#if youre worried you can also talk to your doc about getting levels checked & then adjust accordingly

[local-magpie]

additional considerations: drink them (in juice, smoothies, or blended soups) and then eat fruit for fiber

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[blackcatwriter]

Late Night Studying (tasm! Peter Parker x f!reader)

a/n: I love fictional men what can I say. I personally imagine this as andrew garfield's peter parker but feel free to imagine him however you want! Also Gwen doesn't die in this universe so no need to worry about that :]

Shout out to @scumscumpooties47 for your editing. Your comments on my google docs always make me cackle.

warnings: just fluff here, set to be in college but no specific age/grade, Peter is set to be taller than you (sorry if you like them shorter)

wc: 936

summary: You decide to study in your dorm lounge and unexpectedly make a new friend.

line divider by @plum98

It has been a long and grueling day for you. Syllabus week was over and now your professors began assigning real work, which, for you, meant endless studying and staring at your computer screen. 

You had been sitting at your desk for what might’ve been four hours now with a blank page pulled up on your google docs. Not only had your professor assigned a five chapter reading, but a reflective ten page paper due by the end of next week. Groaning, you shut your laptop closed. 

Not noticing your surroundings, you hadn’t seen that your roommate was already in bed fast asleep. The only light in the room came from the lamp on your desk. Rubbing your eyes, you looked at your clock and checked the time. 

12:25AM

With a tired sigh, you stood from your desk with your laptop in hand and left the room. You clearly weren’t getting any sleep tonight so no use in bothering your roommate from their sleep. Walking out as quietly as you could, you left to go work in your dorm lounge. Maybe a change of scenery would help with the writer’s block. 

“Damn professor…” You muttered under your breath as you opened the door to the lounge. Catching you off guard, the door came to a halt halfway. “What professor has you up this late already?” A voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Towering over you, a lankish guy stood in front of you. He wore a cheesy mathematics shirt with gray sweats and dripping wet brunette hair. “Just my English class–I’m sorry, are you alright?” You looked him up and down.

“What? Oh! This?” He looked down to the towel in his hand and shrugged. “I took a shower and forgot the keys to my room. My roommate is coming back from a party so I’m just waiting it out here.” He said sheepishly as he sat back down on the sofa.

“You might have bad luck, but great fashion taste.” You grinned, fighting your laughter. After spending most of the day by yourself with just a computer for company, it couldn’t be blamed if you felt a little delirious. Or at least delirious enough to not care if you’re making a fool of yourself to some guy you’ve never talked to.

“You know how to make a guy feel real good about himself.” He narrowed his eyes yet responded in a playful tone. “I’ve seen you passing in the hall before, but I don’t think we’ve ever talked before. I’m Peter.” 

You introduced yourself and continued your lighthearted bantering. Peter, whose full name was Peter Parker, revealed himself to be from Queens and having only an aunt as his family back home. He was majoring in biophysics with a low-level job at the renowned scientific lab, Oscorp.

He did happen to leave out the part where he happened to be New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but you didn't need to know that.

In return, you told him about yourself and what you were hoping to do with your studies after finishing university. “I mean, I’m not sure if I’ll ever do something as impressive as you with your research, but as long as I make some kind of difference in the world, right?” You spoke wearily, yawning as you rubbed your eyes.

“Are you kidding me? You’re gonna change the world with a mind like yours and how hard you work.” He smiled boyishly. Had you been less sleepy, you might’ve seen the slight pink in his cheeks from where he sat. “It’s getting pretty late, you need sleep. I can walk you to your dorm–” He rambled before you cut him off.

“It’s not late. We’ve only been talking for like ten minutes.” You scoffed and checked the time.

1:13AM

“Oh shit, no, no, no! I didn’t even get to do what I came here for!” You groaned, pulling at your hair. “You distracted me, Peter!” Although you tried blaming him you couldn’t fight the smile from spreading on your face.

A door opened from afar causing both of you to turn towards the sound. “That must be my roommate. M’sorry I distracted you.” Peter’s growing smirk contradicted his words. “Let me make it up to you.” He stood to open the door for you as you trudged past him.

“And just how are you going to do that?” Truthfully, you were only walking so slow to keep the conversation going for as long as you could. You’d definitely regret staying up so late especially because you have an early class the next morning, but something about Peter kept you pulled in.

“We can study together in the library tomorrow. I’ll even get us some ice cream afterward. You know, as an apology.” You stopped in front of your door and laughed. “Okay, Peter but I’m serious this time. I need to study.” You eyed him, but to Peter he only found it funny due to your height difference. You weren't intimidating to him at all.

Mostly because you weren't actively trying to kill him like most of the people he encounters during this time of night, but that's besides the point.

“Hey, I’m serious too! You’re not the only one with work to do.” He rolled his eyes. You exchanged numbers with him, bidding him goodnight and going into your dorm. 

You weren’t one for most college boys, especially because most of them held an arrogant attitude to themselves, but Peter felt different. He seemed genuine and you couldn’t help but look forward to "studying" with him.

a/n: may or may not do a part 2 for this, depends on how much motivation i have

[nerdierholler]

Doing an A romance route? Want N or M as a BFF but because the code is broken you keep getting F? Here’s some Book 1 and 2 choices that will get you the BFF of your choice!

Notes:

I could not have done this without the Book 1 and 2 guides made by @wayhavenguide A million thanks for all of their hard work on those. Also for their posts on what is going on with the coding for BFFs in Book 3 in the first place. I’m not a code diver so I would never have figured this out otherwise.

In order to get N as your BFF, they must have more friendship points than everyone else and everyone else’s friendship points must be tied. Increasing M’s friendship will give M as a BFF. Technically there’s more wiggle room with M but I’ll leave other people to go down that rabbit hole if they want. I’ll make a note on one M conversation in book 2 that very easily allows you to switch between N and M as BFFs and you don't have to sound like a jerk about anything in a conversation

A, F, and M should have around 13 total friendship points by the end of book 2 (My math got off somewhere. The number is equal, I'm not just sure what it is). N will have about 20 points. You can cut some N approval dialogue if you want as long as you don't choose an option that increases friendship for someone else.

I made this with my detective in mind but it should be a good enough base for others to check the guides and figure out how to change things to fit their detective’s choices. This is not a service I’m offering. There are probably plenty of other ways to make the math work out correctly, this was just the one that worked best for me.

Major path choices include: Douglas route, did Agency tests, supernatural research, Tina knows, rescue Sanja, Maa-alused treaty with agency. Others will be noted in the guide. Friendship will be at the max level for all of Unit Bravo to start Book 3.

Similar to the formatting of the guides, I won’t by typing every option out in an effort to keep this from being too long. It’s designed to be used in conjunction with the guides for more details. Sharing google docs always seems to allude me so this is just one long post.

In Book 1, some A conversations have both romance and friendship options. It is important not to choose the friendship options so that has been taken into consideration, if you wonder why a seemingly friendly option is noted as an exclusion.

I was able to get the Book 3 opening with N using this. I haven't tried to go further in the book but I see no reason why it shouldn't keep working from there.

Book 1

Chapters 1 and 2 - No friendship points available

Chapter 3: Go talk to Verda Choice 16: “Don’t worry about it” or “Don’t worry, I’m ashamed” (N +1) Choice 17: Thank them for helping to calm situation (N +1) Choice 23: “It was good working with you too” (N +1)

Chapter 4 Choice 4: Glare back (M +1) Go see Kate with A (A +1) Choice 11: Any EXCEPT “I think we could make a good team” Choice 15/16/17: Any EXCEPT “Is that someone’s attempt at modern art” Choice 18/19/20: “Of course. Happy to help” (N +1) Chapter 6 Choice 3: “Let’s get this over with” (M +1) Patrol with A Choice 7: Any EXCEPT “Aw, see? You do like me, really”

Chapter 7 Choice 4: “This is how I look” (M +1) Choice 8: Call A (A +1)

Chapter 8 - None

Chapter 9 Go for drinks with Tina (Douglas Path) Choice 11: “Might be nice to get to know…” (N +1) Get drinks with A (A +1) Choice 14: Any EXCEPT “You get that one, I’ll manage the rest” Chapter 10 Choice 12 (Detective reacted well to Rebecca’s secrets): “I love her too”, “ I don’t blame my mother”, or “It’ll be easier for me” (N +1) Choice 17: Do the tests (+1 friendship for all of UB)

Chapter 11 Visit A Choice 2: Any EXCEPT “Despite our differences, I respect them” Choice 4: Any EXCEPT “...but you are monsters”, “Exactly!”, or “You’re not a monster but your attitude is” Choice 5/6/7/8/9: Asking the vampire questions Skip or choose any answer for: Blood, Stakes, Pheromones, Reflections, and Sparkling. There are no points with any of these Sunlight: Skip question or “Books got a lot wrong” or “Everything is getting more terrifying” Boosted Senses: Skip question or "Don’t read me" Garlic: “Enjoy a Bolognese” (N, A, F +1, these points are required) Crosses and Holy Water: “No cross wielding at Murphy” (+1 all)

Chapter 12 Choice 5/6: “Thanks for worrying” or “If he’s still lurking around” (N +1) Go to Hospital with A and F Choice 10/11: “I don’t mind, just unexpected” (A +1) Choice 11/12: “Knowing even part of his motivation” (A +1)

Chapter 13 Choice 4/5: “How could I not help like you” or “I’ve come to like you” (F +1) Choice 6/7: “Come in” (F +1) Choice 7/8: Any EXCEPT “I’m terrified”, “Angry at the lies”, or “I’d rather not talk” (F +1)

Chapter 14 Choice 1: “I’m grateful”, “Don’t worry”, “Keep buying me food” or “I’ve enjoyed having a team" (N +1)

Chapter 15 - None (Choose A romance)

Chapter 16 Choice 2: “Can’t let you fight them off yourself”, “I’m not leaving you” or “It’s the best plan” (A +1)

No further choices in the game affect friendship points

Book 2

Chapters 1 and 2 - No friendship options

Chapter 3 Choice 2. “I’m very happy to be working with you all again.” (A, N, F +1)

Chapter 4 - None

Chapter 5 Choice 6: “I agree. We don’t have enough information yet” (A, N +1) Choice 7: “I want to protect the people in town”, “I want to make sure everyone is safe”, “I know we can figure this out”, or “Fighting a vampire is one thing” (N+1)

Chapter 6 Choice 2/3/4: “Can you put that out?”, “I’ll get the extinguisher”, “Those things will kill you” or Ignore them (M+1) Choice 3/4/5: Letting UB use the detective's first name or a nickname gets a +1 from everyone

Chapter 7 Choice 6: “Offense completely taken”, “Next time you need a driver” or “None taken” (M +1)

Chapter 8 - None

Chapter 9 Choice 2: Supernatural research (N, F +1) Choice 4: Any EXCEPT “Underestimating anyone…” or Nod in respect (M +1)

Chapter 10 - None

Chapter 11 Choice 1: “I’m with M”, “Maybe some picture books” or “The more you complain” (M +1) Choice 3: “I’m happy to stay”, Roll my eyes, or “You owe me” (F, M +1)

Chapter 12 Choice 3: Choosing options that give M points will result in M being the BFF, otherwise N will be the BFF“Maybe we shouldn’t touch anything”, “Won’t make us wait much longer” or Ignore it (no points, N will be BFF), “Bored?”, “You feeling uneasy?”, or “Enjoying yourself?” (M +1, M will be BFF) Choice 4/5: “Glad we could meet”, “Nice to meet you” (Treaty, Falk, and Sanja +1)

Chapter 13 Choice 1/3: “Nice to have company”, “I still need to work”, or “Prepared to be bored” (F +1) Choice 2/3/4/5/6/7: Help them (F +1) Choice 3/4/5/6/7/8: Any EXCEPT “After the mess, I don’t think so” (F +1)

Chapter 14 Choice 7/8/9/10/11: Meet A’s gaze, frown, and look away (N +1)

Chapter 15 Choice 2: Walk with N Choice 3: Any EXCEPT “They showed their true colors” or “I don’t think much about them” (N +1) Choice 7/8: “No and getting harder”, “Part of the job”, or “Thought it would be easier” (A +1)

Chapter 16 Choice 6/7: Rescue Sanja (M +1) Choice 7/8: Any option that returns F’s high five (F +1)

Chapter 17 Choice 2/3/4/5: “This has turned complicated” or “Are you worried” (A +1) Choice 3/4/5/6: “It’s been a challenge”, “I suppose I have no choice”, or “Of course. I’m prepared” (A +1)

Chapter 18 (assumes Maa-alused Treaty) Choice 1: “Wanted to end in the best way” (A, N +1)

No further choices in the game affect friendship points

[normansnt]

Rest (Comfortable pt.2) Kenpachi Zaraki x male!Dr!reader

(You can read this even if you didn't read pt.1)

Warning: mention of stitches and bandages but nor very detailed just mentioned otherwise its fluff🐥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kenpachi woke up in his room. His mouth was dry and he could feel his whole chest being bandaged. He wanted to sit up but a voice stopped him. "Kenpachi Zaraki don't you dare"

Kenpachi chuckled, he knew exactly who that voice. "How lovely to hear your voice again Y/N" said Kenpachi sounding sarcastic because of the doctors cold voice but actually meaning it.

Y/N chuckled "I have tended to you enough times to know that you cannot lay in a bad for a long time letting your wounds heal" said the man smiling slightly. "Well then why did you stop me?" Asked Kenpachi still laying with a small smile on his face. "Kenpachi these wounds are bigger then the ones you get while fighting your squad members you need time to heal, at least try laying in bed for one day even that is not enough but knowing you even that would be a miracle" said Y/N now more serious. "Do I hear worry in your voice doc?" asked Kenpachi smirking. He might act playful but inside he was melting.

The fact that Y/N was worried for him felt amazing, not only because no one has ever done that but also because Y/N was someone very important to him. "Yes, well, you were quite close to dying the kid you fought was pretty good, not to mention I never saw you this thrilled before you truly enjoyed yourself" smiled Y/N.

Kenpachi thought about this. It was true that he had a lot of fun fighting Ichigo, finally finding someone on his level was exhilarating but he couldn't help but wonder why it was not as exciting as he thought it would be.

He thought he would be much more happy, crazy and what not but... it wasn't as intense as he thought.

He looked at Y/N who was preparing things for his check up. He stared for a bit, and then it downed on him.

It was not as exciting as he thought it would be because battle was not the only thing he looked forward to anymore.

He also couldn't wait to end the battle and talk to Y/N about it. To see him smile at him again, hear his laugh, see the way Y/Ns eyes light up when he sees him. That is... absolutely horrifying to Kenpachi. He lived his whole life for battle and the excitement it gave him that made him happy. Now, though, someone came along who gave him happiness outside of battle.

"Pachi? Are you ok you have been staring at me for a long time now" said Y/N confused. Kenpachi didn't answer just opened his mouth like he was going to but nothing came out.

"Ok, listen I'll do my check up now and I really hope after I leave this room you will listen to my advice and stay in bed" said the h/c haired male in a slightly scolding tone. Kenpachi loved that. Y/N was scolding him because he doesn't care about his own safety enough.

