Forgot to mention last night

That I uploaded the first couple of chapters to TWC2 at Fanfiction.net! Voici:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2460894/1/TWC_2_Sea_Of_Green

Please review! :)

Probably won't have notes for a while yet since I like to write them as I revise, at the end of a fic (or at least after revisiting them), but once I finish notes for AAE we'll see what comes out. :) Besides, since I want to get this one done quickly... well, we'll see, like I said.

If Only I Don't Suffocate

Does anyone else want to write Epic Fanfic based on "Bend Or Break" by Keane? Surely not just me. (Not for DWD, though, it doesn't strike me with the right tone.)

Anyway! I have the next batch of notes for AAE here, would've had them sooner but I only unpacked and set up my home computer this week since we moved a month ago. :)P Here's the lengthy blabfest for Act I, Chapter 1!

***

References:

- "The Music Man"; as I said, Irene Webfoot is a nod to Mrs. Paroo from this musical. The line "an' yer changin' the subject" is a callback to the one song that Mrs. Paroo (kind of) sings on, an argument between her and her daughter where she is accused of changing the subject herself.
- "Donnie Darko" is the source of 'Yarn Barn', which is where Donnie's older sister works.

Man, there is stuff in here that I had forgotten I had already started by this point. Somehow that makes me feel awful. I didn't realize I was writing the therapy stuff this early... This fic just went on forever, didn't it? :P Not to mention I originally had Beth thinking how at this rate she'll need a month before she can see LP and Drake again... and then she's actually gone for nearly *two* months. Ay yi yi. The time got away from me, what can I say... I changed the line to "six months" just so it's less obvious. :P (And then I mention it here because I LIKE TO MAKE MYSELF LOOK DUMB apparently)

First scene with Beth and Irene, in which Beth immediately has no patience for her mother... Which I hope doesn't make her look unpleasant. I find it realistic. I know a number of adult women who respond this way to their mothers' well-meaning but nosy questions, and I'm NOT just referring to myself. ;) On the other hand, Beth isn't meant to be 100% in the right here, either.

And our total introduction to Candy! Candy is someone who took me a while to get to know. I had the idea for the scene between Candy and Beth towards the end quite early on, but I didn't really start to understand her as a character for a while. She remained a bit of a villain in my mind for a LONG time, which is pretty much what she is in these early scenes, though you can see a glimmer of sisterly love in there if you squint.

Actually, to be honest, Candy is a little bit based on me. I'm an older, rather than younger, sister, and I have perhaps too strong a dose of "I know best" in me. I kind of put that (on steroids, though) into Candy's personality. She goes way farther than I ever would.

I will be going somewhat more into the elements of Beth's personality that we see here; when she's around non-Webfoot people she so avoids confrontation that the idea of her arguing this much may seem completely alien. I'm going to address that in the rewrites of TWC, but I also address it (in a sort of retcon) in this fic and I hope it makes sense.

Dr. Mortimer is one of those names that I kinda picked out of nowhere because it sounded funny. Who knew I'd be writing it in nearly every chapter for the next three years. :P

I also have no idea if it's illegal or not to make an appointment for someone else to go to therapy. I think there are ethical reasons, the same way you can't have someone committed unless they're a danger to themselves or others, but it might not work that way for therapy - in fact I'm almost sure it doesn't but it made for a good way to show the extent of Irene's pushiness.

Beth not caring for waiting rooms is kind of a callback to "Something In The Air" which at the time was a throwaway gag. Deciding to turn throwaway gags into character points - yay! :P

I'm not sure where Beth's mistrust of therapists comes from, but it's a character trait I came up with in the late 90s. Personally I have high regard for the entire profession of psychology and psychiatry, and I ate up the classes I took. (Yep, armchair therapist right here.)

You can see me kind of scrambling to come up with reasons why Beth wouldn't just go in and say "okay, here's what the problem is" and would instead start talking about her life history. There were two reasons I needed the story to go that way: 1, it was intended to be Beth's life history and this was the format I chose to frame it in, and 2, I was actually just as uncomfortable writing Beth talking about DW and Launchpad as Beth was with doing the actual talking, and I took that as a sign that Beth didn't want to do it and that forcing it would be out of character.

Note the brief description of Beth's job. I have never made it clear what she does, and I thought I'd toss that in there to outline it in slightly more detail. It's still quite vague.

