So, earlier I wrote a post sayingg that I was nearly finished with chapter 2 of TWC4 and I would have deleted scenes to post later on, but for some reason this computer will not let me publish posts to this blog. So that post never got added to the blog. Instead I'm just gonna go ahead and make THIS message, and then hopefully be able to post it from upstairs on my OLD computer. And if I can't I have no idea what happens :P
Anyway! First of all: I finished and uploaded chapter 2 of TWC4, "Shake, Rattle, and Mole". The link is to the first chapter. It's also here on AO3.
So, as I wrote this chapter it just got longer and longer. And I'd edit it down, then write more. Finally I said screw it and wrote what I wanted, with ideas of what I could trim out later; the final edit turned out to be about 5,500 words. I got it down to just under 4,300 on FF.net by cutting rather ruthlessly and summarizing some of the dialogue I'd taken out. The stuff I cut was all just conversation, and does not keep the plot moving or anything like that - it's all really just chitchat. The thing is, though, I do feel like it's important b/c it gives a bit more of a reason as to why LP and Beth get along and why he'd start feeling the way he does for her. I feel like the version I posted at FF.net, while it is more concise, glosses over both his growing attraction to her and also the fundamentals of their friendship. So, although that's the "official" version up there and the extra stuff is probably really *better* for cutting, I still want to make it available since... well, it just might make the relationship make more *sense*, I guess. I dunno, I'm too in the characters' heads, and this probably isn't necessary - it probably overstates things way too much. But I felt I needed more transition from LP's resistance to his attraction to Beth, into his total acceptance of it at the end of the chapter.
I actually trimmed even more than I am putting up here... maybe I'll keep those parts or maybe they are genuinely expendable. But here are two snippets I thought were worth keeping, even unofficially.
****
"Traffic... OH." She put her hand to her mouth and looked thunderstruck. Then she put her hand over her eyes. "OH, of *course*. THAT'S why he's mad. Oh, I am so stupid."
"What? He's not mad. Why do you think he's mad?" Launchpad felt a need to protect her, but it came out as a sort of frantic cover-up.
"Nothing - I just... oh, sheesh, I didn't think. No, it's nothing."
"You're not stupid," he said earnestly. He looked around the room. "Is it the pictures that fell down? 'Cause that's not your fault."
"No, I know." She looked at him and smiled.
He smiled back, and realized she probably couldn't see his expression at all. He looked at the table. "So, what happened to your glasses?"
"Oh. They fell off, I stepped on them. Standard klutz stuff." She leaned forward and felt around for them, then put them on. The left lense was full of cracks, and the bridge was so broken that the glasses wouldn't sit straight on her bill, so the right lense twisted upwards. She tried twice to right them, then gave up and put them back onto the table. "Ugh."
"Can you see at all without 'em?" He looked at her carefully, without her glasses on - the first time he'd seen her without them; it made her face look younger and different, uncovered. *Naked*. He blushed a little and looked at his hands instead.
"Kind of. I mean, I can see you - just no details." She reached out and poked him in the chest, and he chuckled and rubbed the spot she'd poked. "But I have degenerative myopia, so I'm super nearsighted."
"Whoa, really? That sounds bad."
She shrugged. "It's not that bad. It's slow-acting, I mean. It mostly happened kind of quickly when I was about twelve, and all of a sudden I needed glasses, then stronger ones. But now it's slowed down and I just need to adjust my prescription every so often."
He looked at her face again, almost shyly. All this time he'd assumed that her eyes only looked big because of the thickness of her glasses, but it turned out they were just that *big*. She looked at most nineteen, and adorable. He realized he was staring and looked away, then realized she couldn't tell, so he looked at her again. "So, does it hurt your head to have everythin' blurry like this?"
"No, not if I don't try to see anything. If I have to squint it hurts eventually. But even if I squint I can only make things out if they're close enough, so I just don't bother most of the time."
"How close do you have to be?"
She leaned towards him, and beckoned him closer too. As he got nearer, she narrowed her eyes, and then stopped him. "THERE we go. Hi!"
He waved. "Hi!" She laughed, all squinty-eyed, and blushed a little. "If I get closer do you NOT have to squint?"
"Um, yeah, there's usually a point where I can see things, just before they get TOO close and I can't see them anymore." She beckoned him closer again, and he leaned in. "Okay... keep coming... keeeeep coming..."
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Beth jumped back like she'd been stung. "OH my gosh!"
Launchpad sat back, away from her, down at the other end of the couch, and he hadn't been about to kiss her at all. "Oh. Hey!" he said as Drake came down the stairs, glowering at them both. "Heh. Gos okay?"
"She's *fine*," Drake said stiffly, and glared a direct accusation in Launchpad's direction. Launchpad suspected he was blushing.
Etc...
***
[[After this, there is one thing i took out - after reluctantly thanking Beth for staying to be sure Gos was okay, Drake gives her an extra $20 as "overtime" which she tries to give back but he won't take it. Eh, it was a nice touch but really not needed. Then the walk to Beth's, I had conversation written out that I ended up removing and summarizing:]]
"Sounds good," she said cheerfully. He had her repeat the first step, and he did his best to listen even though he was fighting a maddening urge to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb the entire time.
They walked in silence for more than a minute. Launchpad felt every second of it. It seemed as if he *needed* to say something, or else he'd just keep *thinking*, and thinking wasn't helping him in the slightest; but he had no idea what to say. Beth, meanwhile, was uncharacteristically silent; he'd never known her not to keep *some* line of conversation going. Taking a guess at what she might be thinking, he asked, "Still worried about Drake bein' mad?"