When Y/N started to slowly help him sit up so he could put fresh bandages on him Kenpachis eyes did not leave the doctors face for one second. "Wow your stitches are healing nicely I guess being knocked out is very helpful" smiled the doctor.

Kenpachi still didn't say another word he was trying to understand how Y/N managed to heal his battle scarred heart and make him love something else outside of battle and Yachiru. "All right Im all done here I know its not your strong suit but could you PLEASE try to rest as much as possible and--" when Y/N wanted to finish his sentence and to start pulling away Kanpechi grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving. "Pachi...?"

With one fast movement he pulled Y/N towards him so their lips collided. Y/N was shocked to say the least.

Kenpachi taking the first move was something he did not expect, not to mention this soon.Y/N kissed back without hesitation cupping his cheek and seating himself in Pachis lap cautiously not to pull his stitches. Kenpachis lips were dry and cracked but they were warm and welcoming non the less Y/N smiled into the kiss. He couldn't belive he is kissing The Kenpachi Zaraki the feared captain of squad 11.

Kenpachi was in cloud 9 or heaven or whatever they call it, he was jut feeling very very warm and nice inside. Y/Ns lips were everything he thought them to be, soft, warm and they tasted like coffee which the dr had every morning.

"Arghh... fuck" Kenpachi groaned after they parted because his movements were to quick when pulling Y/N to his lap and his scars hurt now. "Damn it Kenpachi as great as this was you shouldn't have hurt yourself" Y/N tried scolding him but he couldn't hide his smile. "Worth it" groned Kenpachi while smirking at Y/N "Yeah yeah whatever we can repeat that when you have gotten the necessary amount of rest you need" said Y/N while laying him down carefully and kissing his cheek.

"I will make sure to get lots of rest then" said Kenpachi with a big smile. "You better" said Y/N then laughed and headed for the door "I will be back to check on you later I have other patients to attend to as well" and with flashing one last smile to the Captain he left. Kenpachi closed his eyes with Y/Ns image on his mind, and perhaps with some thoughts about finding Ichigo and fighting him again, even if he fell in love he is still him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TADA🦖

I know its not that long bit its short and sweet and I like it🤓

You guys liked my Usopp fanfic more but eh Im currently obsessed w Kenpachi and I love how this turned out sooo🦦

I am thankful for the love my Usopp fic has received though, don't worry I will write more One Piece ofc but Im watching bleach most of the time now so I get more ideas for that😗🤍

Well ladies, gentlemen and others I hope you enjoyed your reading, have a good afternoon, good evening, and good night🧡

[aleksa-sims]

RL Story

CW: panic attack, disease

Sandra’s last chapter started... 🌼😞

The next day I went to Sandra to pick up Liam. S. was the middle of moving. She asked me to take care of her little one. Before I went to her, I was in the hospital. My doc called me. He wanted to examine me again. It was about my blood levels. My leukocytes were elevated and since I was pregnant, he was a bit worried.

Though this was nothing new to me (my elevated Leukos), I was still scared as hell, when I got the call from the hospital. I was so terrified, that I got a panic attack.

Sandra: Did you have enough money for the cab? Why didn’t you call your parents to get you, or Daniel?

Me: Daniel has an appointment. I called my Mom. But it would have taken too long to wait for her. She was on the phone with me during the whole ride to distract me. She was so worried, it made me even more nervous, so I called you. And of course I had money with me.

Sandra: Now you're here & safe. You don’t have to be afraid, A.! Everything will be fine! Just continue to take those deep breaths..... Come, lay down on the couch.

Me: ..... Sorry S., but now I just don't want to be hugged. Pls don’t stress me!!

Sandra: Okay, I leave you alone. I won’t touch you, A... Try to relax.

Me: Thanks S.... Tell me something. What’s Liam doing?

Sandra: He’s asleep, but he’ll wake up soon. Yk, if this gets too much for you today with Liam, I can ask my Mom, or I take him with me? I just thought it would be good for you and Daniel to spend a day alone with Liam. Kind of.... a test.

Me: Daniel is good with Babies. Liam loves him. But you’re right! Now that I’m pregnant.... Let’s see, if Daniel even wants to take care of a Baby with me.

Sandra: I trust Daniel and you anyway. Is everything ok with you two? He seemed so quiet the other day.

Me: I slept with him last night. But.... agh, Idk? He's been so cold to me, this morning. Anyway, I don't wanna talk about it.

Sandra: Okay then.... tell me how your check up was? Why do you worry sm?

Me: Same damn issue as always.... My doc wanted to examine me more closely. He did an ultrasound to see if any white blood cells had accumulated in my organs. They’ll call me as soon as they get the results. But my Baby's fine. He told me not to worry.

Sandra: I know you’re terrified of being seriously ill. But you’re fine, A.! Your Baby is fine too, you just have to do something about your panic attacks. Did you take your pills?

Me: Yes! But I know why I got a panic attack. I’ve been thinking too much about the shit Irma told me six months ago. Daniel saw her. And just this morning, I also got that call from my doc. Right after D. told me about Irma that weirdo. You know?

As Sandra and I kept talking, the doorbell rang. Sandra told me she met a nice guy. He was her new neighbor. They met in that building/house, where her new apartment was. She liked him. He offered to help Sandra with the move, so he came by today.

While Sandra opened the door to her new neighbor, I walked over to Liam’s nursery. The little one woke up, but was still a bit tired. I stroked his head and smiled at him. As soon as Liam noticed me, he stretched out his arms, to take him out of his crib. So cute. Together we went back to the living room, where I put Liam in his high chair. At that moment Sandra’s new neighbor entered her apartment.

As I turned around, I saw a tall, young man standing in front of Sandra. While I was waiting for S. to introduce me to him, I noticed how she looked at him.  It was obvious, Sandra had a crush on that guy. Hm?... Ok, I got it! S. wanted to be alone with him. That’s why she needed me as a babysitter.

All right, then it's time for me to call Daniel to pick me & Liam up. I texted him. He’ll be there in a few minutes, but before Liam & I left, Sandra of course introduced me to her new... friend?

Sandra: That’s the...... nice guy, I told you about. Dario. He helps me with wallpapering and building up some furniture.

Me: Hey, D.! I'm Aleksa. Nice to meet you.

Dario: Hi!

Me: Um, well! You two are busy today. Can you please pack Liam’s things, S.? Daniel's already down there waiting for us.

Sandra: It's all done. I just have to get his sleeping bag. But we’ll help you carry his stuff in the car.

Me: C'mon sweetie! Uncle Danny’s waiting for you.

I didn’t talk much to Sandra’s new friend that day. From the first impression he seemed okay, but.....no! This guy’s gonna be S.’s worst nightmare, her..... end.😞 Some of you know what I’m talking about. Anyway, rn I don’t want to say more about him. At first everything seemed perfect. They were both in love and happy with each other, for almost 2 years. But unfortunately this guy was..... a psycho. 😔😢

And Daniel, he didn’t know Liam was gonna stay with us. But somehow D. knew, that I wanted to.... test him, to see if he could take care of a Baby with me. Well, let's see... 😬

Previous/Next

[3584-tropical-fish]

It’s become a bit of a trend of mine to write epistolary novel style fics that require tons of research for really mundane things. So, I’ve found myself with one regarding Ms. Perumal trying to find her kid, featuring phone calls varying in their level of helpfulness, anagrams, and a brochure about fishing locales.

Also written under the cut if a Google doc is not ideal.

Letter, addressed to Reynie Muldoon, Boatwright Academy, 100 Copernicus Road, ST0087

Dear Reynie,

Congratulations on your acceptance to Boatwright! I’m so proud of you, and I always will be. I sent a package with some of your belongings and a couple gifts from me, but do let me know if there’s anything I missed. And, of course, you are always welcome to reach out if you ever need me. You know where to find me.

I know this is a big change for you, but I also know that everything will turn out perfectly fine. You can do this! You’ll learn a lot more from the Boatwright Academy than what I could ever teach you, and I know that this will be a great opportunity for you. Though, as I’ve said, I’ll be here if you ever need me.

Much love,

Ms. Perumal

Phone call, Ms. Dipika Perumal and Boatwright Academy Offices

MAN: Boatwright Academy, how can I help you?

MS. PERUMAL: Good afternoon. I recently sent a package to Reynard Muldoon, a new student at your school? It just arrived back at my house, and I wanted to make sure that he was alright.

MAN: Things don’t just get sent back, maybe there was a mistake in the address you wrote. Nothing to worry about.

MS. PERUMAL: I’ve double checked it multiple times, I am certain that I haven’t made any errors.

MAN: Well, if there wasn’t a mistake, I’m afraid I can’t help you any more. We–

MS. PERUMAL: You’re the only ones that can! I cannot reach out to him any other way.

MAN: (sighing) What was the name? I’ll see what I can find but I can’t guarantee–

MS. PERUMAL: (frustrated) Muldoon. M-U-L-D-O-O-N. Reynard Muldoon.

MAN: Ma’am, I’m sorry, but–

MS. PERUMAL: This is the Boatwright Academy, isn’t it?

MAN: It is, but our policy states that we are not allowed to disclose any information about our students to non-family members.

MS. PERUMAL: (increasingly firm) Be that as it may, I sent a package to one of your students. Why was it returned?

MAN: I have no idea.

MS. PERUMAL: He is a student there, is he not?

MAN: Ma’am, there’s no Reynard Muldoon enrolled here.

MS. PERUMAL: There must be a mistake. Tell your headmaster that I’m on my way to talk to her in person.

(call ends)

Security Feed, Boatwright Academy Headmaster’s Office

(The HEADMASTER sits at her desk, typing something on a computer. After a moment, there is a knock at the door.)

HEADMASTER: Come in.

(MS. PERUMAL enters and sits in the chair across from the HEADMASTER.)

HEADMASTER: (curtly) Ms. Perumal?

MS. PERUMAL: (just as curtly) Yes.

HEADMASTER: You are lucky that I agreed to see you, Ms. Perumal. You have no affiliation with anyone at this school, but we deemed it more beneficial to everyone involved if we prevented you from… (pause) breaking in.

(The HEADMASTER shifts to fully face MS. PERUMAL and places a paper in front of her.)

HEADMASTER: A class roster, M section, of course. You’ll notice there is no “Muldoon”.

(MS. PERUMAL picks up the paper and skims through it. She frowns.)

MS. PERUMAL: He would’ve been admitted just a few days ago, are you certain this is up to date?

HEADMASTER: (sighing) Yes. I printed it just this morning. Our records are updated upon any student’s admission. Reynard Muldoon is not a student here.

(MS. PERUMAL rifles through her bag and pulls out her own paper. It is a newspaper from a week or so prior. She places it on the table.)

MS. PERUMAL: What’s this then? (reading aloud) “Are you a gifted child looking for special opportunities? Boatwright Academy is offering gifted children a chance to participate in a special testing day. Children who pass the test will be offered a full scholarship to Boatwright Academy”. My student attended these exams, and, following their conclusion, I received a call that he had been admitted into the Boatwright Academy. (with force) Why is he not here?

(The HEADMASTER frowns.)

HEADMASTER: Those tests are run by an affiliate of ours. They informed us that no one had passed the tests this year.

(MS. PERUMAL looks stricken.)

HEADMASTER: Is there anything else?

(Silence)

MS. PERUMAL: No, I— no. (She clears her throat.) You’ve helped me enough. (MS. PERUMAL stands.) Thank you for your time.

HEADMASTER: Of course. I hope everything turns out well.

(MS. PERUMAL nods, turns, and exits the room.)

(feed ends)

Phone call, Ms. Dipika Perumal and The Stonetown Gazette Offices

CAROLINE: You’ve reached The Stonetown Gazette, my name is Caroline. What can I help you with today?

MS. PERUMAL: I’m looking for the name of the person or organization who ran the ad that offered scholarship opportunities for the Boatwright Academy. They did not include clear contact information and I’d like to get in touch.

CAROLINE: I’ll see what I can find, ma’am. What did the ad say, exactly?

MS. PERUMAL: In large font, “Are you a gifted child looking for special opportunities?” It was quite unique.

CAROLINE: Ah, yes. I remember that one. Quite unique, indeed. Excuse me for a moment while I look for this, I’m going to put you on hold.

(soft piano music)

(several moments pass)

CAROLINE: Unfortunately, I only have a name, no further contact information, though I’m sure you could reach out to the Boatwright Academy for further details. It was paid for by Cheri Turpintown. Spelled C-H-E-R-I, T-U-R-P-I-N-T-O-W-N. Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?

MS. PERUMAL: Oh, no. That’s all I needed. Thank you very much.

CAROLINE: Of course! Have a nice day, now.

MS. PERUMAL: And you too.

(call ends)

Stonetown Registrar, List of Local Business Owners

CHERI TURPINTOWN

Affiliation: Boatwright Academy

Phone: None

Address: None

Journal, Owned by Ms. Dipika Perumal

Cheri Turpintown

Placed the ad

No known address

Connections to Boatwright

Possibly the test proctor

cheriturpintown

cehiinnoprttuw

port

ton

in

truth in ceinoprw

prow cein ice

power cin inc

truth in power inc

Power in Truth Inc.

Stowntown Registrar, List of Local Businesses (Shell Companies)

POWER IN TRUTH, INC.

Owner: Withheld by request

Phone: None

Address: None

PO Box: Power in Truth, Inc.

PO Box 2733

Stonetown, USA 02748

Security Feed, Stonetown Market (Video Only)

(MS. PERUMAL approaches a storefront. This store belongs to the FISHMONGER.)

(The FISHMONGER greets her and asks a question. MS. PERUMAL shakes her head and asks something in return. She speaks for a moment, making some gestures with her hands, and eventually points toward the salmon displayed behind the FISHMONGER.)

(The FISHMONGER frowns and shakes his head.)

(MS. PERUMAL says something more, and swiftly walks away and out of sight.)

Brochure, Stonetown Fish and Game Commission: Fishing Locations

There are a multitude of picturesque locations in and around Stonetown that are perfect for fishing. The waters off the coast are known for their catches of mackerel, sea bass, Atlantic cod, and plenty of other species. Beginners can find many coastal areas or freshwater ponds and rivers in the area, while more seasoned fishers can try their hand at sites off the coast.

Due to the importance of fishing on the local economy, fishing licenses are required in almost all shorelines and waters off the coast of Stonetown. Licenses can easily be acquired from the Stonetown Fish and Game Commission offices, but caution should still be taken to not fish in dangerous areas or private property.

Should one wish to spend a weekend casually fishing without a license, the Beauchamps Woods, central to one of Stonetown’s many public parks, is home to a two-mile stretch of shoreline where unlicensed fishing is permitted. For convenience, multiple trails lead to various spots in the area.

[image: A map of a section of Stonetown’s coast, which is surrounded by Beauchamps Woods. Multiple trails are marked in colorful lines throughout the area, most leading to various spots along the water. Across the water, on the edge of the map, one side of Harbor Island is pictured. Boxed in red, centered on the map, is a section of coast that is labeled “UNLICENSED FISHING AREA”.