Not everything Beth says here to Dr. Mortimer about being happy is entirely true. You know how when you're depressed it seems like everything has always been, and will always be, as bad as it is right then? That's the problem she's having.

I think I've mentioned this before, but Dr. Mortimer's "therapy" idea of having Beth write down her big regrets so that they can discuss them... that's not really any kind of therapy idea I've heard of, and to be honest, I just picked that so that I had a way to roughly divide up the flashbacks in the fic. I wanted it to go more thematically than chronologically, even though most of the flashbacks are in order anyway, but yeah... that's the reason for the "regrets". I thought it might be useful from a discussion perspective, too.

The Ever-Vivacious Head of Kitty Carlisle Says:

"HI everybody! Let's start the game!"

So I'm weak-willed, and thus I'm going to break down and post the scene I've been working on for TWC3's rewrite. It may or may not be the opening to the fic - I haven't decided yet - and it's unbeta'd, but what the heck; it's going to be at least another 3-4 months before I start posting this. :)

SPOILERS ahead if you have not read the original versions! (Why do I bother doing this?) If you haven't read them and don't want to be spoiled, or if you want to wait until after reading the rewrite of TWC2, or have some other reason you want to avoid spoilers, read no further on this entry!

As an aside, I'm wondering if I ought to transport this blog over to Dreamwidth or something, so that I can use cut-tags. I miss cut-tags on this format. ANYway!

A little context for people who aren't familiar with the original version, but want to read onward anyway. In my initial version I reached a point where LP and DW "needed" (in my mind) to come to odds over Beth. Mmm, that's good drama! Well, I actually still feel that way - for one thing, DW is just nasty to her sometimes, and someone needs to defend the poor kid. For another, it's... well, it's still good drama. If done right anyway.

For quite some time though I was worried about writing it - as much as I wanted to do it, I had no idea how to do it without just making it go overboard... How not to make Drake look like an unforgivable jerk, how to keep LP in character, how not to make Beth look like OMGPOORABUSEDBETH!... well, a few weeks ago I was walking from the bus stop to work and a little scene popped into my head and I realized it would work. I could've written it in like three days but it was RIGHT the day before we left to go on vacation to Canada. I worked on it a little while we were there but the distraction level was high. So it's taken me a while to get as far as I have... which isn't all that far... but it's something! Oh, the spoilers are pretty mild; mostly they allude to the fact that Beth gets kidnapped by Bushroot in TWC2, and this together with her being followed by Megavolt convinces Darkwing that she's actually a villainess in disguise. (new twist. *G*)

One last note: I was going to wait on this but I've been getting antsy because of the new comic. I haven't read a single panel of it, and I realized it could be a "game-changer" or something. Well, I tend to get paranoid about my canon, not because I need it to come true but because I don't want to be hugely contradicting something that is now the NEW, ACTUAL canon. Plus the general zeitgeist of DWD right now just makes me want to write a LOT and put it out there. I wish I was connecting better with the public, but at least I'm writing; that's making me happy. :)

So! No further ado; here's the scene in question. I will love any feedback I get!

***

There are many ways in which a hero can protect his city.

The most obvious way, of course, is to defeat the denizens of darkness as they come forward, deducing their diabolical intentions and nullifying the nefarious nogoodniks before they can bring their plans to fruition. After a lifetime of experience, Darkwing Duck had mastered this ability and could do it in his sleep. In fact, he had, but that was another story.

A lesser-known protection, however, is the dedication to constant vigilance. Constant vigilance is what allows the very best heroes to not only thwart the very worst plans of the very worst villains as they unfold, but to act preemptively, eliminating threats before they have a chance to strike. Constant vigilance is the way in which the very best vigilantes monitor potential subjects and catch them *before* they are able to perpetrate any wrongdoing.

Constant vigilance, and a healthy dose of intuition, are among the weapons at the disposal of the peak heroes of the world - the creme de la creme, if you will.

Darkwing Duck's intuition had led him to watch a certain newcomer into his life very closely. He was, in fact, ready to place her on the "constant vigilance" list. At first glance, Beth Webfoot was harmless: shy, bespectacled, and interested only in hardware and the occasional babysitting gig. But after a series of odd events, all of which had seemed to involve her in one way or another, Darkwing's intuition had begun to tell him that this woman needed watching.