She nodded. "I feel like I'm on thin ice with him. Like there's a sword hanging over my head, and every time I do the wrong thing, the rope keeping it up gets weaker and weaker, and there's no way to strengthen it again."
"Don't worry about it," he said reassuringly, and tightened his grip on her hand without thinking of what he was doing. "He just gets, I dunno... funny about stuff. But you were right to stay with Gos, and he knows it."
Beth shook her head. "I should've thought, though... With me still being there when he came home..."
"Huh? What do you mean?" That was weird - it almost sounded like she knew about Darkwing.
"Oh - no, nothing. Sorry." She smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
"Oh, uh, okay." Launchpad scratched his cheek in puzzlement, and reached for a topic - something kind of boring and safe - and came up with, "So, uh, how's the job hunt going?"
Beth sighed dramatically, her shoulders slumping. "Still unemployed," she answered. "I don't know, Launchpad, I've applied to, like, twenty different companies this week alone and I haven't heard ANYthing. And they're all kinds of jobs, I mean, I even applied to a Hamburger Hippo and NOBODY has called me back! I was saying to Gosalyn earlier, I don't even know what I was thinking, just quitting. What a dumb thing to do. That was the ONLY real job I've ever had, and do you know how long it took me to get THAT? And then Henny just hired me on the spot when I came in to inquire... And now, I can't even use that job as a reference because of everything I said when I quit. Henny would *never* say anything good about me now so I have four years' worth of employment at ONE job, and NO references..." She shook her head and sighed again. "But you know, that's the thing about Henny, I don't think I could have gotten a good reference out of her even if I *hadn't* said anything."
Wow. Launchpad was almost sorry he'd asked, if only because she was obviously really upset. "Uh, I'm sorry. I guess it's kinda my fault you quit..."
"What? No! Oh, no it's not, really." She turned to reassure him hastily, waving her free hand all around as she did. "You just said I should look for another job, I'M the one who quit! Nobody is to blame for this but me." She looked at him, or towards him anyway, with an anguished expression. "Launchpad... What do I do? What if I never get another job?"
With that look on her face, he found that the only thing that seemed important was to help her, to find a way to make all of her problems disappear. What could he possibly say to make her feel good about herself? "Of course you'll get another job! You're a great worker an' - an' you, uh, you have attention to details!"
Beth smiled, evidently in spite of herself, at that. "Do I?"
He shrugged. "I'm not real good at this. But you're smart, you'll do fine. REALLY, trust me."
"I don't know. I said to Gos earlier - people, they just don't notice me. There's nothing on my resume that looks interesting, and it's the same thing when they meet me - just being smart isn't going to do it, it's like I'm invisibe. Nobody will ever call me because nobody will ever NOTICE me."
Etc.
***
[[And, last thing, which I won't paste here; after he asks her to have "movie night", she says that she was afraid he was avoiding her which he denies a bit too much. Again, cute but expendable. And there you go, now you know the rest of the story!
This still may not fully convey the transition I tried to write - well, to be honest, I'm afraid I failed with that even in the full version - but I mean, I just cut bits and piece throughout to take out as much as I could. I'm kinda impressed I got 1300 out of it. I wish I could've taken it down to under 4,000 since this chapter is such fluff that I feel bad having it be so long... but oh well. :P]]
Showing posts with label deleted scene. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deleted scene. Show all posts
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Three happy chappies in snappy sarapes
Every so often I get "The Three Caballeros" stuck in my head and I really mean STUCK. :P Actually I think I'm going to go watch it if I can find it on YouTube. Just 'cause. I have such a mad crush on Jose Carioca and was sort of shocked to find out that so does half of deviantART, but I digress...
So! Anyway, moving on, and getting back to the point of my single-minded blog; if you've been following TWC3 you know I've recently posted the 8th chapter out of 9. I'm working on the 9th chapter and I already have a deleted scene :P It's a scene I like, but it makes the chapter too long and it's not necessary for the fic as a whole to make sense. So I'm removing it and putting it up here, but I will note that I consider it canon (it was in ALL my earlier outlines, sigh, I hated taking it out but eh. It's genuinely expendable, just something I wanted but isn't needed).
I'm not spoiling anything when I give the context, because - assuming you've read the second-to-last chapter of the fic, you already know how the action plot wraps up. Therefore, this doesn't really give anything away. However, it's really just fluff for the sake of fluff... a bit of schmoopy LP/Beth stuff, yet again. So I guess this is the right place for it. ^_~
***
He picked up the phone, dialed, and then hung up before it rang. What was the best way to do this? Should he be straightforward and get right to it, or make small talk for a while to play it down? Small talk, he decided. That way she'd feel like it wasn't the *only* reason he was calling her. Which it wasn't, he amended to himself hastily. He'd have called her anyway - or, well, he *should* get into the habit of calling her. He'd call her tomorrow to let her know that she should come in, and then keep talking to her after telling her. Perfect.
He dialed again and let it ring.
"Bindler's Hardware, how can I help you." She picked up midway through the second ring, and he thought she sounded tired or maybe just unhappy. He remembered the five-minute rule just before he spoke.
"Uh, hey Beth, it's Launchpad." Maybe he *should* get right to the point, though he really didn't want to.
"Oh, hi!" she said, infinitely more enthusiastic, but he thought he could still detect an edge of flatness to her voice. "Everything okay?"
"Oh, sure, yeah, fine," he said; so much for getting right to the point. "How're things goin' there?"
There was a brief hesitation, and then she said, "Yeah, just fine too... Fine... Henny just got in, actually, so just a few more hours and my shift's done for the day."
"I thought you closed on Thursdays?"
"Yeah, I - I usually do," she said, then with amusement in her voice added, "and I can't believe you remember that."
"Oh yeah, well... just stuck with me, I guess," he said. He felt a little embarrassed now that she'd made a thing out of it, but it wasn't anything, really... It was just easier to know when Beth was in the store and when she wasn't, so that he didn't get stuck dealing only with Henny if he needed to drop by for something.
"Okay - well no problem, just... anyway she's had me close a few times already this week so I asked her to let me have this evening off. That way I can get over there a little earlier, have some time to unwind before I take on Gos, things like that." She laughed.
"Uh, yeah," he said, forcing a laugh as well. "So she letcha switch? Well that's good! After what you were sayin' yesterday it seemed like she might not do stuff like that... So I guess things aren't all that bad!" He wasn't stalling, he was focusing on the positive.
Unfortunately Beth gave a sigh. "Actually now that you mention it..." She lowered her voice. "You'd think I'd asked for an extra week of paid vacation or something. I mean - she has me switch shifts with her *all the time*, something like four times just this month, but heaven forbid *I* ask for something. And I'd *better* not refuse when she needs an evening or a morning free, because if I do, of *course* it's not because I have plans or it's the last minute, it's obviously because I just want to be a jerk. You know-" She cut herself off and sighed again. "I'm sorry, Launchpad, you don't want to hear this. I shouldn't even be saying these things. I just - I'm kind of stressed out right now, and -"
"Hey, you can *always* tell me stuff. I'm here to listen! Even if you just need to vent for, like, a half an hour straight."
There was a sound in the background of her end of the line then, something kind of like a foghorn. Launchpad listened closely but couldn't figure out what it was. "Uh - did somethin' just happen...?"
In a strained voice, Beth said, "That was Henny. I have two minutes left."
"Ah. Yeah, right. Sorry, well... uh... I guess I'll get to the point, then..." He went over a few options of how to lead into the statement quickly in his head, and began, "Well, see, here's the thing-"
"You don't want me to come babysit tonight, do you," she said flatly.
He felt incredibly guilty. "Uh, how'd ya guess?" he asked, hoping if he stayed cheerful he could make it seem unimportant.
She didn't buy it. "Your voice - you obviously had bad news, and you know, that's just the kind of week it's been." She caught herself. "It's not a big deal actually, I'm just being dramatic... You know how it is, one little thing just to validate feeling bad about the big things. Really, I can use another evening off to get some rest."
"Yeah! Get to bed early or - y'know, go out to a movie or somethin'!" Should he offer to take her out to a movie? Nah, she probably wouldn't know how to take that. He had another idea, and this one made more sense. "Y'know, you should come over sometime, but *not* to babysit. Just come on by an' hang out-"
"Hang on." She turned her head away from the phone or something, just enough so that she wasn't shouting directly into the receiver when she said, "Just a *minute*, okay?! I'm ALMOST DONE!"
"Uh, sorry -"
"Don't worry, it's not you... I'm sorry, I probably made you go deaf. She's been like this all *week*." Beth sounded slightly desperate at the end of the last sentence. "What were you saying?"
"Oh, you should just come over and we can hang out-"
Henny yelled in the background again, and this time Launchpad could hear her clearly. Beth yelled back almost immediately, and he was so surprised by the whole thing that he just kept on talking, which resulted in the three of them going all together at once:
"*Store rules are in place for a reason, Beth, an' five minutes means five minutes!*"
"I am NEARLY DONE, Henny, and I still have thirty-five seconds left!"
"-it's been a while, and I miss you!"
He fell silent. Beth and Henny did not, and he got to hear Henny sniping about the exact time by her watch since the phone had started ringing, and Beth started saying into the phone "So anyway *Dad*, thanks for letting me know about Mom, I hope she's out of the hospital soon! Yes, I'll call as soon as I can get home, unfortunately my *manager* feels I spend too much time on the phone!"
Wow. This was crazy.
Henny's voice faded away and Beth took a moment to recover before saying, in a shaky voice, "I am *so sorry.*"
"No, don't be. That sounds *awful*."
"You have no idea," she said; her voice sounded small.
He was at a loss; words weren't his strong suit in moments like these, but she wasn't there in the room with him, so words were all he had to offer. "Your mom's not really in the hospital, is she?"
Beth laughed sharply. "No, of course not. God, wouldn't that just be the topper? No, I just - was being stupid. I wanted her to leave me alone."
"Don't get real upset, okay? You're gettin' out soon, maybe spend the afternoon lookin' at the want ads and see if you can find another place that's hiring."
"Yeah, right." She took a long breath and let it out. "Okay, I should go now or she'll nail me for being over by 47 seconds. Thanks for calling me."
"No problemo. I'll call tomorrow too, okay?"
She paused, just for the briefest second. "Do - do you want to cancel tomorrow night too?"
"Huh? NO! No, I'll just call to check in! We'll DEFINITELy see you tomorrow night!"
"Oh good... okay. Thanks." She sounded deeply relieved. "Um, geez, I should've asked this before now, but is Drake OK?"
"Oh yeah - fine, no, he just... doctor said, to be on the safe side, y'know. Stomach bugs can spread real quick."
"Stomach..." She mused slightly, but didn't finish. Instead she said, "I - I'm not going to ask if you've had a chance to... talk to him yet, about what I was saying... I mean... if you have, well, tell me tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh yeah. You bet. Actually with him bein' sick and all-"
"Right. Well, tomorrow. Thanks again for calling."
When they'd both hung up, he wondered where exactly "I miss you" had come from.
So! Anyway, moving on, and getting back to the point of my single-minded blog; if you've been following TWC3 you know I've recently posted the 8th chapter out of 9. I'm working on the 9th chapter and I already have a deleted scene :P It's a scene I like, but it makes the chapter too long and it's not necessary for the fic as a whole to make sense. So I'm removing it and putting it up here, but I will note that I consider it canon (it was in ALL my earlier outlines, sigh, I hated taking it out but eh. It's genuinely expendable, just something I wanted but isn't needed).
I'm not spoiling anything when I give the context, because - assuming you've read the second-to-last chapter of the fic, you already know how the action plot wraps up. Therefore, this doesn't really give anything away. However, it's really just fluff for the sake of fluff... a bit of schmoopy LP/Beth stuff, yet again. So I guess this is the right place for it. ^_~
***
He picked up the phone, dialed, and then hung up before it rang. What was the best way to do this? Should he be straightforward and get right to it, or make small talk for a while to play it down? Small talk, he decided. That way she'd feel like it wasn't the *only* reason he was calling her. Which it wasn't, he amended to himself hastily. He'd have called her anyway - or, well, he *should* get into the habit of calling her. He'd call her tomorrow to let her know that she should come in, and then keep talking to her after telling her. Perfect.
He dialed again and let it ring.
"Bindler's Hardware, how can I help you." She picked up midway through the second ring, and he thought she sounded tired or maybe just unhappy. He remembered the five-minute rule just before he spoke.
"Uh, hey Beth, it's Launchpad." Maybe he *should* get right to the point, though he really didn't want to.
"Oh, hi!" she said, infinitely more enthusiastic, but he thought he could still detect an edge of flatness to her voice. "Everything okay?"
"Oh, sure, yeah, fine," he said; so much for getting right to the point. "How're things goin' there?"
There was a brief hesitation, and then she said, "Yeah, just fine too... Fine... Henny just got in, actually, so just a few more hours and my shift's done for the day."
"I thought you closed on Thursdays?"
"Yeah, I - I usually do," she said, then with amusement in her voice added, "and I can't believe you remember that."
"Oh yeah, well... just stuck with me, I guess," he said. He felt a little embarrassed now that she'd made a thing out of it, but it wasn't anything, really... It was just easier to know when Beth was in the store and when she wasn't, so that he didn't get stuck dealing only with Henny if he needed to drop by for something.
"Okay - well no problem, just... anyway she's had me close a few times already this week so I asked her to let me have this evening off. That way I can get over there a little earlier, have some time to unwind before I take on Gos, things like that." She laughed.
"Uh, yeah," he said, forcing a laugh as well. "So she letcha switch? Well that's good! After what you were sayin' yesterday it seemed like she might not do stuff like that... So I guess things aren't all that bad!" He wasn't stalling, he was focusing on the positive.
Unfortunately Beth gave a sigh. "Actually now that you mention it..." She lowered her voice. "You'd think I'd asked for an extra week of paid vacation or something. I mean - she has me switch shifts with her *all the time*, something like four times just this month, but heaven forbid *I* ask for something. And I'd *better* not refuse when she needs an evening or a morning free, because if I do, of *course* it's not because I have plans or it's the last minute, it's obviously because I just want to be a jerk. You know-" She cut herself off and sighed again. "I'm sorry, Launchpad, you don't want to hear this. I shouldn't even be saying these things. I just - I'm kind of stressed out right now, and -"
"Hey, you can *always* tell me stuff. I'm here to listen! Even if you just need to vent for, like, a half an hour straight."
There was a sound in the background of her end of the line then, something kind of like a foghorn. Launchpad listened closely but couldn't figure out what it was. "Uh - did somethin' just happen...?"
In a strained voice, Beth said, "That was Henny. I have two minutes left."
"Ah. Yeah, right. Sorry, well... uh... I guess I'll get to the point, then..." He went over a few options of how to lead into the statement quickly in his head, and began, "Well, see, here's the thing-"
"You don't want me to come babysit tonight, do you," she said flatly.
He felt incredibly guilty. "Uh, how'd ya guess?" he asked, hoping if he stayed cheerful he could make it seem unimportant.
She didn't buy it. "Your voice - you obviously had bad news, and you know, that's just the kind of week it's been." She caught herself. "It's not a big deal actually, I'm just being dramatic... You know how it is, one little thing just to validate feeling bad about the big things. Really, I can use another evening off to get some rest."
"Yeah! Get to bed early or - y'know, go out to a movie or somethin'!" Should he offer to take her out to a movie? Nah, she probably wouldn't know how to take that. He had another idea, and this one made more sense. "Y'know, you should come over sometime, but *not* to babysit. Just come on by an' hang out-"
"Hang on." She turned her head away from the phone or something, just enough so that she wasn't shouting directly into the receiver when she said, "Just a *minute*, okay?! I'm ALMOST DONE!"
"Uh, sorry -"
"Don't worry, it's not you... I'm sorry, I probably made you go deaf. She's been like this all *week*." Beth sounded slightly desperate at the end of the last sentence. "What were you saying?"
"Oh, you should just come over and we can hang out-"
Henny yelled in the background again, and this time Launchpad could hear her clearly. Beth yelled back almost immediately, and he was so surprised by the whole thing that he just kept on talking, which resulted in the three of them going all together at once:
"*Store rules are in place for a reason, Beth, an' five minutes means five minutes!*"
"I am NEARLY DONE, Henny, and I still have thirty-five seconds left!"
"-it's been a while, and I miss you!"
He fell silent. Beth and Henny did not, and he got to hear Henny sniping about the exact time by her watch since the phone had started ringing, and Beth started saying into the phone "So anyway *Dad*, thanks for letting me know about Mom, I hope she's out of the hospital soon! Yes, I'll call as soon as I can get home, unfortunately my *manager* feels I spend too much time on the phone!"
Wow. This was crazy.
Henny's voice faded away and Beth took a moment to recover before saying, in a shaky voice, "I am *so sorry.*"
"No, don't be. That sounds *awful*."
"You have no idea," she said; her voice sounded small.
He was at a loss; words weren't his strong suit in moments like these, but she wasn't there in the room with him, so words were all he had to offer. "Your mom's not really in the hospital, is she?"
Beth laughed sharply. "No, of course not. God, wouldn't that just be the topper? No, I just - was being stupid. I wanted her to leave me alone."
"Don't get real upset, okay? You're gettin' out soon, maybe spend the afternoon lookin' at the want ads and see if you can find another place that's hiring."
"Yeah, right." She took a long breath and let it out. "Okay, I should go now or she'll nail me for being over by 47 seconds. Thanks for calling me."
"No problemo. I'll call tomorrow too, okay?"
She paused, just for the briefest second. "Do - do you want to cancel tomorrow night too?"
"Huh? NO! No, I'll just call to check in! We'll DEFINITELy see you tomorrow night!"
"Oh good... okay. Thanks." She sounded deeply relieved. "Um, geez, I should've asked this before now, but is Drake OK?"
"Oh yeah - fine, no, he just... doctor said, to be on the safe side, y'know. Stomach bugs can spread real quick."
"Stomach..." She mused slightly, but didn't finish. Instead she said, "I - I'm not going to ask if you've had a chance to... talk to him yet, about what I was saying... I mean... if you have, well, tell me tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh yeah. You bet. Actually with him bein' sick and all-"
"Right. Well, tomorrow. Thanks again for calling."
When they'd both hung up, he wondered where exactly "I miss you" had come from.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Bonjour, Good Day, How is your family?
1st: New chapter of TWC3 is up on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/165643/chapters/244215
And at FF.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2460903/2/
2nd: The authors notes promise a deleted scene. You might possibly even wonder about that scene before you get to the end, where the author's notes are. What happened is that I wrote the scene where Drake apologizes to Beth, and wasn't really happy with it. It wasn't bad, but I felt like the whole chapter was running long, and I needed to trim it desperately. So I tried the chapter without the scene, just alluding to it, and it worked, IMO. But the scene has been written (and y'all readers might be curious), so I'm going to post it here with my handy-dandy Deleted Scene capabilities! Don't you love Fanfic Blog Extras? ;)
With this scene, there's a bit of duplicated information that shows up at the end of what I actually posted; that's because a small handful of information was important, and so I had to add it back into the chapter another way. I didn't bother to edit it out of here. So just in case you wonder why Beth and DW are having a conversation that they sort of have later on and neither seems to remember that they already talked about it... that's why. XD
Damn, I just realized that I forgot to put the "call me Beth" conversation in the version I posted. Meh. I can fix, though. Oh well! Enjoy!
***
"Ahem. Well," he said hesitantly.
After a moment, she said roughly, "Well..."
"So, uh... I think there may have been a slight misunderstanding just now, Ms. Webfoot," he began carefully. She shifted in a way that he couldn't read. He cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, I had it pointed out to me that you - *ahem* - overheard me say something that was just *ripe* for misinterpretation. And that you may have thought, mistakenly of *course*, that I was talking about *you* just now."
Beth lifted her head in a sort of sideways move, and he saw her eyes blink up towards his. "Re-really..?"
She looked miserable, to the point where he was embarrassed *for* her; it was like she wasn’t able to hide it, and it really wasn’t flattering. And for a moment, he had an awful, gut feeling that anyone who was acting out a deliberate plan wouldn’t be able to pull off so perfect a picture of misery. For just a moment, he was sure that she wasn't a supervillain, she wasn't a criminal mastermind, she was just a regular person. A generally somewhat annoying person, sure, but still a regular one. And he was a jerk.
Drake swallowed. No, that couldn’t be right. There was too much evidence to the contrary, too many coincidences to be real. He shook himself out of it, reminded himself why he was doing this, and then lied as hard as he could. "Oh yes. See, I had a conversation with a coworker this afternoon, and well, I'll spare you the details, but I was just telling Launchpad about it and it would seem that you walked in on the end of it. And from the look of things you jumped to conclusions here..."
She lifted her head slightly. "I... I did?"
He chuckled. "Yep, yep, looks like it." In lieu of anything else to say, he added, "I guess there's a lesson here about walking in on conversations-"
"Mr. Mallard?" She cut him off, and the look she was giving him was both hopeful and desperate. Speaking quickly and stiltedly, she said, "Do - I mean - do you want me - to leave?"
He hesitated. "P-pardon?"
"Just... just tell me." She sighed and put a hand up towards her forehead, shielding herself from him. "Just tell me right now, please, and... and that'll be that."
Oh, now this was too much. This catapulted him right back into his certainty that she was more than she said she was; no one could possibly do this without intending to twist the knife. He almost read her the riot act then and there, but then remembered that Launchpad would probably come to her rescue and tie him up, or something. Without the first idea of what to say or how this should go, he took a breath and lied again. "Nooooo, no no… Whatever could make you think *that*?"
There was a pause - he still couldn't see her face - and she said in a wobbly voice, "S-so you don't want me to leave?"
*Well-played, Beth Webfoot,* he thought. She was crafty. “Who, me? *Perish* the thought,” he said through gritted teeth.
With a slight sniffle she said, "Oh... Okay..." They paused and neither of them looked at each other, and then she said more loudly, "Boy, I sure feel silly over all this. Gosh. I'm - I'm really sorry."
"Oh, no, no no. Think nothing of it." Inwardly Drake was cringing, and wondering if he was really doing the right thing. Well, he was stuck with her now, so he’d *have* to be the one to take down her criminal empire – or whatever it was she was leading up to. "I mean, things... happen. No matter how much we might wish otherwise, am I right?"
"Sure," she said, and nodded. "Oh, Mr. Mallard ... I'm really sorry, also, about - about butting into your conversation."
Unexpectedly, he felt another flash of guilt when she said that, and he squirmed a little under her gaze. "Look, Ms. Webfoot-"
"Call me Beth!" she said instantly; it almost made him think she'd been waiting all this time for a chance to say that. "Um, please."
He winced. "Okay... Beth. Look, let's not even think about it again, huh?" She nodded, looking a little peppier than she had, and he was reminded of a puppy. "Okay, great, so we're settled. Look, I've got to get ready to go, so - so I'll just see you next time, right? We're paid up for the week?"
"Oh yes!" she said, nodding, and then looked thoughtful for a moment. He tried to escape before she spoke again, but she caught him halfway out the door. "Oh! Oh Mr. Mallard!"
He wondered if he could get away with not returning the first-name favour. With a sigh, he decided he probably couldn't. "Drake," he said wearily, turning back to face her. Her entire face brightened.
"I totally forgot what it was I was coming in to say to you! See, Gosalyn had asked me if she could have a friend over tonight and I wasn't sure what you'd think about that so I said I would ask you, I mean, it's pretty much okay with *me* but I don't know YOUR policy on the matter so I figured it was better to ask and be sure so that you didn't-"
"Okay okay, I get it. Are we talking about Honker?"
She looked a little blank, but said, "Is he the next-door neighbour?"
"Yep."
"Then yes, that must be right. Is that okay with you?"
"Sure, sure. Honker comes over all the time. Just make sure Gos doesn't force him to do her homework and there won't be any problems." He started out through the door again, and again she stopped him.
"Dr-Drake? One more thing. Um... is Honker... is he very much like - well, what I mean is-"
He knew what she was trying to ask, as she searched for a tactful way of asking without possibly insulting his daughter. "He's nothing like Gos. He's quiet and studious - you'll like him."
"Oh." She smiled, appearing to relax, and gave him a little wave. He returned it half-heartedly, and did his best to make sure she didn't see him roll his eyes on the way out. The last thing he needed now was to go through the whole darn thing over again.
***
The door to the kitchen opened slowly, almost carefully, and then Drake stepped out. Launchpad watched him, and when he didn’t say anything, Launchpad prompted him a little. “So..?”
Drake turned a look on him that Launchpad couldn’t exactly identify. It was sort of accusatory and annoyed, but also underneath it seemed like it was kind of fumbling and remorseful. It was definitely a glare, though, and Launchpad felt more sheepish every second it was turned on him. After a moment, Drake said, “So I apologized.”
...etc...
And at FF.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2460903/2/
2nd: The authors notes promise a deleted scene. You might possibly even wonder about that scene before you get to the end, where the author's notes are. What happened is that I wrote the scene where Drake apologizes to Beth, and wasn't really happy with it. It wasn't bad, but I felt like the whole chapter was running long, and I needed to trim it desperately. So I tried the chapter without the scene, just alluding to it, and it worked, IMO. But the scene has been written (and y'all readers might be curious), so I'm going to post it here with my handy-dandy Deleted Scene capabilities! Don't you love Fanfic Blog Extras? ;)
With this scene, there's a bit of duplicated information that shows up at the end of what I actually posted; that's because a small handful of information was important, and so I had to add it back into the chapter another way. I didn't bother to edit it out of here. So just in case you wonder why Beth and DW are having a conversation that they sort of have later on and neither seems to remember that they already talked about it... that's why. XD
Damn, I just realized that I forgot to put the "call me Beth" conversation in the version I posted. Meh. I can fix, though. Oh well! Enjoy!
***
"Ahem. Well," he said hesitantly.
After a moment, she said roughly, "Well..."
"So, uh... I think there may have been a slight misunderstanding just now, Ms. Webfoot," he began carefully. She shifted in a way that he couldn't read. He cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, I had it pointed out to me that you - *ahem* - overheard me say something that was just *ripe* for misinterpretation. And that you may have thought, mistakenly of *course*, that I was talking about *you* just now."
Beth lifted her head in a sort of sideways move, and he saw her eyes blink up towards his. "Re-really..?"
She looked miserable, to the point where he was embarrassed *for* her; it was like she wasn’t able to hide it, and it really wasn’t flattering. And for a moment, he had an awful, gut feeling that anyone who was acting out a deliberate plan wouldn’t be able to pull off so perfect a picture of misery. For just a moment, he was sure that she wasn't a supervillain, she wasn't a criminal mastermind, she was just a regular person. A generally somewhat annoying person, sure, but still a regular one. And he was a jerk.
Drake swallowed. No, that couldn’t be right. There was too much evidence to the contrary, too many coincidences to be real. He shook himself out of it, reminded himself why he was doing this, and then lied as hard as he could. "Oh yes. See, I had a conversation with a coworker this afternoon, and well, I'll spare you the details, but I was just telling Launchpad about it and it would seem that you walked in on the end of it. And from the look of things you jumped to conclusions here..."
She lifted her head slightly. "I... I did?"
He chuckled. "Yep, yep, looks like it." In lieu of anything else to say, he added, "I guess there's a lesson here about walking in on conversations-"
"Mr. Mallard?" She cut him off, and the look she was giving him was both hopeful and desperate. Speaking quickly and stiltedly, she said, "Do - I mean - do you want me - to leave?"
He hesitated. "P-pardon?"
"Just... just tell me." She sighed and put a hand up towards her forehead, shielding herself from him. "Just tell me right now, please, and... and that'll be that."
Oh, now this was too much. This catapulted him right back into his certainty that she was more than she said she was; no one could possibly do this without intending to twist the knife. He almost read her the riot act then and there, but then remembered that Launchpad would probably come to her rescue and tie him up, or something. Without the first idea of what to say or how this should go, he took a breath and lied again. "Nooooo, no no… Whatever could make you think *that*?"
There was a pause - he still couldn't see her face - and she said in a wobbly voice, "S-so you don't want me to leave?"
*Well-played, Beth Webfoot,* he thought. She was crafty. “Who, me? *Perish* the thought,” he said through gritted teeth.
With a slight sniffle she said, "Oh... Okay..." They paused and neither of them looked at each other, and then she said more loudly, "Boy, I sure feel silly over all this. Gosh. I'm - I'm really sorry."
"Oh, no, no no. Think nothing of it." Inwardly Drake was cringing, and wondering if he was really doing the right thing. Well, he was stuck with her now, so he’d *have* to be the one to take down her criminal empire – or whatever it was she was leading up to. "I mean, things... happen. No matter how much we might wish otherwise, am I right?"
"Sure," she said, and nodded. "Oh, Mr. Mallard ... I'm really sorry, also, about - about butting into your conversation."
Unexpectedly, he felt another flash of guilt when she said that, and he squirmed a little under her gaze. "Look, Ms. Webfoot-"
"Call me Beth!" she said instantly; it almost made him think she'd been waiting all this time for a chance to say that. "Um, please."
He winced. "Okay... Beth. Look, let's not even think about it again, huh?" She nodded, looking a little peppier than she had, and he was reminded of a puppy. "Okay, great, so we're settled. Look, I've got to get ready to go, so - so I'll just see you next time, right? We're paid up for the week?"
"Oh yes!" she said, nodding, and then looked thoughtful for a moment. He tried to escape before she spoke again, but she caught him halfway out the door. "Oh! Oh Mr. Mallard!"
He wondered if he could get away with not returning the first-name favour. With a sigh, he decided he probably couldn't. "Drake," he said wearily, turning back to face her. Her entire face brightened.
"I totally forgot what it was I was coming in to say to you! See, Gosalyn had asked me if she could have a friend over tonight and I wasn't sure what you'd think about that so I said I would ask you, I mean, it's pretty much okay with *me* but I don't know YOUR policy on the matter so I figured it was better to ask and be sure so that you didn't-"
"Okay okay, I get it. Are we talking about Honker?"
She looked a little blank, but said, "Is he the next-door neighbour?"
"Yep."
"Then yes, that must be right. Is that okay with you?"
"Sure, sure. Honker comes over all the time. Just make sure Gos doesn't force him to do her homework and there won't be any problems." He started out through the door again, and again she stopped him.
"Dr-Drake? One more thing. Um... is Honker... is he very much like - well, what I mean is-"
He knew what she was trying to ask, as she searched for a tactful way of asking without possibly insulting his daughter. "He's nothing like Gos. He's quiet and studious - you'll like him."
"Oh." She smiled, appearing to relax, and gave him a little wave. He returned it half-heartedly, and did his best to make sure she didn't see him roll his eyes on the way out. The last thing he needed now was to go through the whole darn thing over again.
***
The door to the kitchen opened slowly, almost carefully, and then Drake stepped out. Launchpad watched him, and when he didn’t say anything, Launchpad prompted him a little. “So..?”
Drake turned a look on him that Launchpad couldn’t exactly identify. It was sort of accusatory and annoyed, but also underneath it seemed like it was kind of fumbling and remorseful. It was definitely a glare, though, and Launchpad felt more sheepish every second it was turned on him. After a moment, Drake said, “So I apologized.”
...etc...
Friday, October 9, 2009
TWC 1 Deleted Scene
"Wow! This is just like a DVD!" I hear you saying to yourself, or perhaps to your friend or loved one as you eagerly read this blog together, as is your weekly tradition. (Oh yes, I know all about the life you lead.)
Anyway, though. From the length of my fics these days it probably seems I don't do any editing at all; contrary to that, though, I actually go over everything I write and take out things that don't really have any purpose. No, seriously, I do. *G* If the scene worked, other than just looking like padding, then I keep it in a separate file. So I thought, might as well post some here, right?
This then is a scene that originally came at the start of Act II, Chapter 3 of "Double-Plait Bolt". It's fairly short, but was long enough that I felt it would make a difference in the length if I snipped it; plus it didn't say anything I couldn't leave inferred or just put someplace else. Here is Beth getting ready, and being a nervous wreck, to take the bolt to Drake. For context I'm including the first paragraph of the next scene, which is actually the first scene in the released version of the chapter. Enjoy! I'd love any feedback!
****
Beth awoke with a jerk, surrounded by hardware manuals and encylopedias. The light in her bedroom was on and judging from the odd feeling in her cheek, she'd fallen asleep with her face on the edge of a book again. She touched the cheek gingerly, and found a medium-sized groove on the side of her face.
She groped for her glasses, came up empty, and realized they were still on her face; after adjusting to that, she fumbled for the clock instead and found it was nearly six-thirty a.m. Only about four hours since she'd fallen asleep, assuming she hadn't made it far since the last time she'd checked the clock. The idea of "research" on the double-plait bolts had seemed like a good one at one in the morning, but now it was starting to look as if she may have sabotaged herself. She wanted to get to Drake Mallard's house before he left for work, whenever that might be, and so she was going to have to hurry.
Her shower was necessarily quick, and as she dashed around her house getting dressed she rehearsed and revised what she'd say. "Mr. Mallard, I know this is unexpected, but we like to be very efficient at Bindler's." That sounded okay, but she could do better.
"We go the extra step for our customers!" she told her reflection as she paused before brushing her teeth. "That was really good. More like that. Um..." She thought, squeezing the toothpaste tube absently, and ended up with about a triple serving of toothpaste on her brush. "Ack! Gross!"
Her hair was dry enough. She brushed it fifty times, swept it forward over her shoulders, pushed it back, tied it with a barrette, and finally pulled it back in a ponytail. She thought about her bangs, if she should try parting them a different way; but when she pushed them around, no matter what she tried they just looked fluffy and shapeless, so she combed them with her fingers back to the way they always were.
She couldn't seem to sit still, so she wandered back into the living room, then picked up the bolt and examined it. Double-plait bolts were so *odd* looking, she couldn't quite figure out whose idea they had been. They all came with a standard curve to the body of the bolt, which made them incredibly specialized; surely no one would think of designing anything that would need a bolt like this unless the bolt already existed, so it wasn't as if they'd been created to fill a specific need.
What if he'd already found one? Could he have found one since eleven o'clock the night before? That seemed unlikely. She tried to imagine what he would say when she presented the bolt to him. Would he be grateful? Would he be impressed with her dedication? Maybe he'd just be relieved that whatever it was he needed the bolt for would finally be finished. Maybe he'd tell her all about what it was. If he didn't tell her, maybe she should ask, to show that she was interested. She looked in the mirror and smiled, trying to find the shape or look that was most becoming to her face. "You really don't owe me anything," she said quietly, modestly, to her reflection. "I could tell this was important to you, so I thought it was a good idea to rush. Oh, no, I couldn't possibly take any money. ...Dinner? Well... Gosh, this is so unexpected..."
She thought seriously, for a moment or two, about tying a bow around it and putting it in a little box. It seemed like a great, fun idea for about three seconds, and then she suddenly realized that it was a crazy idea and that if she did it, he would think she was insane. She'd probably look like she worked in a hardware store out of a simple love of hardware, which was nothing like the case.
The clock told her that it was eight past seven. She needed to get going. She looked all over her kitchen table for Drake Mallard's address and phone number, finally found it under a book of local street maps, and remembered that she hadn't written out her directions yet. Thank goodness, he lived on a street that was only about twenty minutes' walk away from her! It was so coincidental that it seemed almost preordained.
She grabbed the bolt, her bag, and a jacket, and with her heart thudding in her chest, she scurried out the door.
***
The month of September was not generally among Gosalyn Mallard's favourite months, for various reasons, but it did have a few things going for it. Baseball and soccer were both in full season, which was a plus since it meant there was usually *something* on TV, and even the obvious downside - returning to school - was a little offset by getting to catch up with some friends who you usually lost touch with over the summer.
etc...
Anyway, though. From the length of my fics these days it probably seems I don't do any editing at all; contrary to that, though, I actually go over everything I write and take out things that don't really have any purpose. No, seriously, I do. *G* If the scene worked, other than just looking like padding, then I keep it in a separate file. So I thought, might as well post some here, right?
This then is a scene that originally came at the start of Act II, Chapter 3 of "Double-Plait Bolt". It's fairly short, but was long enough that I felt it would make a difference in the length if I snipped it; plus it didn't say anything I couldn't leave inferred or just put someplace else. Here is Beth getting ready, and being a nervous wreck, to take the bolt to Drake. For context I'm including the first paragraph of the next scene, which is actually the first scene in the released version of the chapter. Enjoy! I'd love any feedback!
****
Beth awoke with a jerk, surrounded by hardware manuals and encylopedias. The light in her bedroom was on and judging from the odd feeling in her cheek, she'd fallen asleep with her face on the edge of a book again. She touched the cheek gingerly, and found a medium-sized groove on the side of her face.
She groped for her glasses, came up empty, and realized they were still on her face; after adjusting to that, she fumbled for the clock instead and found it was nearly six-thirty a.m. Only about four hours since she'd fallen asleep, assuming she hadn't made it far since the last time she'd checked the clock. The idea of "research" on the double-plait bolts had seemed like a good one at one in the morning, but now it was starting to look as if she may have sabotaged herself. She wanted to get to Drake Mallard's house before he left for work, whenever that might be, and so she was going to have to hurry.
Her shower was necessarily quick, and as she dashed around her house getting dressed she rehearsed and revised what she'd say. "Mr. Mallard, I know this is unexpected, but we like to be very efficient at Bindler's." That sounded okay, but she could do better.
"We go the extra step for our customers!" she told her reflection as she paused before brushing her teeth. "That was really good. More like that. Um..." She thought, squeezing the toothpaste tube absently, and ended up with about a triple serving of toothpaste on her brush. "Ack! Gross!"
Her hair was dry enough. She brushed it fifty times, swept it forward over her shoulders, pushed it back, tied it with a barrette, and finally pulled it back in a ponytail. She thought about her bangs, if she should try parting them a different way; but when she pushed them around, no matter what she tried they just looked fluffy and shapeless, so she combed them with her fingers back to the way they always were.
She couldn't seem to sit still, so she wandered back into the living room, then picked up the bolt and examined it. Double-plait bolts were so *odd* looking, she couldn't quite figure out whose idea they had been. They all came with a standard curve to the body of the bolt, which made them incredibly specialized; surely no one would think of designing anything that would need a bolt like this unless the bolt already existed, so it wasn't as if they'd been created to fill a specific need.
What if he'd already found one? Could he have found one since eleven o'clock the night before? That seemed unlikely. She tried to imagine what he would say when she presented the bolt to him. