say something incredibly rude about how that probably wasn't the only reason he almost hit Newt. "Thanks for the tip, super helpful," he says instead, which is still probably kind of rude. "Is that all?"

The man narrows his eyes at Newt behind his big, round, librarian glasses. He sniffs. "Don't you have an umbrella?" he says.

"Nah, dude," Newt says. "Well, I guess technically yes, but it's kinda buried in my suitcase, and I'm not sure—"

The man hefts out an umbrella from the passenger's seat with a small grunt and practically throws it through the window. Newt drops the handle of his guitar case and lunges to catch it. "Um," he says, "thanks?"

"You look like a bloody drowned rat," the man says.

He rolls the window up and pulls away, leaving Newt gawking after him. A minute later, his car backs up again. The window rolls down. "Oh, get in," he sighs at Newt.

"You know," Newt says, after he's hefted his luggage in the extremely tiny trunk of the car and slipped inside, trying (and failing) very, very hard not to drip too much rain and mud all over the interior, which is so spotless it looks fresh off the lot, "I feel like I should tell you I don't usually do shit like this. Hitchhike or whatever. You could be a serial killer or something." He pulls off his glasses and wipes them off as best as he can on his shirt, which has stayed decently dry under his leather jacket. "What I'm saying is I'm not totally dumb—" He stutters into silence when he slips his glasses back on and gets a proper look at his savior: wide gash of a mouth, prominent cheekbones, a sweatervest that's been out of style for at least four decades, a haircut that screams DIY almost painfully and makes his ears stick out even more than they already do. He's kind of hot, if you're into the whole stern professor thing. Like, you know, Newt is. He suddenly feels annoyingly self-conscious about his bedraggled appearance. What did he call Newt? A drowned rat.

"That I can hardly believe," the guy scoffs. He peels off. Newt clings to the arm rest, just a little. "Wandering the road in weather like this. Where are you even headed?"

"Just—" Newt squeaks. "Just, um, a couple miles up the road. I can tell you when I see the street sign." He hopes, anyway; he can't really make out much beyond his window. Just blurry shapes and things. A huge-ass farm hopefully shouldn't be too hard to miss, but he guesses if anything, he could at least get a ride to somewhere warm and with food. That's a big one, actually, food. Newt's kinda starving. "I'm Newt, by the way," he says. "I'm here because I inherited—"

"I really don't care," the man says.

"Oh," Newt says. "Um. Right."

Another sigh. "Oh, alright. I'm Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. I only say I don't care because the odds of us ever meeting again are extremely unlikely, so it's not use getting to know one another. I don't mean to be rude, of course."

"Uh, yeah," Newt says. "Okay."

He angles one of the air vents towards himself and tries to warm his hands. Hermann reaches out and turns the heat up a notch. "Thanks, man," Newt says. "And thank you so much for the ride, like, seriously, it's freezing out there, and I'm exhausted." Hermann hmps, but he doesn't tell Newt to shut up or anything this time, so Newt decides to press his luck. "I inherited some property kinda out of nowhere from my great-uncle," Newt says. "He has a farm or something around here. Had. Anyway, I'm on—" He clears his throat. "Um, sabbatical for a few—months—indefinitely—and I thought it would be nice to spend it somewhere quiet, far away from the university, you know? Read some books, watch—TV?" Is that what normal, non-high-strung people do on vacation? Watch TV? Sure. "Relax or whatever."

Hermann turns bodily in his seat and sweeps his eyes up Newt, from his muddy docs, to his skinny jeans, to his leather jacket, to his triple-pierced ears and the tattoos poking out of his collar. He raises an eyebrow. "You're a university professor?"

"Yeah, dude," Newt says. "I study—well, I kinda study a lot of things, but mostly I do biology."

Hermann shakes his head. "Here I was thinking your tour bus broke down," he says. "Though that doesn't answer my question about why you were walking in this weather—you really did look quite pathetic, you know. I thought the wind might blow you away."

He smiles at Newt, but it's not entirely kind—a little smug, a little mocking. Newt will take it, even if it makes him look like he bit into a whole lemon. "Because your public transportation here sucks, dude," Newt says. "I didn't really have a choice." His stomach rumbles sadly, and he remembers that the last time he ate something today was the world's most pitiful bag of roasted peanuts on the flight. "Ugh, okay. Forget the stupid farm. Is there a diner or cafe or something around here you could drop me off at? I'm starving."