This particular brochure copy has multiple trail ends crossed out but one, which seems to have a good view of Harbor Island, is circled in several frantic rings.]

[lorellaishc]

Not So Little White Lies

((Daily Writing Challenge May 2023, Day 6, Gleaming/Hurt, @daily-writing-challenge, CW: Blood, severe injury, shock ))

With one final bomb in their direction, Lorellai sent the rest of the gnolls fleeing deep into the woods, ensuring the safety of the caravan for the night. They'd expected some trouble getting up the road towards the trading post in the plains, but the force of the gnoll raid had been something else.

Dozens of the decay-addled troublemakers lay dead thanks to Lorellai and the other fighters, but several of their own had taken nasty hits. Lorellai could only close her eyes and whisper a prayer as she saw two of their own, Utunk of Iskaara, and Boruk from Durotar, were wrapped up, heads covered, and prepared for burial once the caravan reached a safe campsite.

"Be sad later, Truthhammer, you gotta check the perimeter," she admonished, taking up her spear and heading towards the back of the wagon train, looking for any lingering trouble. A shadow fell over her as she rounded the corner, and she looked up into the faintly glowing eyes of Ghorren, and blinked as she took him in.

"Ah, Lorellai, good to see you in one piece. I wouldn't want to be the one to tell your family you got hurt while on my team." Ghorren craned his neck, to look out into the forest. "The rear flank is clear, we got one of their casters and the rest of them broke and ran after that. We should be clear until we reach camp and fortify.... why are you staring at me like that?"

Lorellai couldn't find the words, so she just pointed at the spear handle sticking out of Ghorren's right pec, having punched right through his armor. It had been wiggling as he spoke. The troll looked down, and then rolled his eyes.

"Ah, that explains a few things. Please let the healer know I'll need to be tended too before too long, I'm going to sit down I think." Ghorren calmly climbed into the back of the nearby wagon, and gave the handle an experimental poke, wincing as he moved it. "Going to give that armorsmith a talking too when I get back to Valdrakken."

"Uh... Mister Ghorren, are yeh sure yeh don't need immediate attention?" Lorellai said, digging through her pouches. She had to have -something- left over in her potions...

"It's just a little shock, I'll be fine. The grinning bastard missed the important bits, and I can grow back the rest with a bit of rest and a few good meals. When the healer makes it back here, we can see about getting it out," Ghorren explained, keeping his voice level and offering the dwarf a smile.

Later that evening, the wagons were circled at the campsite near the bridge in the wide clearing, likely the safest place in the span short of Iskaara. Lorellai rapped her knuckles on one of the wagons, and then climbed in when Ghorren bade her enter. He was lying down, heavily bandaged. "Doc, uh, Doc said you asked t' see meh, mister Ghorren?" Lorellai asked, sitting near the troll.

"Ah, good, thank you for coming. I wanted to apologise for lying to you, Lorellai."

"About how bad you were hurt?" Lorellai asked, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Yes. I didn't want to worry you when there was still possibly trouble about. I have been informed by the good healer that I was being patronizing towards you, and I shouldn't have been. She also wasn't interested in my excuse of suffering from toxic shock at the time, so sorry about that as well."

Lorellai wiped some tears from her eyes. "Alright, just this once. Next time though, you get medical help, troll or not. I dunnae want to have to tell your spooky daughter that I let yeh die because yeh were actin' a fool."

Ghorren laughed, and then winced. "Oof, laughing is a bit rough. No need to worry kid, I'll be back on my feet in a couple days. Regeneration isn't nothing, at least once you get all that rot magic cleaned out of the wound. And I think you'd like my spooky daughter if you got to know her, she knows a thing or two about having embarassing parents." Ghorren shot the girl a wink, which got him a laugh. "Alright, I should be sleeping. Keep everyone safe while I'm healing up, yeah?"

"Sure thing, mister Ghorren. Sleep tight."

[futilechildhooddream]

this is going to have several categories and I know it’s been a while op but I hope this still helps

AI Tools:

GoblinTools

will break tasks down into steps for you

ChatGPT

will help you organize essays and know where to start. useful for brainstorming. you can give it the prompt and it will suggest how you can respond and help you get your ideas out. you can also talk it out with friends. if you don’t know what to do, give the prompt to ChatGPT and tell it you’re overwhelmed and don’t know where to start! Ask for clarification if it’s being confusing

People Strategies:

Body doubling

have someone to their work with you. then you can check in on each other and do the same thing (hw) with more dopamine provided from existing around fellow humans

Exchange

neither you or your friend want to do anything. it sucks, it’s awful. you care about your friend so you want them to do their work and vice versa. so you do an exchange, if you start x project I’ll start y. often can be used with body doubling. Solidarity

Discord/VideoCall

listen FaceTime, discord, the like. Perfect for body doubling when far away. Plus, you can set them up your study buddies on your phone so you will be on your computer working instead. Virtual solidarity!

Competition or Rewards

my partner and I give ourselves stars whenever we compete a task. Depending on the mood we can compete to see who can get the most stars in a set amount of time, work together to collect a certain amount of stars by a certain amount of time, or just by ourselves give ourselves stars for doing it. We either use our journals or white boards to keep track

Individual Strategies:

Stars

mentioned above. I’ll draw boxes and write the tasks in the boxes. Then once the task is done I’ll star the box and tally it. Important to mention: not every star is for hw. There are ones for self-care, cleaning, organizating, communicating with friends, and school work. You can also give yourself multiple stars for completing a task if it’s worth more to you. I gave myself two stars for showering a few days ago. Yesterday I gave myself one star for just getting up. You can change the system to work for you depending on the day, it’s not cheating (in case you worry about that like me). I got 7 stars one time for completing every aspect of a project

Flowers

like art? Coloring? I make bullet point lists with those points as flowers for my tasks. After I complete the task I get to color it in. It makes me happy. On that note also,

Lists

I love lists. If you do too, they can be great for breaking down tasks or just visualizing what you have to do. Even just figuring out the first step, which can be as simple as getting up or moving to the designated work space. Or opening your computer (more on this below)

Just One Step

make use of consequence blindness. I’m going to do one thing for this and that’s it. I have to write an essay so I’ll create the doc for it. Oh well I already have the doc open I might as well set up formatting so I don’t have to later. Oh wow the formatting is already set up, might as well write a sentence even if it’s bad, at least it will be started… even one of those steps is more than you had done!

Apps:

Habitica

It’s a productivity rpg. There are three categories: habits, dailies, and todos. From completing any you get rewards and level up, gaining armor, pets, and defeating bosses through quests. It’s the first thing that helped me with my executive dysfunction

Focus Plant or similar

there are a lot of focus apps out there that will reward you for being off your phone. Often on these you can also allow for certain apps to be used. I often don’t allow for Pinterest and tumblr, but allow notability, email, and docs so that if I’m on my phone, I HAVE to be doing school stuff

General Advice:

1% is Better Than 0% Always

Do stuff on your phone!

computer can be a lot. Phone is often already in hand, and makes tasks easier to be done from bed. You can write essays, send emails, outline, write lists to breakdown, use AI or apps mentioned here, or coordinate with friends for homework purposes

Self-Care is important!

if you’re not taking care of yourself it can be even harder to get work done

It’s okay to mess up

everything is a learning experience

it will be okay

good luck!!!

okay tips for adhd when you don’t want to do it and it’s a little confusing and ur meds are not really working but all the other meds you’ve tried made you physically ill and it’s senior year of undergrad and deadlines are approaching but not here yet

[a-big-apple]

I posted 1,022 times in 2022

That's 91 more posts than 2021!

65 posts created (6%)

957 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jeejyboard

@questbedhead

@anonbea

@slamfalconry-clone

@theknightofroses

I tagged 1,015 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#awesome fanart - 440 posts

#the locked tomb - 333 posts

#ntn spoilers - 112 posts

#steven universe - 76 posts

#encanto - 68 posts

#art - 60 posts

#videos - 51 posts

#luisa madrigal - 27 posts

#animals - 25 posts

#my fanfiction - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#omg that one commenter is right harrow would perfectly roast a marshmallow for gideon who would then complain that it's not burnt to a crisp

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Thoughts on Surface Pressure 2/2

Let’s jump right back in! First part is here.

I was talking about anxiety, and here it is:

We’re back to the verse. “Under the surface, I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us.” That dissonance between what she’s showing and what she’s saying is back. She worries, it worsens, but she’s posing, ready to stop an avalanche. Mirabel is a beat behind, still putting together what Luisa’s telling her even while Luisa’s once again putting her body between Mirabel and danger.

NOW WE ARRIVE AT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS!

See the full post

55 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

#4

It’s almost time for the 2022 @fandomtrumpshate auction!!! 

Support progressive causes by creating and receiving amazing fanwork! Whether you want to offer your talents or bid on others’ offers, there are plenty of options for every level of time, energy, and money.

Want to know more? This year’s details are all here!

100 notes - Posted January 13, 2022

#3

See the full post

109 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

#2

Ok I have to go off about Luisa’s look for a minute because I’ve been watching Encanto daily (sometimes twice a day) in that honeymoon phase of wanting to see every detail and I’m quietly taking notes on her outfit so I can make it for myself and I have a lot to say about it

So it’s clear her whole look is about practicality, right, she’s sweet, she’s femme, but she has a lot of manual labor to do on the daily and her whole self-worth is riding on doing it well. So everything she’s got going on is supporting that goal! 

Her hair: gorgeous, I would pay so much money to see it down, but she can’t afford to have it in her face or in the way. So she’s got it braided on the side, which is pretty and decorative but also a braid can sometimes hold onto your little short tendrils that would pop out of a regular ponytail, and we know she has some little tendrils! 

Also, the bun! It bounces like it’s not super tight, so probably she’s not taking a ton of time in the morning to get it precise--again, it’s a practical choice, she’s working out before the coffee’s even ready. A quick bun is up off her neck, out of her face, nothing dangling that’s gonna get caught on the bottom of a church or whatever. She has a nice thick ribbon for it too, because all that hair is probably pretty heavy.

See the full post

135 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

HEY BONERS...i really lost my grip for like, several weeks, and put together this truly heinous, flagrantly too long, not entirely navigable or sensible google document in which i have extensively quoted and annotated Gideon the Ninth, Harrow the Ninth, As Yet Unsent, and the Mysterious Study of Doctor Sex.

it was meant entirely for me, to prepare my brain for Nona, but i thought it would be silly to do all this work and not share it with anyone. so if it sounds like a thing you’d be into, check it out, and maybe leave comments in the doc while you’re there if you want!

136 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[duckprintspress]

How to Edit an Over-Length Story Down to a Specific Word Count

One of the most wonderful things about writing as a hobby is that you never have to worry about the length of your story. You can be as self-indulgent as you want, make your prose the royalist of purples, include every single side story and extra thought that strikes your fancy. It’s your story, with no limits, and you can proceed with it as you wish.

When transitioning from casual writing to a more professional writing milieu, this changes. If you want to publish, odds are, you’ll need to write to a word count. If a flash fiction serial says, “1,000 words or less,” your story can’t be 1,025 and still qualify. If a website says, “we accept novellas ranging from 20,000 to 40,000 words,” your story will need to fall into that window. Even when you consider novel-length works, stories are expected to be a certain word count to fit neatly into specific genres - romance is usually around 80,000 words, young adult usually 50,000 to 80,000, debut novels usually have to be 100,000 words or less regardless of genre, etc. If you self-publish or work with a small press, you may be able to get away with breaking these “rules,” but it’s still worthwhile to learn to read your own writing critically with length in mind and learn to recognize what you do and do not need to make your story work - and then, if length isn’t an issue in your publishing setting, you can always decide after figuring out what’s non-essential to just keep everything anyway.

If you’re writing for fun? You literally never have to worry about your word count (well, except for sometimes in specific challenges that have minimum and/or maximum word counts), and as such, this post is probably not for you.

But, if you’re used to writing in the “throw in everything and the kitchen sink” way that’s common in fandom fanfiction circles, and you’re trying to transition only to be suddenly confronted with the reality that you’ve written 6,000 words for a short story project with a maximum word count of 5,000...well, we at Duck Prints Press have been there, we are in fact there right now, as we finish our stories for our upcoming anthology Add Magic to Taste and many of us wrote first drafts that were well over the maximum word count.

So, based on our experiences, here are our suggestions on approaches to help your story shorter...without losing the story you wanted to tell!

Cut weasel words (we wrote a whole post to help you learn how to do that!) such as unnecessary adverbs and adjectives, the “was ~ing” sentence structure, redundant time words such as “a moment later,” and many others.

When reviewing dialog, keep an eye out for “uh,” “er,” “I mean,” “well,” and other casual extra words. A small amount of that kind of language usage can make dialog more realistic, but a little goes a long way, and often a fair number of words can be removed by cutting these words, without negatively impacting your story at all.

Active voice almost always uses fewer words than passive voice, so try to use active voice more (but don’t forget that passive voice is important for varying up your sentence structures and keeping your story interesting, so don’t only write in active voice!).

Look for places where you can replace phrases with single words that mean the same thing. You can often save a lot of words by switching out phrases like “come back” for “return” and seeking out other places where one word can do the work of many.

Cut sentences that add atmosphere but don't forward the plot or grow your characters. (Obviously, use your judgement. Don't cut ALL the flavor, but start by going - I’ve got two sentences that are mostly flavor text - which adds more? And then delete the other, or combine them into one shorter sentence.)

Remove superfluous dialog tags. If it’s clear who’s talking, especially if it’s a conversation between only two people, you can cut all the he saids, she saids.

Look for places where you've written repetitively - at the most basic level, “ ‘hahaha,’ he laughed,” is an example, but repetition is often more subtle, like instances where you give information in once sentence, and then rephrase part or all of that sentence in the next one - it’s better to poke at the two sentences until you think of an effective, and more concise, way to make them into only one sentence. This also goes for scenes - if you’ve got two scenes that tend towards accomplishing the same plot-related goal, consider combining them into one scene.

Have a reason for every sentence, and even every sentence clause (as in, every comma insertion, every part of the sentence, every em dashed inclusion, that kind of thing). Ask yourself - what function does this serve? Have I met that function somewhere else? If it serves no function, or if it’s duplicative, consider cutting it. Or, the answer may be “none,” and you may choose to save it anyway - because it adds flavor, or is very in character for your PoV person, or any of a number of reasons. But if you’re saving it, make sure you’ve done so intentionally. It's important to be aware of what you're trying to do with your words, or else how can you recognize what to cut, and what not to cut?

Likewise, have a reason for every scene. They should all move the story along - whatever the story is, it doesn’t have to be “the end of the world,” your story can be simple and straightforward and sequential...but if you’re working to a word count, your scenes should still forward the story toward that end point. If the scene doesn’t contribute...you may not need them, or you may be able to fold it in with another scene, as suggested in item 6.

Review the worldbuilding you’ve included, and consider what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. A bit of worldbuilding outside of the bare essentials makes a story feel fleshed out, but again, a little can go a long way. If you’ve got lots of “fun” worldbuilding bits that don’t actually forward your plot and aren’t relevant to your characters, cut them. You can always put them as extras in your blog later, but they’ll just make your story clunky if you have a lot of them.