She seemed to attract supervillains like a magnet, for one thing. There was that, which of itself was suspicious, but add to it the fact that she was worming her way into his family life... coincidence? How big of a coincidence would it have to be for an honestly harmless woman to meet him, get hired to babysit his daughter, and via totally-unrelated means bump into not one but *two* of his most dangerous arch-enemies?

That would be one big coincidence, Darkwing believed. Too big.

Plus there was something about her that just *bugged* him.

A generic background search hadn't turned up any information, and as a result Gosalyn and Launchpad were telling him he was being irrational. So, all that meant was that Beth Webfoot was very, very crafty - and probably using an alias. He'd have to probe deeper.

Some might say that it was faulty logic for Darkwing Duck to allow a suspected supervillain to babysit his daughter several nights a week, but Darkwing believed in the wise old adage, "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer." He was on guard, and so he didn't believe Gosalyn was in any genuine danger. From what he could see, Beth was sounding him out as much as he was sounding her out. He was confident that he'd be able to track her movements well enough to know before she was about to strike.

Meanwhile, he had the advantage: surprise, and foreknowledge. She clearly had no idea that he knew, and while he was being cagey, he could also play her like a fiddle and find out whatever he needed to know.
It was a Wednesday night when he decided to gather information. If the preliminary background check had failed, he would just have to get as much on her as he could, and look at it from every angle. With that in mind, in his Drake Mallard guise, he sat himself down next to her on the couch and began.

"So, Ms. Webfoot," he said, his tone confident and straightforward, "would I be correct in assuming that 'Beth' is short for 'Elizabeth'?"

She straightened up slightly and smiled at him. "Um, yes! You're exactly correct," she said. "A-although I guess, when you think about it, there aren't really many other names that Beth is short for, are there? But still you never know so I understand why you asked."

At this point, Drake was starting to suspect that the stream of ongoing mindless chatter from her was an intentional front. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but gave no other sign of suspicion. "Riiiiight. So, moving on, do you happen to have a middle name?"

Beth looked at him in surprise for a second, and he was just wondering if he'd pushed too far too fast and given himself away, when she blushed a little. "W-well, it's Marilynn, actually."

"Marilyn? Like Marilyn Monroe, huh?"

"Yes, exactly! Only it's spelled with two 'n's at the end so it's not exactly the same - b-but you're not interested in how I spell a name I never even use," she finished, chuckling nervously.

"On the contrary," he said, making a mental note of this information, "I am interested. *Very* interested."

Beth leaned forward, again looking surprised and pleased. "R-really?"

"Oh yes," Drake answered. He leaned forward as well, and propped himself up on one elbow against the couch. "Do tell me more about yourself, Ms. Webfoot... Favourite colour, favourite animal... where you grew up... any prior police records..."

She laughed, presumably at the last one, and went on to tell him everything. In great, extensive detail. Over the course of fifteen minutes he learned a whole lot about very little, mainly - despite his efforts at steering the conversation - about her background in retail. She probably *was* onto him.

After answering two or three questions and then devolving into a rambling monologue that seemed to be mostly about her boss, Beth failed to make any point that Drake could identify. He was stuck nodding, uttering the occasional "Uh-huh" and "Absolutely", and ultimately feeling his eyes glazing over. Was it just possible that she didn't actually notice the effect she was having? After all, the Muddlefoots were the much the same... But this would be such an effective form of torture that it just raised Drake's suspicions even more.

"...And Henny said that it wasn't worth chasing him down over 21 cents, and I guess she's probably right, but it was just going to stay with me all day if I hadn't given him the correct change and really, you know, what if he'd come back and been upset that I'd given him the wrong amount? I know, I know, it's less than a quarter but you never do know, but then Henny said that I'd wasted company time going after him once he'd left the store, and I just thought, it's like I can't win either way, you know? Should I give him his money, should I let him leave, do you know that song 'Should I Stay or Should I Go?' It's by the Clash, and I don't normally like that kind of music but I heard it once on the radio and I thought 'Oh my gosh, that's ME' because it basically goes -"

"What?" Drake said suddenly, as if in response to something. Beth fell silent instantly. He sat up straight, looking like he was listening to something, then called "Be right there!" and turned back to Beth. "Sorry, I think I'm needed in the kitchen. Y'know, you should probably go upstairs and check on Gos and her homework, really enjoyed the chat and I hope we can do this again next year!"

"Oh - yes, me too, we could... um...thanks!" She was just trailing off as he left the room, escaping through the door into the safe haven of his kitchen.

The only person there was Launchpad, who had definitely not called him, but Drake was reasonably sure that - despite his partiality to Beth - he could count on some backup from his sidekick in this case.

"Hey DW - hot dogs are just about done," Launchpad announced, being in charge of dinner for the evening. "You want anything on it?"

"Make me one with everything, LP," said Drake, sinking wearily into the chair at the kitchen table, "I earned it."

"Really? Whatja do?" Launchpad asked as he retrieved about five different bottles and jars from the fridge, then piled them onto the counter next to the bag of hot dog rolls.

Drake let his head rest in his hand, as though he were trying to massage his brain back to life. "Just had a full interview with you-know-who out there, to try to get some more information to go on."

Launchpad rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "DW, for the last time, she's NOT a bad guy!" He checked the hot dogs, turned down the flame underneath the burner, and then addressed Drake again. "You're wastin' a lot of energy on nothin'!"

"I beg to differ," Drake said flatly. "If *she's* harmless, then Dr. Slug should be celebrated as a philanthropist. I just spent twenty minutes listening to her go on, and I'm telling you LP, there is *evil* underneath that drab exterior. There has to be, because nobody can actually be that *boring*."

Launchpad frowned, his expression indicating a bit more displeasure than before. "That's not -" The next word, Drake was sure, would have been either "nice" or "fair"; Launchpad was a staunch defender of Beth, and he seemed to share Gizmoduck's idealistic beliefs that "fair" applied outside to life outside of the playground. But the sentence was never finished, because as he was speaking the words, Launchpad's eyes skipped from Drake to something behind him, and he bit off his comment.

Drake swallowed, and reluctantly turned in his seat; Beth was standing in the doorway, her hand clutching the frame in a manner that suggested she was keeping herself upright this way, but although there was a slight blush on her cheeks, her face was almost impassive. There was absolutely no doubt that she'd heard his last comment; the only thing uncertain was just how much she *had* heard.

An awkward moment fell among the three of them, and Drake shifted guiltily in his seat. As Beth turned her attention toward the ground, Drake returned his to the kitchen table. The tension between them was almost palpable. He had to say something - he knew that - but nothing that came into his head seemed right. In books and TV shows, a person overhearing others talking about them just left - usually without anyone even knowing they'd been there. Naturally, Beth was just *standing* there, like she was waiting for something.

Waiting - or maybe completely aware of how awkward her presence was making things. Maybe this was *intentional*. He reminded himself that Beth was no ordinary babysitter (or hardware clerk or whatever she called herself) - and, depending on how much she'd overheard, it was possibly that she knew that *he* knew.
With his mind racing this way, Drake almost didn't notice when Launchpad broke the silence that had built up around them. With a forceful cheerfulness, Launchpad said loudly, "Oh, hi Beth! Uh, so, how's it goin'?"

It was an incredibly lame attempt to pretend nothing had happened, but at the same time, Drake realized that might be the best way to go. At best she might believe it, and at worst, she might not know that they knew that she knew they knew. Wait - Drake frowned to himself. Was that right...?

Beth, meanwhile, answered in a weak voice. "Oh... um... g-good. I-I guess."

"Yeah? Great! Me too. So, uh... lookin' forward to babysittin' tonight?"

"Um..." Beth's voice shook, and grew quieter. "I-I think m-maybe I should... go home..."

Drake fought down another surge of guilt by reminding himself that he was being manipulated by a diabolical genius. If he turned to face her, he might lose his resolve; much better for him to avoid eye contact.

Launchpad reacted strongly, which did not surprise Drake. "No, don't go! Look, Beth, you didn't hear what you thought you heard. Drake didn't mean - well..." He looked beseechingly to Drake, who shook his head slightly in an effort to convey his suspicions. Launchpad's eyebrows went up in surprise for a moment, then knitted together slightly.

From the doorway, Beth said, "I-I'm sorry..."

Distracted from Drake, Launchpad looked at her swiftly. "*You* don't have to apologize!" he said, an edge of something unspoken creeping into his voice. "C'mon Drake," he said imploringly.

It figured: Launchpad *would* end up buying the act of the damsel in distress and forget to pay attention to the guy with the crimefighter's instincts. Drake grit his teeth together and tried to make eye contact so that he could get it through to Launchpad that they were being played, but it was no good; his sidekick was too distracted, and just kept looking back and forth between them. Drake was well aware that he'd have to say *something*, in any case, but without advance communication, Launchpad probably wasn't going to like it. Still, it had to be done.

Stiff-shouldered, Drake turned partially towards Beth and said, "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"Um, okay," Beth said in a near-whisper. Drake couldn't see her well from his angle, but she appeared to be talking to the doorframe. She started to slip out of his line of vision. "Um, I'll just... um..."

There was a loud *bang* on the table in front of him, and Drake jumped in surprise and looked up to see Launchpad staring at him. No - *glaring*. Drake was taken too much aback to do any more than blink for a moment, during which time Launchpad said, "What kinda apology was *that*?"

"It was-" began Drake, who wasn't about to take this kind of situation from his own sidekick; but Beth managed to cut through his voice despite the softness of her tone.

"No, no, it's okay - he doesn't have to apologize at all!" She looked from Drake to Launchpad, both of whose attention was firmly on her, and she took a timid step back. "I'm... I'm fine," she said tremulously. "He didn't do anything... wrong."

Ignoring Drake for a moment, Launchpad stepped toward her and took her by the hand, drawing her into the room. "Wait here a sec," he said, his voice growing quiet, and then he surprised Drake again by putting a hand to her cheek, just for a moment, as she cast her eyes downwards again. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" She nodded, still looking at the floor.

Then Launchpad turned back to Drake, and said, "I gotta talk to you." There was unmistakably no room for argument in his tone, and although Drake didn't intend to let Launchpad start ordering him around, he did feel it was utterly imperative to avoid any sign of dissension in front of Beth.

Coolly, he replied, "Fine. Ms. Webfoot," he said politely as he got to his feet, "please excuse us for a moment." Launchpad had already started for the living room, so Drake stepped out after him. Once they'd cleared the door, Drake began, "Okay, listen LP-"

"What's your *problem* with her?!" Launchpad asked, spinning to face Drake and pointing a finger decisively in his direction.

Drake was taken aback, and for a moment all he could do was stare at his sidekick, blinking and frowning as his temper flared in the face of this unfair accusation. Launchpad seemed to be waiting for an actual answer, so a few moments passed before Drake recovered enough to answer. "What is *that* supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, DW. You haven't given her a chance even once since you've met her. An' now you've really hurt her feelings, and for what? What'd she *do*?"

"Don't fall for that sweet and innocent routine, Launchpad - that woman is-"

"No she's *NOT*!" Again, Drake stopped cold, because talks with Launchpad just were not supposed to go this way. Launchpad didn't cut him off, he didn't yell, and he didn't question Darkwing Duck's instincts. All these things together were such unexplored territory with the pilot that Drake found himself getting equally angry and unnerved. Launchpad lowered his voice and continued, but the anger remained audible. "You don't have any proof about that, you just decided it an' you're stickin' with it 'cause it's easier than admittin' that you're bein' a jerk!"

"YOU don't have any proof that she's NOT a supervillain!" Drake shot back, maintaining the same high-intensity, low-volume tone as Launchpad, as he bristled over the term 'jerk'. "All *you* have is a 'gut feeling', so don't give me this baloney about believing what I want to believe! I'M the one with the hero's instincts here, *sidekick*!"

"Yeah, but if you knew her..."

"Oh, give me a break. Just because you see someone for ten minutes at a time every couple of weeks doesn't make you bosom companions. Why do you even care?"

Frowning, Launchpad pointed again, this time at the kitchen door. "Because maybe you didn't notice, or maybe you just don't care, but she *likes* you. She's a good person, but she's shy, an' she's tryin' every day to get you to notice her just a little bit but all you ever do is complain about her an' accuse her of stuff."

"And that's another thing!" Drake said angrily, refusing to quail under this list of inaccuracies, "*she* barely knows *me*. Why should she care enough to try to get me to notice her? Unless she has ulterior motives, that's why!"

"Or maybe she's just *nice!*" Launchpad shouted, and then stepped back, shutting his mouth again. He crossed his arms. "Look DW - just look at it this way. If you don't believe she's innocent, then pretend for a sec that ya do. Pretend she's just an ordinary lady, who never dealt with supervillains or any'a that stuff before. Now think about how much she's been through the past coupla weeks. She's been robbed, stalked, kidnapped, an' she's babysat for Gosalyn five times now. And she keeps comin' back."