Hermann hums consideringly, and taps his fingers against his steering wheel. "There is, yes, but it's a bit of a ways ahead. I suppose—" He taps his fingers a little faster. Hermann has kind of big hands. Is that a weird thing to think about someone you just met? Newt's not actively trying to be weird, the big hands thing is just an objective fact. "Well, I suppose you've not exactly settled in, have you? What I mean is it's not as if you've got—groceries, or those sorts of things. My house is only the next turn. You're welcome to stop in and have a coffee, and some dinner."

That's definitely the kind of thing a serial killer would offer, but Newt is honestly so hungry he doesn't even care if he gets serial-killed as long as Hermann lets him have a peanut butter sandwich or something first. Anyway, it might be nice to get to know someone in town, especially someone who is clearly going to be his neighbor—Newt's great-uncle's place can't be more than a minute away from Hermann's. But mostly Newt's just hungry. All of his self-preservation instincts have fled in the face of that. "Holy shit, please, do you mind?" Newt says. "You rock."

"It's no matter," Hermann says, but he sounds pleased, and there's a cute kind of blush creeping up his collar.

Hermann's house is the next turn, and it's a turn that Hermann makes too sharply, sending Newt thudding against the side of the car. Maybe he can walk to his great-uncle's farm from here, because he thinks he would like to never, ever have to be in a car with Hermann again. Weird, albeit kind of charming, company, but should absolutely have his license revoked immediately and forever. Hermann pulls a cane out from the tiny backseat and leans on it with a quiet groan when he exits the car, flipping up the hood of his stupid parka against the rain. "Don't bother with that now," he says as Newt scurries back to the trunk for his suitcases. "I'll give you another lift. Really, Newt, leave it, it's rather chilly and I'd like to be inside."

Hermann's house is more of a farmhouse, really, and it looks like no one's bothered updating anything since it was built over a hundred years ago. Several of the window-shutters, and all of the house numbers, are dangling by a thread, the siding paint is peeling, a depressed-looking pumpkin patch next to the front porch is overgrown with weeds, and the path to the door is marked by mossy stepping stones that Newt almost slips on twice as he and Hermann dash in for cover from the rain. Hermann's door is unlocked, which probably means he isn't hiding any deep dark serial killer secrets, but it does mean he's not very smart about his own safety. "Take off your boots, please, if you don't mind," Hermann says, shedding his heavy parka before Newt has even shut the door all the way against the wind. "I'd rather not have to mop up the mess later. You may hang your coat with mine, if you'd like."

Newt obeys both requests, hanging his leather jacket on a vacant hook next to the parka, and kicking off his filthy docs into a plastic tray tucked below it, before trailing after a satisfied Hermann into his kitchen. The interior of Hermann's (quaint) farmhouse is unsurprising, given the Dr. he dropped earlier: packed bookcases lining the walls, stacks of papers and journals on every available surface (they're scientific journals, which is kind of a pleasant surprise—Newt wonders if they're in the same field), a truly impressive pile of dishes in the kitchen sink that Hermann hastily attempts to hide from view with his back. "Er," he says. "Make yourself...at home, I suppose." His eyes dart back to his dishes. Newt spies at least three teacups. "I'll set a kettle on. Or coffee pot?"

"Tea's fine," Newt says. He moves another dorky sweater folded over the back of kitchen chair and drops into it. It's cluttered in here (very bachelor academic chic, this could be a window into his own apartment back home), but honestly pretty cozy, especially once Hermann lights up a fire in the massive kitchen fireplace. As he stirs a generous amount of sugar into the cup of strong tea Hermann hands him, Hermann busies himself in his fridge.

"I've not much in the way of groceries myself, really," he confesses, poking around one of the shelves. Over his shoulder, Newt can see some wilted produce, a bottle of some fancy German beer, and a carton of skim milk. "I meant to go out for some earlier today. How would you like...toast?"

"Dude," Newt says, "I will eat anything."

Hermann makes them toast with strawberry jam spread on top, another pot of a tea, and readies a plate of apple slices, and Newt devours his helping of everything in a matter of seconds. Hermann picks at his toast, watching Newt, before finally just sliding it across the table to him. "I don't mind," he says. Newt could kiss him. "You say your uncle had a farm?"

"Great-uncle," Newt corrects. He swallows a mouthful of apple. "He died last month, I guess, and apparently he liked me enough to leave it to me. Actually, I don't think it's that far from here? Maybe a street over?"

"Oh," Hermann says. "Of course."