Beware of info-dumps. Often finding a more natural way to integrate that information - showing instead of telling in bits throughout the story - can help reduce word count.

Alternatively - if you over-show, and never tell, this will vastly increase your word count, so consider if there are any places in your story where you can gloss over the details in favor of a shorter more “tell-y” description. You don’t need to go into a minute description of every smile and laugh - sometimes it’s fine to just say, “she was happy” or “she frowned” without going into a long description of their reaction that makes the reader infer that they were happy. (Anyone who unconditionally says “show, don’t tell,” is giving you bad writing advice. It’s much more important to learn to recognize when showing is more appropriate, and when telling is more appropriate, because no story will function as a cohesive whole if it’s all one or all the other.)

If you’ve got long paragraphs, they’re often prime places to look for entire sentences to cut. Read them critically and consider what’s actually helping your story instead of just adding word count chonk.

Try reading some or all of the dialog out loud; if it gets boring, repetitive, or unnecessary, end your scene wherever you start to lose interest, and cut the dialog that came after. If necessary, add a sentence or two of description at the end to make sure the transition is abrupt, but honestly, you often won’t even need to do so - scenes that end at the final punchy point in a discussion often work very well.

Create a specific goal for a scene or chapter. Maybe it’s revealing a specific piece of information, or having a character discover a specific thing, or having a specific unexpected event occur, but, whatever it is, make sure you can say, “this scene/chapter is supposed to accomplish this.” Once you know what you’re trying to do, check if the scene met that goal, make any necessary changes to ensure it does, and cut things that don’t help the scene meet that goal.

Building on the previous one, you can do the same thing, but for your entire story. Starting from the beginning, re-outline the story scene-by-scene and/or chapter-by-chapter, picking out what the main “beats” and most important themes are, and then re-read your draft and make sure you’re hitting those clearly. Consider cutting out the pieces of your story that don’t contribute to those, and definitely cut the pieces that distract from those key moments (unless, of course, the distraction is the point.)

Re-read a section you think could be cut and see if any sentences snag your attention. Poke at that bit until you figure out why - often, it’s because the sentence is unnecessary, poorly worded, unclear, or otherwise superfluous. You can often rewrite the sentence to be clearer, or cut the sentence completely without negatively impacting your work.

Be prepared to cut your darlings; even if you love a sentence or dialog exchange or paragraph, if you are working to a strict word count and it doesn't add anything, it may have to go, and that's okay...even though yes, it will hurt, always, no matter how experienced a writer you are. (Tip? Save your original draft, and/or make a new word doc where you safely tuck your darlings in for the future. Second tip? If you really, really love it...find a way to save it, but understand that to do so, you’ll have to cut something else. It’s often wise to pick one or two favorites and sacrifice the rest to save the best ones. We are not saying “always cut your darlings.” That is terrible writing advice. Don’t always cut your darlings. Writing, and reading your own writing, should bring you joy, even when you’re doing it professionally.)

If you’re having trouble recognizing what in your own work CAN be cut, try implementing the above strategies in different places - cut things, and then re-read, and see how it works, and if it works at all. Sometimes, you’ll realize...you didn’t need any of what you cut. Other times, you’ll realize...it no longer feels like the story you were trying to tell. Fiddle with it until you figure out what you need for it to still feel like your story, and practice that kind of cutting until you get better at recognizing what can and can’t go without having to do as much tweaking.

Lastly...along the lines of the previous...understand that sometimes, cutting your story down to a certain word count will just be impossible. Some stories simply can’t be made very short, and others simply can’t be told at length. If you’re really struggling, it’s important to consider that your story just...isn’t going to work at that word count. And that’s okay. Go back to the drawing board, and try again - you’ll also get better at learning what stories you can tell, in your style, using your own writing voice, at different word counts. It’s not something you’ll just know how to do - that kind of estimating is a skill, just like all other writing abilities.

As with all our writing advice - there’s no one way to tackle cutting stories for length, and also, which of these strategies is most appropriate will depend on what kind of story you’re writing, how much over-length it is, what your target market is, your characters, and your personal writing style. Try different ones, and see which work for you - the most important aspect is to learn to read your own writing critically enough that you are able to recognize what you can cut, and then from that standpoint, use your expertise to decide what you should cut, which is definitely not always the same thing. Lots of details can be cut - but a story with all of the flavor and individuality removed should never be your goal.

Contributions to this post were made by @unforth, @jhoomwrites, @alecjmarsh, @shealynn88, @foxymoley, @willablythe, and @owlishintergalactic, and their input has been used with their knowledge and explicit permission. Thanks, everyone, for helping us consider different ways to shorten stories!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,765 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: This part is LONG! This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Safe in Hilltop, Daryl worries about Y/N and rushes her to the doctor.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl looked desperately at Maggie. You were completely limp in his arms, your head lolled toward his chest. “Where’s the doctor here?” he asked.

“This way.” Maggie, Sasha, and Enid hurriedly led the way to the medical trailer. Daryl glanced down at your face as he walked. You seemed to be breathing okay, but you were extremely pale.

Dr. Carson spun around as Daryl busted inside. He immediately dropped the papers in his hand and rushed over as Daryl rested you down as gently as he could on one of the beds. “What happened?”

Daryl shrugged. “Dunno. She just went pale and then she was out.”

Dr. Carson grabbed your wrist and felt for your pulse, keeping his eyes on the second hand of his watch. “Her pulse is a little elevated.” He looked at Daryl as well as the concerned faces of Maggie, Sasha, and Enid gathered around on the other side of your bed. He grabbed a blood pressure cuff and returned to your side.

Daryl’s expression was overwhelmed with concern. He brushed your hair off your face and anxiously chewed on his bottom lip.

“Do we have any guesses?” Dr. Carson asked, watching the dial on the cuff. He noticed that Daryl looked like he needed some treatment, too…

Daryl paused thoughtfully for a moment. “We just came from The Sanctuary,” he said darkly. “Escaped. If I had to guess, I’d say she ain’t been eatin’ or sleepin’.” He ran a hand back through his dirty hair. “And, uhh… she’s—probably some… some trauma. I dunno about injuries.” He realized that it was entirely possible you had lied to him about not being hurt. He shifted his weight anxiously, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and grabbed one of your hands gently in his. It felt small, fragile. You’d always seemed to be made of such strong stuff, Kevlar. This wasn’t right.

Dr. Carson nodded stoically. “Alright. Could be in shock. Why don’t the rest of you wait outside briefly? Enid, help me get her changed into a gown and checked over. We’ll hang an IV and get her hydrated, get some nutrients in her. Hopefully all she needs is rest.”

Daryl was hesitant to release your hand and stared at Enid and Dr. Carson as they rushed into action. Maggie noticed his unwillingness to leave and touched him gently on the arm. “Daryl. Come on. Let’s just wait outside a minute.” He shifted his weight back and forth, still staring down at your closed eyes and pale face. “Dr. Carson will take care of her. She’s gonna be just fine, but they need room to work. C’mon.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and reluctantly rested it back down on your stomach, allowing Sasha and Maggie to lead him outside. When the trailer door closed behind him with a snap he flinched, and he immediately sunk down on the steps, hanging his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

Sasha put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tensed. “She’s gonna be fine, Daryl. Dr. Carson is really good. She probably just needs some fluids and rest.”

He showed no sign of having heard her. All he could think about was how this was his fault.

About fifteen agonizing minutes later, the creak of the trailer door behind him sent Daryl rocketing to his feet. He looked up to see Enid in the doorway. She stepped out as Sasha and Maggie, also waiting nearby, rose to their feet too.

“Her blood pressure and heart rate have stabilized but she’s still out. Dr. Carson says she’ll probably just wake up when her body is ready to.”

Daryl was pacing in front of the steps now, rubbing a hand over his mouth and the stubble on his face. “Is she, uhh—Did ya check her over? Is she—she hurt somehow?” he asked desperately.

Enid shook her head. “Nothing that we could see or detect. Everything looks fine. She’s probably just in shock and dehydrated.”

Maggie stepped forward as Daryl froze in place again, staring down at his boots. His face was dark. “Daryl—what happened? How’d you get out?”

His hands clenched into fists and he shut his eyes. He felt like he could be sick. “She, uhh—” There was a quiver in his voice. “She came there to get me out. She—before Alexandria—she was a prisoner there and, uhh—” He was having a hard time getting the words out through his emotion, his face screwing up and his jaw clenching. He looked up and met Sasha’s eyes. “She was one of his ‘wives’,” Daryl growled. “She did it to save her brother. But when I got taken, she went back.” He began pacing again, pressing a hand over his face. “She went back to him, to Negan. She went back in so she could get me out.”

That was all he could get out. He collapsed again on the steps and immediately began anxiously chewing his thumbnail again.

The gravity of what Daryl had just said was settling over Maggie, Sasha, and Enid. Maggie collapsed back against the planter behind her. “Oh my God,” she uttered. “I had no idea.”

Daryl shook his head and shrugged. “She didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t want anyone to know.”

Rage flashed in Sasha’s eyes. “That sick son of a bitch. Did he do something to her?” she asked Daryl.

Daryl shook his head, refusing to look at anyone, turmoil churning in his chest, guilt crushing him so much he felt like he couldn’t take in air. “Depends on what ya mean by ‘somethin’,” he growled.

“Oh my God,” Maggie said again, pressing a hand over her mouth.

Enid lightly touched Daryl’s shoulder. “Dr. Carson wants to look you over. At least the gunshot wound.”

“’M fine,” he barked back.

“Probably. But just let us check,” she said gently.

Daryl hesitated for a moment, but finally conceded and stood. “Fine. But I’m sittin’ right beside her ‘til she wakes up.” Enid nodded and Daryl followed her back into the trailer.

Outside, Maggie and Sasha exchanged another distraught look.

“I didn’t know. About her brother. About Negan—any of it,” Sasha said. “Did you?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. But she was always really private. Never talked about her past. I can see why. How do you even begin to explain somethin’ like that to someone?”

“Until she talked about The Saviors that day, here, I never—but even then she didn’t say—"

Maggie shook her head. “Goin’ back. To him. To that? Knowing what he’d done to our people. What he was capable of. I can’t imagine…”

Sasha nodded, wide-eyed. “Yeah… I mean, I knew she was a badass. I’ve fought walkers beside her but—” She shook her head again, her lips parting in disbelief.

“She did it for Daryl,” Maggie said quietly, smoothing a hand over her belly. _ _ _ _ _ _

Sometime later, Maggie went back over to the medical trailer to see how you were doing. When she got inside, Dr. Carson was taking inventory of the drugs in the cabinet and he nodded toward the far corner in response to her questioning look.

When she rounded the curtain divider, she saw Daryl sitting at your bedside, leaning forward in a chair, anxiously chewing his thumbnail. His gaze was fixated on your face, but his blue eyes seemed unfocused.

Maggie stepped forward and lightly rested a hand on your arm. “How is she?”

Daryl shook his head almost imperceptibly and shrugged.

“Has she woken up at all?” Maggie asked him.

He shook his head again and straightened up in his chair. “Nah. Not yet.”

Maggie took in the worn and exhausted look on Daryl’s face, the bruises, the layers of dirt on his skin. “You should go get cleaned up. I’ll sit with her. Enid can show you where you can stay.”

He shook his head, leaning forward onto the edge of your bed with his elbows. “Nah. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“She’ll be okay,” Maggie said, but knowing better than to try to persuade Daryl to leave. Nothing short of sheer force would have moved him. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged vaguely. “Doc says I’m okay.”

“Good. That’s good. But not exactly what I meant.” She waited, but he didn’t respond. “I’ll bring you some food.” She rested her hand gently on Daryl’s shoulder and felt him stiffen beneath her touch, but he hardly acknowledged it. Once Maggie had disappeared around the curtain, he reached out and grasped your hand in his again. It felt a little cold, and he rubbed it gently between his palms. And he waited.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Dr. Carson came to check on your vitals again around midnight and found Daryl slumped over on the edge of your bed, his head resting on his arms. He jumped awake the sound of the doctor’s footsteps.

“Sorry,” Dr. Carson said softly.

Daryl rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced at your face. He rested his hand on yours again. “How is she?” he asked, his voice a gruff rasp.

The doctor finished listening to your pulse and your lungs, and reached for the blood pressure cuff. “All her vitals are good,” he said. “She went through a traumatic experience?” he asked, a glance at Daryl’s expression.

His brow drew down low over his eyes and his face darkened. He nodded.

“Then her mind and body probably just need time to be turned off for a while. And if she wasn’t sleeping or eating, she needs to recover the things her body’s missing.” He checked the level of the IV drip bag. “That’s what this is for.”

“Ya didn’t find—anything physical? She wasn’t beat up or—?”

Dr. Carson shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. Nothing like what you went through.” He paused, but Daryl showed no sign that he was going to respond. “You went through trauma too. Physical and otherwise. You should also get some rest,” he said kindly. “I promise she’s in good hands here.”

Daryl nodded. “I know. I just—she’d be here for me. So. I’m gonna be here for her.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl awoke to the sound of tweeting birds outside the next morning and slowly lifted his head off his arms, which were resting on the edge of your bed. He rubbed at his tired eyes and glanced over at you. He shot upright, his chair clattering back and squeaking on the floor. Your eyes were open. He grabbed your hand and you gave it a squeeze.

“Y/N,” he said, leaning over you. “Doc!”

You looked tired and a little groggy but you were awake, looking up at him. Your lips curved in a small smile at his reaction on realizing you were awake.

“Why the hell didn’t ya wake me up?” he asked you, studying your expression.

“Because you need sleep,” you said softly.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re the one in the damn hospital bed and you’re tryin��� to take care of me still? Stop,” he drawled. Dr. Carson arrived at your side and grinned down at you. “Good to see you awake,” he said, putting his stethoscope in his ears and listening to your heart and lungs. “How are you feeling?”

Daryl was standing anxiously at your side, rocking on his feet.

“Tired,” you said softly. “And a bit confused.” You looked back over at Daryl. “What happened? I remember getting here and then—nothing.”

He nodded, his nose nudging up slightly. “Ya just passed out all of a sudden.”

You frowned. “Oh. How long was I out?”

“Overnight,” Dr. Carson replied, letting the pressure out of the blood pressure cuff. “BP is normal.” He took in the color in your cheeks. “You look better. But I’d like you to stay here today and overnight again, just in case. We’ll keep giving you some more fluids and you need to eat and rest,” he emphasized. He put a hand kindly on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. Take it easy.”

You looked back over at Daryl. His expression was disturbed and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You tried to swallow it but it didn’t budge.

“Are ya alright?” Daryl asked you. “Really?

You turned your eyes back up toward the ceiling and flashes of Negan surged forward in your mind. You could almost feel his hands on you, feel his lips on you. You shut your eyes tight and shrugged. “I don’t know,” you said softly. “But I will be.” You glanced back over at him. “Have you been here this whole time?”

He nudged his nose up twice in a nod. “Ya. And I ain’t leavin’. So dun even try.” He pulled his chair back over to your bedside again and sat down.

You studied his face, the bruises still glaring out at you. “You should go get cleaned up. And I hope you’ve been eating and—”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere until you’re gettin’ out of here.” He held up a dirty plate though. “I’ve been eatin’. Sasha and Maggie keep shovin’ food on me.”

You nodded and sighed, feeling suddenly tired again. “Good. But you should shower, get some clean clothes that fit better…”

“Hey—” he said forcefully, grabbing your hand. You looked down at it in surprise. “I ain’t leavin’ ya in here alone.”

Your eyes flitted between his. “I’m okay. You can take care of you.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Nah. ‘M good.”

Not too long after that, you drifted off to sleep again.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl kept true to his word and slept slumped over at your bedside again despite your continued protests, waking every once and a while and studying your face, the relaxed pout of your lips. By the time you awoke the next morning and Dr. Carson came by, you were more than ready to get out of the medical trailer.

“You’re sure she’s alright,” Daryl asked, walking with Dr. Carson toward the door. You were changing into some clean clothes Maggie had brought by behind the curtain in the corner.

Dr. Carson nodded. “She is. She just needs to take it easy a while. Lots of rest and water. And you too,” he said, giving Daryl a sharp look. “You know where to find me if there’s anything you need.”

Daryl looked hesitant but he nodded. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. He pushed outside and found Enid waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey. Maggie sent me to show you where you and Y/N can stay.”

Daryl nodded, shrugging his hands into his pockets. “She’s just changin’,” he said. Enid nodded and they both patiently waited. The trailer door creaked open and you came down the steps looking like you were almost back to your old self.

“Good to see you up,” Enid said kindly, smiling at you. Enid showed you to a trailer that was sparsely furnished, but there was a bathroom and a couch and a large bed in one corner, along with a dining area and a little kitchenette. “We had other plans for this trailer but I think it will be better suited for you two for now, while you’re here. Unless you wanted to stay up in Barrington house,” she said.

“This is perfect.” You turned back to Enid. “Thank you.”

She nodded and smiled. “Maggie, Sasha, and I are just in the trailer right next door. It’s actually Jesus’ but he’s out on a run. But in case you need anything, that’s usually where you can find us.” She headed for the door but turned back with her hand on the doorknob. “I’m really glad you’re both here. And that you’re okay.”

You gave her a warm smile before she went out. The door snapped closed behind her and you suddenly felt completely lost, like you didn’t even know what to do with yourself.

You realized Daryl was standing close in front of you and you looked up, your eyes following up his broad chest, and landed on his face. He must have been able to read something in your expression.

He felt a constriction in his throat as you met his eyes and he finally realized how scared he actually had been when you had passed out. “Ya scared me,” he rasped.

You looked down toward your boots. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened.”

“I do,” he said. “Ya were so worried about me ya weren’t taking care of you.” His hands closed gently around your shoulders and as you looked up at him, into his blue eyes, you finally went to pieces, suddenly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. Tears poured down your cheeks and your shoulders shook as you tried to gasp in breaths, wanting to pull yourself together but feeling helpless to in that moment.

Daryl’s chest ached. He quickly pulled you against him and held you tight, feeling each hitch of your shuddered breaths. He just held you while you cried, squeezing his eyes shut against a few tears of his own born of rage and sadness and regret. And eventually your breathing evened out and smoothed beneath his hands, and you pulled gently back and wiped the tear streaks from your cheeks, looking up at him. He simply nodded.

You crossed the room and sank down on the couch, staring vaguely at the opposite wall, pressing a hand up to your forehead, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees for a long moment.

Daryl just stood a short distance away, chewing on his bottom lip… wishing he could read your mind.

At length you sat up again after rubbing both your hands down over your face. “I’m okay,” you whispered, seeing that he was still intent on you, his eyes narrowed. “Really.” You tilted your head in the direction of the bathroom. “You should go get cleaned up. I’ll be right here,” you said.

“Ya sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Daryl grabbed some clean clothes and went into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. It’d been so long since he’d seen himself. He sighed heavily and stripped off his clothes. He turned on the shower and stepped into the hot stream of water, gasping at the sensation of it pouring over his skin, leaning his head back and letting it run over his face, soaking his sore and bruised body. He hastily washed his hair and scrubbed all the built-up dirt and grime from his skin, wincing a little as his hands moved roughly over bruises on his ribs and back from his last beating.

At length, Daryl came out of the bathroom. His wet hair was sending drops of water down to pepper his shirt. He looked so much better, just having gotten the dirt and grime rinsed off his skin and out of his hair and you couldn’t help smiling at him.

“Better?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed.

You were waiting on the couch with a first aid kit and beckoned him over with a nod. He licked his bottom lip and huffed a little but wandered over and sat down next to you. You grabbed some alcohol pads and took his hand, the one with the split knuckles and swelling, pulling it over onto your lap. You cleaned it up and put some ointment on his knuckles. The whole time you felt nervous with his hand in yours and Daryl was feeling an obnoxious flutter in his chest as your fingers floated over his skin. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“You should have had Dr. Carson look at this—make sure it isn’t broken,” you said, pausing with the bandage in your hand.

“Nah. S’fine,” Daryl said.

You gave him a knowing look. “It could be a boxer’s break,” you said, starting to wrap the bandage gently over his knuckles and around his palm. “Happens when you punch a hard surface. Like a wall,” you said quietly. Your words suggested you knew exactly how he had injured his hand, that night after he had been forced to see you on Negan’s lap.

Daryl gulped and avoided your eyes. “Ain’t broken.”

You nodded. “Okay. There. Done.” You looked up at his face and realized he truly looked exhausted. “You need real rest,” you said. “Not locked in a cell rest or slumped over at my bedside rest.”

“’M fine,” he said, getting up and going over to the table to grab some food from the basket Maggie had left for you both.

Your brow furrowed and you gave him a look.

“What?”

“No,” you repeated, shaking your head. “You’ve been sleeping, or not sleeping, on a hard floor as long as they had you. And you haven’t slept properly since we got here.”

He stared at you with narrowed eyes, getting ready to argue.

“Daryl. I’m fine. And we’re safe. You can rest.” It was like your permission was the last thing he needed. You watched his shoulders visibly slump. He conceded. “Alright…” He walked over to the bed and laid down carefully. You could tell he was in pain when he moved and your brow furrowed.

He adjusted the pillow under his head. “Well, what are ya gonna do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe go fill in Maggie. Tell her what happened.”

A shadow darkened his face. “I told her a little. After you were, ya know, with the doc. But not much.”

You nodded. “Okay.” You started toward the door and he sat back up halfway.

“Hey. Just—ya ain’t goin’ outside the walls, right?”

` ` You shook your head. “No.”

“Promise me,” he growled.

His concern was clear. You nodded. “I promise. Get some rest.”

Daryl watched the door close behind you and sighed, sinking back onto the bed and draping an arm over his eyes. Part of him wanted to ask you to stay… but what would he say? That he needed you nearby? Needed to know you were safe? That he wanted you right beside him… He wasn’t feeling brave enough for that yet no matter how badly he wanted it.

You walked to the next trailer over and the door was propped open, letting in the sunshine and a breeze. Maggie was sitting at the table eating a snack and looking over some papers. Enid was sitting nearby.

“Hey,” Maggie said, giving you a smile. “You look better. It’s good to see you out and about. Where’s Daryl?”

You nodded and shoved your hands into your pockets. “I convinced him to try and get some actual sleep.”

“Good. He needs it,” she said, her eyes turning a little sad. “Ya know, he completely refused to leave your side while you were out.” She gave you a pointed look and you felt your cheeks flush but you pretended you hadn’t heard her. “What’s up?”

“Umm, I just thought—maybe I’d fill you in on what happened. And I wondered if you knew anything about everyone back in Alexandria.”

She nodded. “To my knowledge everyone else back home is alright. Rick’s been scavenging for the Saviors. They’ve been making pick-ups so far for Negan. But supplies are getting scarce.”

You nodded.

“Come on and sit down,” Maggie said.

“Do you want me to go? I could—”

“It’s alright, Enid,” you said kindly. “No reason for you to leave. I don’t have anything left to hide at this point…” You heaved a deep breath and let it out. “I haven’t even told Rick any of this yet because before I could Daryl was gone. And I just went after him, to get him back. I didn’t want to wait another second.”

Maggie nodded and her brow furrowed as she listened intently. “He told us. Just a little bit. About what you did. You don’t have to tell us anything more if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. I—I think I’d rather just get it out, you know?” You related your story to her and Enid. You were grateful they didn’t interrupt you because you were afraid if you stopped you wouldn’t be able to start up again. You explained what you had done to get Daryl out, going back to Negan and being one of his ‘wives’ again. Maggie reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze as her eyes filled with tears.

“My God. Y/N,” she said when you had finished. “He could have killed you on sight.”

You nodded. “He could have. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t. And he didn’t.” She squeezed your hand again.

Enid was looking at you with round eyes.

You felt your cheeks turning pink and shook your head. “I just did what needed to be done. To get him out.”

Maggie grabbed you suddenly into a tight hug, squeezing a little of the air from your lungs. “Thank you. For bringing him back to us. And you came back to us, too.” She pulled back and gave you a teary smile, which you returned. “I can’t imagine what you went through. But I’m just so grateful you’re both here.”

“Me too.” You got up and Enid stood to grab you in a tight hug too. You smiled at her a little awkwardly. “I think I’m just gonna take a walk around a bit. Get some air,” you said with a small smile.

“Alright. Take it easy, though,” she cautioned. “Doc’s orders.” You nodded and headed back outside.

You ended up in the stables, petting the horses and brushing them down just to pass the time. You were grateful for the distraction. Your mind wandered to Daryl frequently and you sincerely hoped that he was getting some peaceful rest. He needed it. He deserved it.

You noticed Sasha up on the wall, standing watch near the gate and you headed over toward her.

“Hey,” you said, nearing the top of the ladder. You were a little winded. You still felt weak. Daryl’s guesses to Dr. Carson had been correct. You had hardly eaten or slept while you were at The Sanctuary, and it had taken more of a toll on you than you realized.

Sasha turned and helped you climb to your feet. “What the hell are you doin’ up here? You’re supposed to be taking it easy!” she said.

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “I’m trying.” You looked out over the wall, leaning on the top of the logs. A few walkers were staggering in the field in the distance and Sasha raised her eye to the scope of her rifle to watch them. You glanced over at her. “How are you doing? After everything? And Maggie? Really?”

Sasha gulped and lowered the gun with a heavy sigh. She shrugged and you saw pain in her eyes when she glanced at you. “I’m alive,” she muttered, before turning her eyes back to the field in front of you. “Maggie is too.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, catching her meaning exactly. “We just—have to keep going.”

She looked over at you. “Daryl told us what you did. I can’t imagine—”

You sniffled and averted your eyes with a shrug. “I just had to get him out of there,” you said.

She nodded and turned again to stare back out over the fields.

“Have you been getting any trouble from Gregory?” you asked. Sasha scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“That man is a useless weasel. But he’s stayed away from me. Maggie’s been dealing with him.”

You picked at a soft spot on top of the log in front of you with your index finger. “He struck me as a nutless slimeball,” you muttered. It actually elicited a laugh from Sasha and you joined her in a low chuckle, shaking your head.

“That’s accurate,” she said appreciatively.

“Hey!” A familiar, gruff voice down below. Daryl. “What the hell are ya doin’?” he yelled up at you.

“Uh oh. Busted,” you said in an undertone to Sasha. She laughed again. You went to the edge of the lookout stand and peered down at him. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you said.

He shrugged vaguely and continued looking up at you. You turned back to Sasha. “See you later,” you said. You climbed down the ladder and were met at the bottom by the archer’s intense stare.

“What the hell are ya doin’ up there?”

You shrugged. “Just talking to Sasha,” you said.

Daryl scowled at you and shook his head. “Ya shouldn’t be up there. What if some of them are out there watchin’? What if they see ya?”

“They aren’t out there,” you said.

“Ya don’t know that!” he said angrily.

You sighed and put your hands on your hips, staring down at your boots. “Okay. Alright. I get it. I won’t go up there again.”

“Good,” he spat back at you.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Did you get any sleep?” you asked. He started pacing back toward the trailer and you fell in behind him. He only grunted over his shoulder which you interpreted as an answer similar to ‘not much’. “How come?”

“I just couldn’t, alright?” he said, irritation evident in his voice.

“Daryl,” you said, reaching out and grabbing his arm gently. “What’s wrong? Why do you sound… pissed?”

He stormed into the trailer and rounded on you suddenly. There was clearly something going on in his blue eyes, turmoil. He paced in front of the couch for a moment as you stared at him, trying to decode his sudden agitation. “How could ya—how could ya do what ya did?!” he demanded angrily. “How could ya go back to him? Ya let him—how could ya let him—put his hands on ya? Ya let him—how—” his voice broke and the anger that was there a moment before was gone, replaced by anguish.

You felt a sinking feeling in the middle of your chest, right between your lungs, as you suddenly understood that his anger wasn’t really anger.

He froze and chewed his bottom lip anxiously. There was a long pause where you could feel a bubble of tension growing between the two of you. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “M’sorry. ‘M so sorry,” he said gruffly. “You were right about going after them, after Denise. I should have listened to ya,” he said. “But I was so damn angry... And now… S’my fault you had to go back to him. S’my fault he—he had you to—” His jaw clenched and he looked away, forcing in a breath. “It’s my fault Glenn’s dead. There’s a whole goddamn pile of things that are my fault.”

“Hey—” You shook your head. “No. No, you don’t get to do that. Even if you hadn’t gone out there, Dwight might have come back and found us and Alexandria anyway. And Glenn—you weren’t holding the bat, Daryl.”

“Ya weren’t there,” he growled. “It was my fault. It was.”

“No.” Your voice was forceful. “It wasn’t. I might not have been at the line up with our people but I’ve been at one before and there is no way to know how many people would have died anyway. Negan’s like that. His men are like that. Could have been more or less regardless of whatever you did that you think got Glenn killed.”

Daryl turned away. He stood stock-still in the center of the room, his shoulders tense. “You can be pissed at me or at the universe or whatever you want,” you said. “I really don’t care at this point because I’m just so damn happy you’re not in there anymore. It doesn’t matter what it took. I was gonna get you out. Nobody deserves to be treated that way, especially you.” You sighed heavily and stared at his back and broad shoulders. “You have to know that. It was my choice to go back.”

Just then, at possibly the worst time, there was a knock on the door and you turned to answer it with a heavy sigh. The so-called “leader” of Hilltop, Gregory, was standing there on the doorstep. “Well, hello,” he said, nodding his head. You stepped back and peered at him with dislike. Daryl spun around to glare him down. “Aren’t—can I come in?” he asked.

You stepped back begrudgingly so he could take another step inside. He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and then put his hands on his hips, looking around the inside of the trailer. You noticed that Daryl picked up a crossbow he must have gotten from the armory and started fiddling with one of the bolts, purposely fixing his icy blue eyes on Gregory. “Well, now, Margaret—”

“Maggie,” you corrected him.

“Right. Maggie,” he started again, seeming to quail a little under the tone of your voice, “has said that you two escaped from The Saviors compound. Is that true?”

“Why do ya care?” Daryl snapped, leaning back against the dining table.

“Well, I care because this is my place and I am hoping to continue to have a peaceful working relationship with The Saviors and—and—and I,” he stammered, “don’t think that is possible if I am harboring fugitives amongst my people. Not safe for—for my community, you see.”

Daryl stood up, his chin inclined. “And?”

“And,” he said, raising a finger, “and I came to tell you that—you’re welcome to stay the night but I want you gone tomorrow. I have to do what’s right for my people.”

Daryl stepped forward his chest puffed up. “Who’s gonna throw us out? You?” he growled. “Ain’t no peace with The Saviors. You’ll figure that out eventually. Or did ya forget ya made a deal with us to get rid of ‘em?”

Gregory leaned back away from Daryl, who was getting right up in his face. “We haven’t had any trouble until—until you people showed up,” he said.

“Really?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Remember Craig? Your man that they took? Who got him back? We did. You would have just let him die.” You scoffed.

Gregory glared at you and gestured vaguely with a hand. “Aren’t you his—his wife? Don’t you have some loyalty to—”

“Ya better fuckin’ watch what you’re about to say,” Daryl growled, poking a finger into Gregory’s chest and posturing at him. Gregory stepped back. “Ya don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he growled.

“It’s alright, Daryl. He’s obviously an idiot,” you said.

Gregory looked affronted. “What? I don’t have to stand for this! I’m the leader here! This is my place,” he said, puffing his chest out now. “If you both aren’t gone tomorrow, I’ll—I’ll tell Simon about all of you when they come for their next pick-up!”

Daryl hauled a fist back and punched Gregory hard across the face. His head snapped back and to the side and he let out a moan and groan dramatically. “Kal!” he yelled, for one of the guards. “Kal!”

Maggie and Enid appeared in the doorway as you were holding Daryl back from hitting Gregory again, your hands on his chest as he yelled at him over you. “Ya threatenin’ us, ya son of a bitch!? Ya don’t know who the hell you’re messin’ with!”

“Daryl! Hey! Daryl! Stop!” It was taking all your strength to hold him back. You could feel every muscle in his strong chest tensed beneath your hands.

“What’s goin’ on?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide.

“This prick threatened us!” Daryl roared. “Threatened to tell The Saviors about all of us here unless Y/N and I leave tomorrow,” he spat.

“Daryl!” you yelled again. You finally clasped his face in your hands and made him look at you. “Enough.” He softened immediately, his chest heaving. He stopped trying to push through you and instead paced a short distance away after your hands slipped from him.

“You threatenin’ us now?” Maggie asked him. Gregory was a pitiful sight, clutching a hand to his face where Daryl had punched him. “Do I have to remind you who exactly is trying to solve your problem with The Saviors?” Maggie drew herself up to her full height again. “We aren’t goin’ anywhere. And you’re not tellin’ The Saviors a damn thing. Ya know why? Because you need us. Things are gonna go bad for you soon enough. And when the time comes, you’re gonna need us to save your ass. You’re gonna need us to save your community because we actually know how to fight.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” Daryl snapped at him.

Gregory gave everyone a parting glare and laid it on thick, actually limping down the stairs and moaning about going to see Dr. Carson. You rolled your eyes and exchanged a look with Maggie.

“Ya alright?” she asked you. You nodded.

“Fine.”

“Alright. We’ll talk tomorrow. Goodnight,” she said. You slammed the trailer door shut and turned to look at Daryl, who was still fuming.

“Ya shoulda let me hit him again,” he growled, grabbing his crossbow again.

“I think the one you got was good enough,” you said. You gulped at the lump in your throat. “Thanks for that. For standing up for me when he—”

“S’nothin’. That asshole dunno what the hell he’s talkin’ about.”

You nodded. “I’m tired,” you mused aloud.

Daryl nodded. “Ya. Ya need more rest. I’ll take the couch,” he said, setting his crossbow down and heading toward it.

“Seriously?”

His confused eyes snapped back at you. “What?”

You sighed. “Daryl, you’re not sleeping on the couch. Come over here,” you said, tilting your head. You walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back on one side, slipping underneath them. “I’ll take this side. You take the other.” You climbed into bed.

Daryl watched as you settled into the pillow, exhaustion settling over you. You could feel his eyes on you and you propped yourself up on your elbow. You anxiously chewed your bottom lip, wondering how much of what you were thinking that you should actually say.

“It’ll help me sleep… if you’re right here,” you said softly.

Daryl’s heart raced in his chest. How could he deny you that? And in truth, that was all he wanted, to be right there with you, knowing you were safe, asleep, beside him, out of the reach of Negan and his wandering hands. His mind wandered to what it would be like to have you fall asleep in his arms. He nudged his chin up a couple times. “Alright.”

“Thanks,” you murmured. You sighed and settled back into the pillow. You kept your eyes closed, but didn’t sleep yet, listening to Daryl softly moving about the room for a little while longer. Eventually you heard the soft rustling of fabric beside you and felt his weight on the other side of the bed.

He propped up the pillow and sat back against it on the headboard, his legs stretched out on top of the blankets, crossed at the ankles.

You smiled to yourself and finally allowed yourself to drift off.

[risu5waffles]

So, to put a bow on the day. [ed.'s note: she says, having started this post four hours ago, then getting distracted by Isaac and a conversation]

Doc says, "soooo... this blood we took before we started you on spiro says your testosterone was already, like, super low? So, honestly, probably you don't need to be on spiro." Which, you know, cool. Having to worry about how often i needed to leave the register to go to bathroom wasn't really fun times at the beach, even if it was pretty small potatoes as far as side effects go. Also, if they'd just done the check for t first thing, we could have saved ourselves a month of unnecessary medication. Which, you know, i'm actually not salty about. Like, whatever. [ed.'s note: risuko has been fretting the last 15minutes "but will people get that i really mean i'm not salty? It's gonna be like that Bill Hicks on marketing bit," so i assure you, she is not salty. this is very much a "it didn't kill us, insurance meant it wasn't ruinously priced, and it was a reassurance we were doing things 'right,' whatever the fuck right means in this context]

Then doc says, "so, are you following the instructions i gave you about using the gel," and, like, of course i am? Like, i talk a big game about going grey market, but i worry so much about fucking things up, that i'd have done it, but it would have needed to be a while of being very unhappy before jumping. So, following a very clear and simple instruction was high on my list, and i still worried i might be doing it wrong, so, like what's up? And doc is like, "it's just your estrogen levels are higher than I'd expect given your treatment so far. Like, a lot higher. Not impossibly, but definitely notably and unusually." So, we're both just, like, "huh. Ain't that a thing then?"

Can you be completely elated by something, while at the same time being completely unsurprised? Like, this is my meatsuit in spades. It's like all the points that i should have spent on, like, robust mental health during char gen, i just poured into constitution, and picked up "Mind of Its Own" as a bonus perk? i mean, i'm not complaining, not even a little bit, this is fucking awesome; but i look at my luck, and i kinda worry i might be draining good fortune from everyone else to pay for it? Like, i'd be happy to spread some of this health around if i knew how. i'd take more frequent sore throats if someone else got less severe allergies out of the deal. Shite, how do you go about setting something like that up? i should go find a faery ring or something.

i had to do laundry on top of shopping tonight on account of i've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and i really feel like the splitmouth demon girl shirt will best sell the mix of "sweet and charming, but will cut you" that i feel our sessions have been lacking. They say if you want to be taken seriously, you have to project confidence, but if you can't swing that, it can help to have a visual aid. i'd take the security blanket boxcutter, but that's just begging to be stopped by the cops again.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Contraband

(Story Post)

“Dax, sorry to keep you waiting,” Syd said as they came into the exam room. “No, it's fine,” Dax said. “I'm just happy to get some possible answers today.” Syd sat down at their desk and crossed their legs. “First of all, have you recently been in contact with either Jeffrey Matthews or Oliver Larson?” “Yes, Jeffrey has been over to my partner's house a lot, and I met his cousin over a week ago. Why?” “I had Oliver in today and he informed me that he shared a substance from this container with you, is that correct?” Syd took out the container of protein powder and placed it on the edge of his desk.

Dax blinked and turned it around. “Yes, he let me try some. I was looking for a new protein powder. Why? Is there something wrong with it?” “Yes, unfortunately Mr. Larson was mistaken of its contents,” Sydryn explained. “The container has been misused to carry alien made contraband that is almost certainly the cause of your incident a week ago.” Dax stared at the container. “…That caused me to do all that?” Sydryn nodded slowly. “It belonged to and was created by one Bler 9 Tid, a Prilarian formerly acquainted with Jeffrey Matthews. It has the ability of altering one's internal anatomy to create a womb capable of bearing viable live offspring in persons without one. It also increases the consumers libido and hormone production, causing the consumer to go into a chemically induced oestrus. Tid gave the contraband to Matthews to be able to impregnate him.” Dax was still for a few moment, unsure what to say. Piecing the events together in his mind, it all started to make sense. “…So, you're saying that the ‘protein powder' I added to my smoothie that morning actually made me grow a uterus and put me in a manufactured heat?” “Correct.” “So…” Dax was still searching for what he wanted to say. “…I was in heat, I tried to have sex with my boyfriend and when that didn't work…I just went to the next closest guy I knew… And now what, are you saying I could be pregnant?” Sydryn exhaled. “Yes, that is why we need to draw blood again.” “What happened to the blood you drew last week?” Dax asked. “We only tested it to check your hormone levels,” Sydryn said. “Also, a pregnancy cannot be confirmed until the second week.” “But it's only been one week,” Dax pointed out. “Yes, I failed to add earlier that this contraband you consumed also doubles the speed of a human pregnancy,” Sydryn said. “One week for you is two weeks for a pregnancy, if an egg was successfully fertilised.” Dax put his head in his hands trying to process all this information. “…After all that…I could be pregnant…with Kent's child?” Sydryn uncrossed their legs and leaned forward to place a hand on Dax's shoulder. “I understand that this is a lot to take in. We cannot confirm a pregnancy yet until the results of a blood test, but we can confirm the formation of a uterus now with an ultrasound.” Dax took a deep breath. “...Okay. Do whatever you have to do, I guess... I need to know.” “When was the last time you ate or drank, by the way?” Sydryn asked. “I had water on the way down, but I haven't eaten anything since last night, at like 8pm,” Dax answered. “How much did you drink and have you urinated since drinking today?” “Uh, maybe half a litre? And no. Is that bad?” “No, a full bladder is ideal to lift the organ we are looking for. A full litre is ideal, but we should be fine. I will have to press which may cause some discomfort.” “Okay.” “Alright. Please lean back and lift you shirt. Unbutton your pants as well,” Sydryn directed as they got up to start the ultrasound machine. Dax did as instructed and they proceeded with the ultrasound. Syd was able to confirm the uterus as well as a thickening of the uterine lining. Afterwards, they drew a sample of Dax's blood. “It will take some time, but this has been prioritised so you should hear from me tonight or tomorrow,” Sydryn explained, as they put away the test tubes. “Do you have any questions for me?” “If I am pregnant, what do I do?” Dax said. “Can I even really have a baby? Like, carry to term?” “The research is new, however yourself and Jeffrey's family are not the first to have been exposed to this particular Prilarian contraband,” Sydryn stated. “So far, all who've taken it and carried out a pregnancy have carried healthily to term.” Dax blanched. “And if I don't want a baby?” “You have all the same options as any other pregnant person,” Sydryn said. “Since we have not confirmed a pregnancy as of yet, you should abstain from receiving unprotected anal penetration during intercourse. If you have done so within the last 72 hours, you can take a morning after pill.” “I haven't,” Dax said. “But will I have a uterus forever now?” “No, if you are not pregnant, it should pass within a month. The same would occur after a pregnancy,” Sydryn said. “We can go over the details of that later, once we have your results.” Dax nodded slowly. “Okay...” “Did you have a talk with the therapist like we discussed last time?” Syd asked. “No, not yet...” Sydryn woke up their computer. “Let's make you an appointment to come talk with me, how about that?” “Uh, sure,” Dax agreed, nodding. “Monday at 1pm?” Dax took out his phone out and opened his calendar. “Sounds good.” “I will be calling you as well as soon as I have a result for you,” Syd reminded, getting up. “How are you feeling? Do you think you'll be alright for now?” “Yeah, I'll be fine,” Dax assured getting up as well. “This is just...a lot to take in.” “I understand.” “Well, I wouldn't be surprised about Jeffrey, but his cousin,” Dax inquired as he started walking out. “Is he alright? I imagine he's been taking that stuff for a while without knowing...” “I can't share such information on my other patients,” Sydryn stated as they escorted him. “Ah, yeah... Maybe I'll try to contact them,” Dax said. “Nathan should have Jeffrey's number...” “I wouldn't stress yourself with their well-being for now,” Sydryn said. “You should take some time to yourself. Relax.” “I just, I don’t know if it's the teacher in me, but I worry about those kids,” Dax said. “I don’t know if you know, but I taught Jeffrey in high school. A good teacher cares about all their students.” Sydryn placed a hand on Dax's shoulder. “That is admirable, but he is not your student anymore. Neither of them are your responsibility.” “I know...” When they got to the lobby, Reid was sitting waiting for Dax. He got up as soon as he saw them. “So? How did it go? Is he dying, doc?” Sydryn furrowed their brow. “You're here for Dax?” “No, I thought I'd come in for a shift,” Reid said sarcastically. “Aye, I made sure to get him here in good time. We're friends now, you know.” Sydryn sighed. “We’ll have a talk about that later, but anyway, are you driving him home?” “Well actually, he drove us here,” Reid said. “Why? Should he not drive? I can drive if I have to. You didn't answer if he's dying or not.” “He's not dying,” Sydryn stated. “He can drive, but you, however, are not clear to drive yet.” “I'd like to talk about that, actually.” “Bring it up in our meeting on Monday,” Sydryn said turning to go back to the exam rooms. Reid patted Dax's back. “You alright? What'd Syd tell you?” Dax sighed. “I'll tell you on the drive back, alright?” “Sure, sure. Let's go then.”

[consumeconstantly]

Lady Cross (first aid)

Summary: Somehow, Marinette always ends up biting off more than she can chew. It started off with a kid and a nasty gash on their knee. The sudden escalation to treating the new head of Gotham’s underworld? It can only be explained by the fact that she’s catnip for trouble. 

_____________________________________________

Marinette supposed she should have expected something like this to happen eventually.

Really, she patches up a few street kids and offers a meal and some resources and suddenly she's made a name for herself in the slums of Gotham. It’s not like she’s doing anything revolutionary. Well, okay, maybe she does cheat a little bit and uses her healing powers on a few of the tougher cases that really should have been out of her realm of expertise, but she’s living near the slums of Gotham for a reason. That reason being Marinette is just a little broke and can’t really afford to send everyone she comes across to the hospital, and the people who are injured certainly can’t. It’s not like she can leave them to die. That would be heartless.

When she stopped treating scrapes and cuts for kids on the streets as she came across them and instead found her apartment balcony frequented by families who needed her help, she couldn’t just say no. And so, more and more serious wounds started coming in. Kids brought their parents and friends. The parents and friends brought... well, if the police stopped by her apartment any time soon, she’s fairly certain they’d have a field day.

But again, it’s not like she’s going to turn these people into the police when they’ve come to her for help and have a small army of people who swear up and down that they’re good people and only doing what they have to do in order to get by.

Morality comes in such a variety of shades, who was she to judge? Ladybug and Marinette have both certainly had their fair share of mistakes that they’d gladly go back in time to rectify, and her hands weren’t clean of blood either. Sure, the Miraculous Cure may have brought people back, but their deaths were still on her. And Hawkmoth? Yeah, he’s alive now, but she hammered him into the pavement after dropping him from the top of the Eiffel tower, and she’s not going to pretend that she didn’t take a bit of morbid joy in that moment.

But back to the matter at hand. Which was, the notorious Red Hood—responsible for a coup amongst Gotham’s drug dealers and responsible for taking down a man whose morality truly vanished with the wind, Black Mask himself— was currently bleeding out on her second floor balcony, smoking a cigarette and lounging against the rail like he owned the place. 

“Lady Cross,” he inclined his head.

“Red Hood,” Marinette returned his greeting.

God, she really didn’t want to get involved with Red Hood. She wasn’t opposed to helping out street thugs and criminals, but Red Hood was a different league. He seemed to be a fairly decent guy, ensuring that kids weren’t dealt drugs and tried to keep them out of the circuit as much as possible. He took down plenty of worse criminals while he was at it. In fact, Marinette would go so far to say the Red Hood as one the good guys.

But the issue was, once she started treating people of a certain level, she’d be open game. And that didn’t seem very enticing to her. Not at all. Everyone knew that Red Hood had beef with the Bat Family for some reason or other, and also made enemies with almost every single rogue in Gotham, and a good number of enemies outside of it as well. Basically, Red Hood was a universal enemy of both the vigilantes and rogues. Someone she shouldn’t get involved with while she was trying to investigate the darkness surrounding Gotham whole running her online boutique and going to college at Gotham University.

Unfortunately, Tom and Sabine and her own stint as Ladybug taught her that she could never ignore someone in need. Marinette sighed and slid the mesh open, leading Red Hood to her living room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Real nice place you got here,” he said.

With the mask covering the whole of his face, Marinette had no facial expressions to figure out whether he was poking fun at her current living situation or not. His voice sounded genuine, but vocal emotions were easy to fake.

The apartment she was living in was not on the nice side of town. There were three bullet holes in the wall between her living room and bedroom that she just didn’t have time to patch up, some pretty nasty looking stains on the ceiling near her kitchen, and a huge, spray painted red cross on one of her walls, which was where her street name derived from. Her floor and coffee table were also in states of disarray; she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to clean up after working on two commissions and the last guest whose wounds were heavy enough to warrant several rolls of gauze, which was now half stuffed into a garbage can sitting next to rolls of fabric. Perhaps not the neatest or most sanitary situation, but she didn’t have time to clean up before every single one of her unexpected guests came in.

Look, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have time to fix things up real nice and neat. She’d only been living in the apartment for a month and a half, and most times, she barely spent any time in it other than to sleep, cram last minute projects for her design course, or to help heal people. Her living situation wasn’t the biggest of worries.

“Sit,” Marinette gestured to the one of the few pieces of furniture that she specifically bought for the apartment. She didn’t mind the stained, half broken, and extremely creaky couch the last owners left behind for the first week, but after she started bringing back her first… visitors, it seemed important that the couch was comfortable, sturdy, and most crucially, cleanable.

Rummaging through a cabinet, she pulled out a tattered briefcase she thrifted a while back to keep all of her medical supplies in. Not the prettiest of things, but she tried not to keep expensive looking items in her apartment because she wasn’t a fan of getting mugged. The medicine she kept was already expensive enough, she didn’t need to attract everyone’s attention by owning one of those metal containers used in hospitals. Even though most of the people who dropped by her apartment were thankful to be treated, she had a few instances where people tried to steal things from her.

“What’s the damage, doc?” Red Hood’s voice came through rather tinny through his helmet. 

Marinette grimaced. The helmet must have awful air circulation. It looked like some sort of metal, and wet and metal never smelled good together. “I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Thought you were supposed to be some mystic healer who came from the far east.”

She paused and looked at the man, trying to judge whether he was racist as well as rude. “That’s rather insulting.” 

Red Hood shrugged. Marinette applauded the man for showing no outward sign of pain at that, even though there was a bullet embedded in his shoulder, and shrugging had to bite. “That’s what the word on the street is, though you sound French to me. Thought I’d come and check out who’s healing Gotham’s criminals. What’re you planning?”

“Sorry to foil your plans, but I’m not planning anything other than getting my college degree and not pissing off the people I live near.” She paused, flipping the lock on the briefcase upwards. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your go to healer from now on. You’re going to bring trouble my way.”

“Trouble? Me? Perish the thought.” His hand rested comfortably on the holister of his gun, ready to shoot if the girl pulled out a weapon from the briefcase. “We’ll talk about repeat appearances after I see how you do today.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Any wounds other than the obvious?”

“Just need the bullet out, and some stitches on the gash.” His shoulder and his abdomen, respectively. The gash looked nastier than the bullet; no shrapnel, but the cut on his stomach was jagged and wide. Not a normal, sharp blade. Probably needed a good cleaning.

She grabbed the tweezers, a sterilized needle, and medical thread. “That’s fine. Now are you going to undress, or am I going to have to cut your… costume… up?”

“Getting me naked already? We haven’t even had our first date yet.”

“Very funny, little Red Riding Hood. Now hop to it. I have class at 9 tomorrow and projects to finish tonight.” Somehow, trouble always seemed to find her when she least wanted it to. Not that she wanted to have trouble find her at all, but luck was a two way street, and for all that being Ladybug granted her good luck, she attracted criminals like catnip. 

“And here my informants had me thinking you were a regular Florence Nightingale.”

Marinette snorted. “They wish. I’ve got to ask who told you, because everybody should know the rules. You know, the ones where they don’t speak of my existence to their higher ups?”

“I’m not a rat,” Red Hood said, taking the top part of his outfit off. “And it’s not like you would have gone unnoticed anyways. You might be treating small timers now, but people catch on to healers pretty easy.”

“Because some gauze and sewing skills make me such a prime target.”

“No, your magic does.”

Shit. Marinette never told anyone she was using magic, and she rarely used it unless it was a dire situation. If she could patch them up using regular skills, she did. 

“Yeah right, if I had magic healing powers, do you think I’d be shoving my fingers into your shoulder to get a bullet out?”

“Not a very good liar, Lady Cross. You have this deer-caught-in-the-headlights look about you.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I’m also the deer that tramples through your windshield and takes a dump on the driver’s seat.” She maneuvered the tweezers a little rougher, hoping to make Red Hood hiss in pain. He just chuckled, amused. His high pain tolerance was getting rather annoying. She had half a mind to pour hydrogen peroxide over the wound just to see if that would make him show he was in pain, but thought better of it. Even though she didn’t like the man, she also didn’t want to piss him off. Or worse, have him come back and make her fix him up again. 

Threading the needle, she made quick, small stitches on his shoulder, sewing the bullet hole up, then put some petroleum jelly to speed up the healing process and reduce scarring. At least the wound was in a position that didn’t require a lot of gauze. She needed to go out and buy some more soon. She barely had enough to wrap around Red Hood’s waist.

“So, the magic,” Red Hood started. “Is it a conditional thing? Can you not use it all the time?”

“Again, I don’t have magic.” Marinette did have to use some antibacterial on the knife wound. He would need to take good care of that one to make sure it didn’t get infected. 

“So a meta, then. What are you doing in Gotham? Everybody knows Batman hates metas.”

“Not a meta, either, sorry to disappoint.” She tied off the gauze, then stood to wash her hands. “Make sure to clean the stomach wound well. Hope you have your tetanus shot, otherwise you should look into getting one.”

“Surprisingly, I’m inclined to believe you on the not-a-meta thing. Back to the first thing, then. Magic. Why don’t you show me the old razzle dazzle? Do you have to say one of those weird spells like the godmother in Cinderella? Bibbity bobbity boo?”

“You’re hilarious,” Marinette dead panned. 

“How’s this for magic? Bibbity bobbity boo, kindly leave. Shoo.” She followed his suggestion, made a show of jazz hands as well. “Pity I don’t use magic otherwise you’d be gone now. Anyways, it’s time for you to make your exit. It would be great if you didn't visit me again. Ever. Thanks.”

She ushered him out onto her patio, then slammed the sliding door. He saluted her before dropping off the side of the building. She could imagine the man under the helmet smirking.

Marinette ran a hand through her loose hair. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

[wornoutmouse]

Im making this gender neutral cause I feel like I did pretty damn good here. And it had a bit of a fairytale ending but I couldn't figure how else to tie it up prettily

Also tried of tumbler adding gaps to all the paragraphs when i copy and paste from docs to here so y'all just gonna have to deal. this fic is way too damn long for me to fix it like i normally do

Also i went over the aparent limit so just look for the words "pt2" in green for the extension

Letting go is one of the hardest things one can do. But understanding why you had to let go is harder.

You and Izuku knew each other for the longest time. Hell you were the one that lifted him back up when Bakugou knocked him down. So why…. Why after all that were you not good enough?

He never said you weren't, he'd never do that. But the worthlessness you felt as you watched her hand him a love letter. You thought, he won't accept, afterall she's one of the many girls and guys that had confessed since the beginning of U.A. Hell you were surprised Ochaco even had the guts to confess.

But the small blush and smile that overcame his face as he finished reading the letter, was one you've never seen before. In that moment you wished you'd decline coming with him for support.

The sick feeling in your stomach grew larger as they hugged each other tightly. That sickness translated into a smile when he looked back at you.

From then on, your sunny disposition was a fabrication of what once was. You didn't hate her, you even saw the appeal, having the slightest crush on her as well. You just hated that he chose her. Was the years of companionship worthless?

As the two grew closer, you grew farther and buried yourself in training and school work. Days went by, months, and by the time graduation came, you were all 3rd years.  You and Deku had become nothing more than aquaintences.

The others tried to stop your descent into isolation, Including you in everything they did, ut it wasn't the same.

"Hey Y/n." You wiped your sweat with the towel around your neck. You'd been at it for most of the day and had shed most of your clothes. Izuku was dressed casual for once and looked gorgeous in the setting sun.

"Yes Midoriya?" Ouch. When did you start calling him that? You couldn't quite remember. Deku looked over the trees, green hair blowing with fall wind. "You know we haven't hung out in a while." You took a drink of water as you sat on a fallen log. "Oh really?" 

That came out harsher than needed and you both knew it. "Since we are graduating tomorrow, I was wondering if you would join us for once as a last farewell. 

You didn't miss the undertone in the last comment. Deku watched in silence as you put your tank top back on. "I don't think I can make it."

Izuku's fists clenched as he glared at the floor. "Why?" You eyed his fists,"I have other things to do." Deku scoffed, "Give me a break, school is over what more do you have to do?!" "More important stuff than partying."

There was a change in the air and at the last minute, you jumped back as Deku's foot slammed down in the floor causing a sizable crater. "Stop lying Y/N! What could you possibly have to do that's more important than hanging out with your friends?! Don't you understand that this is the last time we'll have this much free time to see each other!?"

A small smirk crawled onto your face. 'Still a crybaby huh?'  tears trailed down Deku's face as he looked at you, "We haven't talked in years y/n." You would not break, this was for the best, you would not fall back into this cycle. "We talked this morning." "Hello is not a conversation y/n"

"What do you want me to do then Izuku?" 

Nothing, just like you expected. "Listen Deku, Sometimes, people grow apart and..." You have to take a deep breath, cause if you don't you'd break all over again. "Sometimes we just have to accept it." 

Izuku says nothing more and leaves, heartheavy. During the party,  Izuku spent his time with Uraraka, both day-dreaming about their future, though Izuku wasn't as engaged as he usually was. You sat alone in the common room, looking down at the feastivities below. Mr. Aizawa was the only one who noticed.

As a pro hero you stayed in a moderate range in regards to popularity. About the same level that Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods used to be. 

Watching Bakugou and Midoriya's ranking teeter back and forth like hot potato was amusing as the fiery blond would call you to complain since he knew you would simply listen.

Your love life was non-existent besides the occasional fling with a cute chick at a bar or a himbo™ at the local gym. You weren't looking for anything sold anyways and that was not only due to your hero work, but because no one peaks your interests.

The gang of course flocked together in regards to their love lives. Kaminari and Jiro were finally a thing. Momo and Todoroki were dropping hints to each other but they are both a bunch of oblivious bimbos and that is not going to change anytime soon. 

Tsu and surprisingly Mineta prefered the bachelor life and worked hard on building their teams. You were greatly surprised when Mineta asked you to come to his house and genuinely asked your opinion on trainees. 

Unlike the rest, Mina, Kirishima and Bakugou, were trying to figure out the ins and outs of a poly relationship. Bakgou of course being the word if reason as the other two goofed around.

 All was in its place as you all conformed to your new adult lives. You had no faint clue where the other boys were besides Kouji's and Satou's engagement.

It was a Thursday evening when you walked into your condo, shuffling through your mail until a white envelope with gold trimming for your attention. 

You are invited….

Of course how could you forget Deku and Uraraka. When was the last time you saw those two? Most likely the last day of school. How the hell did they get your address?

You tossed the envelope on the couch and walked to your kitchen to get a bottle of wine. You spent that evening drinking the petty thoughts away, altering between cursing Ochako, to reminiscing on how they were truly a match made in heaven.

By 4 in the evening, you were beyond tipsy and could barely stand to answer the door when the bell rung. 

"Whatdoya want Midoriya?" You said, leaning a little too far to the left. Deku looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you drunk y/n?" Your roll your eyes and turn around, walking back into your home. "What does it look like?" 

You slump on the couch as Deku walks throughout your home. He was alot bigger  than you remembered. His curly green hair was almost touching your ceiling as he looked at your disheveled body.

"I'm just here to make sure you got my invitation." You tug the envelope from where it fell between the cushion and wavs it in front of your face. Izuku acknowledged it as he sat down, "Well are you coming?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you reach for your glass. Izuku tried to take it away and you smack his hand. Even though you could taste the unresolved tension, you wanted to make things a bit lighter. "I don't know deku, what's the theme? If it's green then I can't come, you know that clashes with my complexion."

He doesn't laugh, not even a smile. Oh well not your problem. The bottle is empty much to your disappointment as you held the opening over your mouth. Deku sits there, fists on his knees as he makes a conflicted face. "How many bottles have you drunk?"

You slap his back, slightly impressed that his solid form didn't move. "Oh calm down worry wort!" A lazy grin comes over your face and a teasing tone slips into your voice. "I'm not an alcoholic...mmm, yet."

You both sat in silence, Deku swirling in his own emotions for  seeing you this way. You looked completely fine on the surface but he knew you better. They all knew you better. Bakugou's weekly gossip visits were nothing more than a check on your personal health.  Even Mineta had to pitch in.

"Hey Deku?" You looked off into thin air as you spoke but Izuku hung off your every word. 

"Can you kiss me?"

Deku didn't mean to stand up the way he did. You didn't react, you expected it if anything. "Y/n, you know I can't do that. Why would you even ask!?" You rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of the smallest threat of tears. You weren't an emotional drunk and you weren't going to start being one now.

"Mm just thought that if you did, maybe I could get over this fuzzy feeling in ma'chest." Deku blushed, from what you. didn't know, but you did notice how he sat back next to you, closer than before. "If I do…..will you come?"

I was going to come either way idiot

"I'll think about it."

Your lidded eyes picked up on the smallest movements and you shivered as Izuku held your chin between his fingers. The kiss was gentle and nothing more than a simple press. You would have been fine with that, that's all you wanted. What you weren't expecting was for Deku to continue.

You could feel your chest flair with the familiar discomfort of things being out of your control. His rough hands came home to your face as he deepened the kiss. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip and he took that chance to delve deeper.

No

You pushed him away and stood. You both looked at each other, darkened eyes and veins fluttering with adrenaline. "Why?" you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked. Izuku held his fist over his heart where you pushed him. "I..I did what you asked." You shook your head.

No, no this is wrong

Izuku stands up and tries to console you. The words that left his lips unrecognizable.

It's over isn't it?

"Y/n calm down please and let's talk." You put your hands over your ears. "You're so selfish." You wheezed. Why was the room getting darker?

It's over isn't it?

Strong hands grip your arms and you scrape them off. "Get out."

You won and he chose you

As a last resort, Deku tries to kiss you again, holding you close back your lower back, even daring to nibble your lips as he pulls away. "Y/n can you please focus!?" Why was he making it worse? You are not a home wrecker!!

And he loves you so he's gone

Izuku helplessly watched you fall into your own thoughts as you gripped the wall so hard your knuckles turned white. 

It's over isn't it?

You blindly stumble into your room and close the door, falling against it.

Why can't I move on?

Izuku tested his forehead against the door, trying to listen for any sign of life, even a heart beat. On the other side you fall into a dreamless sleep.

War and Glory

It rained on their wedding day. And in the worst way possible or made the ceremony even more beautiful as light drops of water tangled itself in Uraraka's veil. 

The pictures were to die for and so was the food. "Y/n come on, take a picture with me!" You sip some champagne and prepare yourself for your sin  free facade as you walk over to the new bride.

Her dress was gorgeous yet modest, one would confuse this gathering for a party since you were forced to wear white  with her and Deku despite you explaining  how weddings worked.

You kneeled to adjust to her height as she held the camera the highest she could. "You want me to do it?"  You took the phone and held it above you. Ochaco pouted as you dwarfed her and gripped her small hands on the front of your clothes.

She smelt of strawberry's and soap. 

Reinvention

Before you could pull away, she tugged your down as she came to whisper in your ear. "I know." She pulled away with the same small smile she wore since the day began. Your face mirrored one of fright and she quickly noticed.

She raised her hands in surrender as she tried to calm you down. "Hey what's that face for, it's fin-" you flinched as she reached out to touch you. Backing up, you ran into Deku who quickly held onto you to prevent you from falling.

You do your best to calmly untangle yourself from him, but subsequently jumping away as if you were on fire. The newly weds shared a look and you shivered as they both narrowed their eyes at you. Focused the same way they were when on a mission.

Fusion

Walking through the crowd of fans and distant family was no hard feat as you headed to the hotel the wedding was taking place behind. The two followed you and you tried your damnedest not to simply run.

You had almost made it out conservation free but Deku's hand quickly slapped on the side of the door before you could close it and he forced his way in as a limping Ochaco followed behind. "Come on Y/N, these heels are uncomfortable!" 

You could feel tears falling down your face as you backed away from the two. It wasn't out of fear, but shame. Shame that you had feelings for your friend. Shame that you kissed a taken and engaged man. Shame that his  wife knew.

"Y/n calm down it's fine, I don't mind!" You looked at her with confusion and bristled as Deku came closer. "I told her the day after it happened." You focus on Ochaco, preparing yourself for any physical attacks the small woman might deem necessary. "I'm sorry Ochaco, I-I didn't mean for it t-to happen."

Anger at the memory filled your brain and you almost didn't notice small hands taking hold of yours.

Her attention

"It's okay Y/N." Ochaco smiled warmly at you, bringing your hands to her lips as she kissed them gently. "I don't mind, infact this was the goal for a long time." You look at Deku for some coherent conversation, "What is she talking about."

Izuku blushed, "We've been trying to get your attention since highschool. We knew how you felt and didn't mind you joining us like Kachan, Kiri, and Mina." A steely gaze with the power of Aizawa's death glare, casted over Izuku's face, "But you kept running."

Ochaco waved her hands to divert the sudden hostile energy. "Anyways, we were planning on announcing it at the flower toss." Ochaco reached into her bussom and pulled out a small jewelry case. Inside it held a silver ring, strikingly similar to the one she now wore on her left hand.

"I know we really haven't got to get to know each other that well. And I know your feelings don't lie for me but, if you would like…" Deku gingerly plucked the ring from Uraraka's hands and the both lowered to their knees. (Ochaco with more effort as the fluff of her dress almost tipped her over)

Oop looks like i went over the limit?

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Dr. Alchemy/Dr. Albert Desmond/Mr. Element

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Dr. Albert Desmond, also known as Dr. Alchemy and Mr. Element. Patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. Session One. So, Dr. Desmond, how are you feeling? 

Dr. Alchemy: Go away. I’m reading. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, I promise that you will be able to return to your books as soon as this session is over. But for right now, I need you to talk to me. 

Dr. Alchemy: I am not interested in conversation. Leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid I cannot do that, Dr. Desmond. As your psychologist, I have a responsibility to maintain your well-being. 

Dr. Alchemy: I have read countless books on the subject of psychology, Dr. Strange. There is nothing you can teach me that I do not already know. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, this is not about knowledge. It is about helping you to live a more productive life. 

Dr. Alchemy: Dr. Desmond would likely appreciate the sentiment, but he isn’t here right now. So please, leave me to my studies. I have important work to do, and no time for idle chatter. 

Hugo Strange: I take it I am speaking to one of Dr. Desmond’s alters, then? 

Dr. Alchemy: Yes. I am Doctor Alchemy. Now kindly go away and leave me alone. 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Dr. Alchemy. As your psychologist, it would be irresponsible of me not to hold these therapy sessions with you. 

Dr. Alchemy: You are not my psychologist; you are Dr. Desmond’s psychologist. Dr. Desmond is not here right now, so you have no responsibilities in this room. Go away. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Alchemy, you and Dr. Desmond share the same body, and are fragmented parts of the same basic personality. Medically and legally, both of you are my patients...as are any other alters that may exist. 

Dr. Alchemy: Be that as it may, I have nothing to say to you. Go away.

Hugo Strange: (Sighs) If I arrange to have some more rare books delivered to your room, will you agree to participate in the session, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: (Pleased) Yes. Thank you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) What do you want to know? 

Hugo Strange: According to your files, you are a very educated man. You have PhDs in chemistry, biochemistry, and molecular biology. You could easily earn money legitimately...and, in fact, Dr. Desmond does just that in his career at S.T.A.R. Labs. Why, then, did you choose to become a costumed criminal? 

Dr. Alchemy: Research is expensive, Dr. Strange. How else was I to fund my experiments? 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond usually asks for grant money. 

Dr. Alchemy: Only because he wastes our talents on safe, predictable work. I, on the other hand, push the boundaries of established science. That frightens the complacent and the simple-minded, and as such, they dismiss my work as lunacy and refuse to help me in my endeavors to expand humanity’s understanding of the cosmos. 

Hugo Strange: Even if that is true, Dr. Alchemy, your file indicates that you are a metahuman with the power to transmute the elements at will. Why not use that power to create gold or silver, sell it for a profit, and use that to fund your experiments? 

Dr. Alchemy: And debase my powers by using them for something as mundane as earning petty cash from the mindless multitudes? Never. 

Hugo Strange: But you’re perfectly willing to use those same powers to steal money from the same mindless multitude? 

Dr. Alchemy: Of course. I am the lord of the very elements! It is my right to take whatever I desire. 

Hugo Strange: You are stealing! Like a common thief! 

Dr. Alchemy: A common thief could not turn your blood into formaldehyde, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Was that a threat, Dr. Alchemy? 

Dr. Alchemy: No, not a threat. Merely a reminder of your position. 

Hugo Strange: (Angry) Let me make one thing clear, Dr. Alchemy. When you were sent here, you were, effectively, declared a ward of the state. I am the head of this Asylum. I want to help you, but if you prove to be a threat to me, the other patients, or the staff, I will authorize that you be put on a regime of enough antipsychotic drugs to all but kill your conscious mind. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quiet laugh) And break your Hippocratic Oath by sentencing poor Dr. Desmond to a living death? I don’t believe you have that in you, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: (Icily) To prevent one of the most powerful metahumans in the world from laying waste to this institution? There is very little I would not do, Dr. Alchemy. Metahuman power dampeners have a very limited effect on you, and I am not enough of a fool to rely solely on your goodwill to keep you in check. 

Dr. Alchemy: (Quickly) In that case, I rescind my reminder. 

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Alchemy. (Pause) So tell me, what is your relationship with your city’s scarlet-clad vigilante? 

Dr. Alchemy: The Flash? He’s an impediment to my research, nothing more. 

Hugo Strange: And your decision to put on a costume was in no way inspired by him? 

Dr. Alchemy: Perhaps on some level. But he means nothing to me. Dr. Desmond is the one who cares about him. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, will you permit me to speak with Dr. Desmond? 

Dr. Alchemy: Certainly not. That weak-willed fool would only interfere with my studies. 

Dr. Hugo Strange: If you cooperate, I’ll see what I can do about getting you a first-edition copy of The Grapes of Wrath. 

Dr. Alchemy: Very well. If I can find Dr. Desmond, I’ll let him know that he wishes to speak with you. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Are you all right, Dr. Alchemy? 

Albert: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy’s) W-where am I? What’s going on? 

Hugo Strange: (Realizing) Is this Dr. Albert Desmond? 

Albert: Y-yes. (Pause) Who are you? What is this place? What am I doing here? 

Hugo Strange: I am Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. What is the last thing you remember, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: I...I was at home with my wife, Rita. She was making dinner, and I felt a headache coming on, so I went outside to get some fresh air and-(Pause) Oh, no. It happened again, didn’t it? 

Hugo Strange: I’m afraid so, Dr. Desmond. A week ago, Dr. Alchemy was captured by the Flash whilst attempting to turn an entire stadium’s worth of people into tungsten. Since Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of holding metahuman criminals, it was decided that he should be transferred to Arkham Asylum, pending his trial. 

Albert: Not again...not again!  It’s been three years since the last time. I thought that the nightmare was finally over. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, the courts are aware of your… highly unusual...form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. You will almost certainly be declared not guilty by reason of insanity. 

Albert: And then they’ll lock me away in a hospital instead of a prison. Rita and I...we have a baby son! Is he going to grow up with his father shut away in a mental institution? (Pause) I should have had her divorce me. At least that way she wouldn’t be raising our son all by herself. And she wouldn’t have to worry about both her and the baby being murdered by a costumed maniac! 

Hugo Strange: Neither of your alters have ever actually murdered someone, Dr. Desmond. 

Albert: No. But from what I’ve been told, it hasn’t been from lack of trying. (Pause) I let her marry me. I knew what I was, and I let her marry a monster. 

Hugo Strange: You are not a monster, Dr. Desmond. Your family members, the police and judicial departments of Central City, and even your city’s costumed vigilante all swear as to your good moral character. 

Albert: Good moral character? Dr. Strange, both of my alters are criminals; which means that there’s a part of me...there’s a part of me that wants to do the things they do. If there wasn’t, surely I would have been able to get rid of them by now. The fact that I haven’t proves that I don’t have good morals. 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond, do you ever remember the actions of your alters? 

Albert: Almost never. (Pause) I usually end up finding out about it after the fact. You have no idea how horrible it is to have someone tell you that your body went on a crime spree that you don’t remember anything about. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, you have dissociative amnesia during the periods in which your alters are dominant. (Pause) Do you make an effort to prevent your alters from emerging, Dr. Desmond? 

Albert: Of course I do! I take medication, I exercise, I ensure that I always get a full night’s rest, I go to therapy….I don’t want to be a monster. 

Hugo Strange: A monster wouldn’t battle his illness in the way that you do, Dr. Desmond. You are not a monster. You are ill, and through no fault of your own. 

Albert: I...I wish I could believe that, Dr. Strange. (Pause) But honestly? I’m starting to think that maybe I should just be locked up forever. It would...it would be better for everyone. 

(Long pause) 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Desmond? Dr. Desmond, are you all right? 

Mr. Element: (in a voice that is similar to, but distinguishable from, Dr. Alchemy and Albert’s voices) I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, Doc.

Hugo Strange: Who are you? And what happened to Dr. Desmond? 

Mr. Element: Nothing. I just decided to take control. It seems that Doc Alchemy’s actions have caused him to almost give up hope completely this time, and that meant he couldn’t put up much of a fight against me. (Pause) Thanks for getting Doc Alchemy to give up control voluntarily, by the way. You have no idea how tough it is to win fights for control with that guy. 

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re Mr. Desmond’s other alter? 

Mr. Element: That’s right, Doc. You can call me Mr. Element. 

Hugo Strange: Not Dr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Nah. The other two got most of the brains, I’m afraid. It’s why I’m not as powerful as either one of ‘em. (Pause) Not that you’d know it from looking at Albert, of course. He’s got no idea how powerful he really is. He’s even more powerful than Doc Alchemy! 

Hugo Strange: I suppose that that makes a certain amount of sense. Dr. Desmond is, after all, the personality from which the two of you split off. Perhaps that allows him to mainline the power, so to speak. (Pause) So, Mr. Element, why do you commit crimes in a silly costume? 

Mr. Element: To get money and attention. Doc Alchemy could care less about that sort of thing, and Albert’s too much of a goody-good to admit that he wants either, so it’s up to me to make sure people remember us. 

Hugo Strange: And the costume, was it inspired by the Flash? 

Mr. Element: No. It was based on our fascination with elements. The mask was so that I could inhale pure oxygen; I used a carbon atom as my symbol because life has its basis in carbon-you get the idea. Albert’s the one who has an emotional connection to the Speedster. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes. Dr. Alchemy said the same thing. (Pause) So, are either you or Dr. Alchemy Rogues, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: No. Doc Alchemy and I both prefer to work solo. Besides, I think the Doc kind of freaks them out. 

Hugo Strange: Are there any particular concerns you want to talk to me about, Mr. Element? 

Mr. Element: Not really. Albert’s the one with the hang-ups. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, I am going to bring this session to a close. I need some time to reflect on your case and how to best treat it. It is noticeably abnormal, and I will need to adjust my strategies accordingly.