Drake had to pause and concede that this was, indeed, a lot for your average non-superheroic citizen. "But nobody's *making* her."

"Exactly," said Launchpad emphatically.

"Sooooo, doesn't that make you *suspicious*?" Drake let the statement hang in the air for a moment, certain that the implications would finally sink in.

Instead Launchpad shook his head. "No. It makes me think she's lonely."

And then *that* statement hung in the air, and sank in.

But... *no*. Just because she'd won over Launchpad - and really, who had doubted that she'd win over Launchpad? She'd had her hooks in him for weeks now - didn't mean that Drake would let this faulty logic win him over as well. His family, and perhaps the entire city, were at stake.... They *had* to be.

Seeing he wasn't going to win Launchpad over with any grandscale arguments (and unable to think of any more at this point anyway), he averted his eyes and grumbled, "Look, she wasn't even supposed to hear that anyway."

"Well, she did," Launchpad said. "An' you're just makin' excuses now 'cause you feel bad."

He was *not*. Frowning, Drake said, "I am *not*. She needs to learn not to come bursting into someone else's kitchen. Maybe she can use this as an object lesson."

***
(Not the end of the scene, just the end of what I have written. ^_^)

Yo yo folks, what up.

I had to delete the extra "u" after both of those "yo"s, btw. Creature of habit when I type.

Anyway, earlier I'd thought I could make a nice long blog post but THAT didn't happen. Right now I have developed a cold, and although so far it's just a runny nose, this nose happens to be running like a faucet and it just doesn't stop. But my nose isn't stuffed at all, it's just runny. UGH. Oh well, I'd be just as uncomfortable if it were not runny, but stuffed. What can I ask for here? If I'm sick, I'm sick, I guess.

So here's the schedule I want to set myself for the next little while, on what I want to work on:

1) Rewriting TWC2. Deadline: end of the year. This is heavily reliant on my actually managing to set up my personal computer in my bedroom since we moved at the end of last month; we don't have a chair for the desk up there yet. I will also need to finish at least the first two, if not all three, chapters of the first act by the end of this month. On the plus side, I have a good deal of chapter 1 done, perhaps half of chapter 2, and an idea for how chapter 3 is going to go. Plus! I think I have Act II more or less mapped in my head. So yay!

2) Once that's done, I'm going to start the next fic to follow after "House on Avian Way", which is tentatively called "Those Daring McQuacks In Their Flying Machines". Yep, and that will be fun to type out a million times, huh? So you can get a pretty decent idea of the vague premise of this one out of hte title. I'm going to have to research it (which should give you a confirmation of what at least some of it is about). ^_^ It should be short - shortish anyway - lordie, I hope... I don't have it all plotted in my head but there's enough to give me a start and some momentum.

3) At the same time I think I'm going to try to work on rewriting TWC3, "Forever Young". That one had a decent plot for Quackerjack but needs some reworking in terms of specifics. If you've read my first fics, have you noticed how nebulous I always left the villain's plots? It wasn't until I was well into my twenties that I started thinking actual solid plans were important. Yeah well. At least I care now. ;) Funnily enough I've started the opening scene for this one, since I had an idea on something I had been worrying over and thinking would require a lot of work to rewrite. And then it just came to me! I'm still a bit concerned it's not quite right but... yknow, it's going to be like six months at least until anyone else sees it, so...

Then again I could always preview it here...

Which would mean it would still be six months until anyone else sees it. XD (No, hi, I know there are like... two or three people who read this occasionally! I should make badges for you so you can recognize each other on the streets.)

4) It's not likely to happen but I would love to be able to work on my second Christmas fic, which I've been kidding myself since 2007 that I would finish up each and every year. Here it is nearing year 4!

All this and I'm going to keep putting up notes for AAE, too... eventually. Once again, contingent on my personal computer (right now I'm on my work laptop). But for now, it's past 10 pm, so I think it's perhaps time for bed for this girl and her drippy nasal passages. Please, please tell me I have SOME kind of cold medicine lurking in my bathroom cabinets... Otherwise I foresee an uncomfortably sniffly night ahead.:P Night, all!

Statement of Fact

"High, Dry, and Flooded" is the best DWD fanfic I've ever written.

There's no room for debate; this is just how it is.

There will be a test later.

[PS this doesn't mean it's the best DWD fanfic ever; it's just my best. Three years already and I'm still so proud of that plot!]