He pushes himself to his feet with his cane and opens the curtains covering a window above the sink: through the haze of rain, Newt can make out another house looming barely a few hundred feet away. "It's not far at all," Hermann says. "I'm afraid we're next-door neighbors. That older fellow who used to live there was your great-uncle? I rather liked him. He was very quiet, it was lovely. I certainly hope you are too."

Newt wonders if he's thinking about the guitar case currently sitting snugly in his backseat. "He sent me a birthday card almost every year," Newt says. "So, like, what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere? You don't really seem like a farmer type." Hermann looks like he would only feel at home in a library.

"Research," Hermann says. "Well, ostensibly. The sky is incredibly clear out here—no light pollution. You can see for miles. So to speak, anyway." He nods his head towards a small screened-in patio off of the kitchen, where—through the glass door—Newt can see more stacks of notebooks, a small chiminea, a chair, and an absolutely massive telescope, aimed up at grey sky through an open screen. "I find it quite relaxing. Peaceful. Often I find myself sitting out there for hours, just watching the stars."

"Do you ever see any UFOs?" Newt says.

Hermann rolls his eyes. "Eat your toast," he says.

Hermann insists on driving Newt the miniscule distance next door once the rain lets up a little and Newt starts to feel bad about overstaying his welcome (and also for eating most of the food Hermann has in his fridge—after the toast and apples and tea, Hermann also dug out some pickles and leftover veggie curry for Newt, and a shared dessert of chocolate cookies that Hermann keeps calling digestives), despite Newt's protests that he can just heft his belongings across their backyards without a problem. "I should think not," Hermann grumbles. "I won't have you stomping about and tearing up the grass and turning everything into mud. Anyway, it's still raining, and we ought to make sure you can even get inside the place first."

The key that Newt's dad passed him that morning fits in the lock of his inherited house without a problem, and he opens the door just enough to slip his suitcases inside before walking back down the driveway to say goodbye to Hermann (who chose to remain in the warmth of his car). Newt's honestly pretty surprised Hermann didn't peel away the moment Newt got the front door opened. He's also pretty surprised that Hermann actually rolls down his window to hear what Newt has to say. "Thanks again for everything, man," Newt says. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it. Like, really."

"Mm," Hermann says.

"I was wondering if, like," Newt flushes a little, "you'd want to see each other again some time? Maybe soon?"

"It would be rather hard not to," Hermann says. "We practically live on top of each other."

"I mean, like," Newt sighs. He used to be better at this kind of stuff. Or maybe Hermann is just missing his signals—or playing coy. Well, as coy as a guy in a sweatervest can play. His eyelashes do look like they could be particularly skilled at fluttering demurely. "We could hang out like we did tonight? But have an actual dinner? Or, like, maybe we could use your telescope together?" He adds, just in case, "Alone? Just the two of us?"

"Hm," Hermann says. The king of monosyllables. He gives Newt another weird, terse smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkle warmly. "I think I should like that."

Newt will take it. "Cool!" he says. "That's—awesome! Goodnight, then, I guess?"

"Goodnight," Hermann says.

From the window of his drafty new bedroom later that night, once the rain has stopped and the sky has cleared completely of clouds, Newt watches Hermann's house lights shut off, and a small glow ignite itself in the darkness of Hermann's screened-in porch. Even to Newt's unaided eye, he can tell Hermann is right—the sky is especially bright here.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Matt helping pregnant Sylvie through her pregnancy HC

Matt has wanted to be a dad for years

It didn't work out with Hallie or Gabby so he was afraid it might never happen

But then, he and Sylvie get together, and get married after dating for a year, and eight months after their wedding day Sylvie greets him home from a construction site with a smile and a positive pregnancy test

He is ECSTATIC

He spends the next weeks until they can announce it on cloud nine (Kelly knows that something is up but just thinks he's getting great sex)

But at the same time... It's also completely panic inducing

Their job is dangerous, and since patients are unpredictable Sylvie's job is arguably more dangerous than his (she's been held at gunpoint far more than he'd like to acknowledge)

So he's on edge every time they're on shift, he's so mind numbingly happy, but he's so, so worried

They responded to a nasty multiple car pile up as a house, Casey had just finished helping free a family from their vehicle when he looked over to where Sylvie was treating the drunk jackass that had started this whole mess, she was trying to give him an IV and get him to stay seated on the gurney, Matt had turned to look at her just in time for this guy to punch her

Matt saw red

Sylvie fell flat on her back and cried out in pain

Matt was so thankful that Severide acted at the same time, so he was able to run straight to Sylvie

'Sylvie are you okay?!'

'I'm fine'

'You got hit hard and fell on your back, you could have a concussion... You could have miscarried! We need to get you to med now!'

Matt was so focused on getting Sylvie into an ambulance that he didn't realize he'd revealed their secret three weeks before they planned

This isn't pointed out to him until after Manning completed Sylvie's ultrasound and told them both she and the baby was just fine, but they were still going to need to wait for her CT results

'Uh... Matt, we should probably talk about what happened at the scene'

'Yes, yes, you're right. I freaked out, and I know that we try to be as professional as possible on the job, but I'm sure that everyone understands-'

'No, Matt, not about that. You revealed my pregnancy to the whole firehouse'

'Ohhhhhhh... Shiiiit. I'm sorry.'

'Dont worry about it. But you get to go tell them we're both alright'

'Fair enough'

So after Sylvie's CT came back clear, Matt took a deep breath and walked into the waiting room where the entire firehouse was waiting

'Sylvie's fine, everyone. Her CT came back clean'

Severide stood up, 'And the baby?'

'The baby's fine, they're both fine'

Cheers erupted, startling the charge nurse

The happy couple received congratulations from everyone they knew for the next week

Sylvie's morning sickness is okay, always happens in the afternoon around 4:15, but other than that she's okay, still Matt has taken to keeping a stash of ginger ale and saltines in his locker, as well as packs of all the cookies and chips that Sylvie craves

He makes all her favourite foods whenever he can

He always asks for extra ultrasound pics at the doctor's office so that he can put one up in his locker

When Sylvie hit her second trimester she started to get a lot of joint and muscle pain

Matt went to great lengths to research every muscle/joint soothing cream or method he could find

He also took a maternity massage class, Sylvie was so surprised when he revealed that to her but was so grateful

Her back starts to hurt towards the beginning of the third trimester so Matt searches for two days and goes to multiple stores to find the highest rated pregnancy pillow

The pillow helps so much, that she does more that sleep with it

She starts bringing it out into the living room, sitting on it, cuddling it

Matt knows it's ridiculous, but he's jealous of a pillow

He tries not to let it get to him, but everyone notices

'Dude, it's a pillow. How could you possibly be jealous of a pillow?'

'Severide. Shut it.'

One day Sylvie sighs, grabs the pillow, and a pair of scissors and tells him to cut up the pillow

'What?'

'Me using this pillow us clearly upsetting you, so, here. Go ahead'

'Sylvie, no, I know how much comfort this pillow brings you, I just... I miss holding you'

'Well, want to cuddle now?'

'Always'

Sylvie's third trimester is a doozy, her morning sickness comes back full force and with a vengeance

It's so bad that she has to be prescribed medication

She'd gone off physical work and to desk work in her second trimester just because of how volatile some of her patients were, but she ended up having to go on maternity leave earlier than expected because of how bad her pregnancy symptoms got

He loves her so much, and as they get closer to the due date he starts to worry because Julie died in delivery, what if the same thing happened to Sylvie?

When Sylvie did finally go into labour (early) Matt was being held hostage by an arsonist

Perfect, right?

Matt is rushed to the hospital by officer Atwater, just in time for the birth

They had a beautiful baby girl who they name Andrea Briana, after Andy and Brian, two of their most beloved friends

She smiles just as bright as her mother and has the same twinkle in her eyes as her father and is the light of both their lives

Their baby girl ends up being their first but not only child, as they take in the Darden boys when Griffin seeks him out

It's a little rough at first, but soon enough Andrea has both boys wrapped around her finger

[elminx]

Calendula Experiments: Calendula Tea

Note: I'm by no means an expert herbalist - please do your own research before consuming herbs. This is my experience learning to work with herbs.

It's Calendula season here in Southern New England and I've been eager to get to know this beautiful flower better.

I first met Calendula in the fields of my CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) farm share. I was immediately enchanted by its bright orange color (they seem to grow exclusively orange flowers) and cheerful appearance. I have been drying and using its petals in my magic to bring in happiness and solar energy for a number of years but I am very interested in its healing and culinary applications.

Calendula (Calendula Officinalis) is often called "Pot Marigold" but should not be confused with the very toxic Marigold that is often associated with Mexican folklore and the dead. It is edible and has a host of powerful benefits to the human body when applied topically or internally. Herbal Academy states that it is vulnerary (assists in promoting healthy healing of tissues), Anti-inflammatory, Hernostatic (staunches bleeding), Topically analgesic (pain-relieving), Astringent, Antiseptic, Diaphoretic (helps to promote sweating), Lymphagogue (support lymphatic health), Cholagogue (bile stimulating), and an Emmenagogue (supports menstrual health).

Last year, I tried to cook with it by adding it to a quiche but didn't notice a lot of perceptible flavors. That might be great if you want the many culinary benefits of Calendula medicine without any added flavor but for me, I like to taste my flowers.

This year, I decided to try a Calendula iced tea recipe that was suggested by a number of different herbalists on Insta. The recipe itself was simple - equal parts hot water and calendula, steep until the tea got cold naturally. I let the tea cool in the later afternoon sunlight on my working kitchen altar to empower it.

Finally, I got to experience its flavor! Calendula is a bitter flower (especially when you include the greens which is where a lot of the medicine is) and quite bracing. The flavor reminds me quite a bit of Genziana, an Italian liquor made with an infusion of gentian root. My partner really enjoyed it as ice tea (especially with a bit of forsythia syrup to sweeten it) but it wasn't tasty enough for me to repeat. At least as a fun and tasty afternoon tea.

Come cold and flu season, I may feel quite differently. I'll dry some whole flower heads just in case.

[lick-me-lennon22]

George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

 

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

 

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

[dudemanauthor]

Yang Provides (Part 1)

Author's Note: This was another story that originally was just a one-shot, except this one I spontaneously decided to add more to. BTW, what is being provided by Yang here is milk. That part stayed consistent throughout this series, but Yang being the provider didn't.

Team RWBY’s dorm room was so quiet you could hear the pages being turned by Ruby, Weiss and Blake and Yang’s fingers tapping on her scroll. On this quiet midweek afternoon, there was nothing but peace and quiet in the room until Blake spoke up from her bunk.

“Is it just me, or is the milk at Beacon kind of sub-par?” she idly asked.

“Thank you!” Ruby exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, almost punching the roof from her top bunk. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

“I’ve noticed that too,” Weiss responded, setting her book down on the desk she was working at. “I even started having my coffee black with how bad it is.”

“Wait a second,” Yang interrupted, finally pulled from her scroll. “Aren’t you rich enough to buy your own milk? Hell, I’m sure your Schnee Money could buy a whole farm.”

“Maybe my father could buy a farm, but I certainly can’t. And while I could buy my own milk, I don’t exactly have a lot of opportunities to go into Vale, let alone to do grocery shopping. That, and any milk that could be mailed here might actually be worse than what we already have,” Weiss answered.

“And I don’t think we can bring a cow to Beacon. I’m not even allowed to have Zwei in here,” Ruby added, with a beeping alarm interrupting her. Ruby checked her scroll, making her eyes open wide with shock. “Oh geez, I gotta go. I was gonna go hang out with Penny. Let’s talk about this later, bye!” she said as she clambered off her bunk and shot out the door. After a moment of silent thought, Yang jumped down from her own bunk.

“Alright, so, what Ruby said gave me a crazy idea. We might not be able to bring a cow to Beacon, but we could… make one,” Yang suggested, garnering raised eyebrows from the monochrome pair.

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Weiss responded slowly, thinking as she spoke.

“It’d be easy. I’d take some stuff to make me lactate and then I’ll provide all we need,” Yang said with full confidence.

“You’re right, that is a crazy idea,” Blake deadpanned.

“That only sounds slight less practical than bringing a cow to Beacon. Also, I doubt you can provide enough for four people,” Weiss added. The pair’s comments gave Yang a momentary pause.

“Well, it was just an idea, can’t say I blame you for not being into it,” Yang replied with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Guess I’ll just have to prove them wrong’, Yang thought as she whipped out her scroll and started doing her research. Before long a pair of private messages from her teammates appeared on her scroll.

Weiss: I apologise for doubting your idea, but I have to admit that I am curious. Let me know if you are still interested. Please do not tell anyone.

Blake: Sorry for saying your idea was crazy, I didn’t want Weiss to think I’m into this idea. Do you still want to try it?

As she read the messages, a devilish grin crept on to her face. ‘This’ll be fun.’

That weekend Yang had her concoction set up and ready to demonstrate for Weiss and Blake. Of course, the two girls were unaware that the other would be joining them, with each of them silently waiting for the other to leave before Yang arrived. That was when Yang strolled on in with a little bottle in hand.

“Alright, ladies, you ready for this?” Yang said, confident as can be. A flurry of emotions hit Weiss and Blake’s faces, primarily panic.

“I-I-I have no idea what you are talking about,” Weiss unconvincingly defended. Blake kept silent, but her face said everything it needed to.

“I dunno, this message you sent me says you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Yang said with an almost insufferably smug smirk. “But don’t worry, nothing from today is gonna leave this room, assuming you two can keep a secret.” Blake responded with an almost frantic nod, while Weiss’s response was more subdued, yet equally in favour. Yang ditched her jacket and sidled on up next to where Blake was sitting on the edge of her bed, beckoning Weiss to join them.

“Do we have to watch? I can’t imagine it being that quick,” Weiss said as she sat down.

“Well, assuming I wasn’t a victim of false advertising, I’m about to prove you wrong,” Yang said, yet to ease off the smug. She opened up the bottle, filled the cap with the neon liquid and downed it in one swift motion. “And now we wait.”

The gasp that escaped Yang’s mouth moments later made it clear that this wasn’t going to be a long wait. Her tube top began to stretch as her breasts grew beneath it. Within moments Yang’s bust had gotten so big that they began to spill out the top of Yang’s top, with the quiet strain on the seams of the top barely audible, but increasingly visible, as small patches of flesh became visible between gaps in the seams. Yang quickly shoved her top down to save it from bursting, revealing a strapless bra that was equally snug, with flesh spilling out everywhere it could. She immediately reached back and undid the clasp of her bra. The tension immediately faded for Yang as her breasts were freed from their restraints, revealing that her nipples had grown larger and firmer, while having turned a darker brown colour.

“Oh, wow, this is way faster than I expected,” Yang breathed.

“I didn’t even know this was possible,” Weiss added.

“It’s incredible,” Blake said with a rapturous tone.

Tension began to build in Yang’s chest again, as her soft chest began to perk up and grow firmer, filling out into a rounder, more taut shape.

“Uh, guys, I think they’re getting full. Did you guys bring anything to… uh…” Yang said, nervousness creeping into her voice.

“I thought you did!” Weiss interrupted in a panic.

“I have an idea,” Blake said, focused and collected as she leant in and latched on to one of Yang’s swollen nipples with her mouth. As Blake began to suckle, Yang felt waves of pleasure and relief emanate from where Blake was attached. Yang couldn’t relax just yet though, as a white bead began to form on her other nipple.

“Hey, Weiss, I know this is a lot to ask, but can you help me out before I start leaking?” Yang asked, almost pleading with Weiss.

“Tell. No one,” Weiss said firmly, eyes locked with Yang’s. She then looked at the free nipple, from which a very small trickle of white liquid had begun. Slowly and reluctantly, Weiss lapped up the trickle before latching on and suckling on Yang’s erect nipple. With both milk-laden breasts being dealt with, Yang gently rolled her head back and let out a long moan of contented pleasure.

“Oh my gods, this feels so gooooood,” Yang gasped as her arms almost instinctively reached around to cradle Blake and Weiss’s heads as they fed from Yang’s bloated breasts.

While Yang wouldn’t fully admit it out loud, there was a warming in her core that was telling her just how incredibly aroused by this she was. She made a mental note to deal with that later and let Blake and Weiss carry on. She kept on letting out shorter, quieter moans and gasps of pleasure as her newly sensitive breasts were suckled and fondled by Blake and Weiss, Blake being the more enthusiastic of the two by far.

After an amount of time that Yang wished could go on forever, Blake detached herself from Yang’s breast, which had finally deflated back to its normal size, something that Yang hadn’t even noticed in her pleasured haze.

“So, how was it?” Yang asked, blushing slightly.

“I… I really don’t know how to describe it, but it was amazing,” Blake said reverentially. As if on cue, Weiss finished her drink too and let Yang’s other breast be free.

“That may be the best milk I’ve drunk in my entire life,” Weiss said, almost sounding confused at the words coming out of her mouth. A beaming smile rose to Yang’s face as she wrapped the pair in a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys enjoyed it,” Yang cheered. “We gotta do this again, except, y’know, better organised.”

“I am in full agreement with you. Maybe you and Ruby will actually be able to drink some of the next batch,” Weiss stated.

“I really, really want more,” Blake said desperately.

“Don’t worry Blakey, there’s a whole lot more where that came from,” Yang answered with a winning smile.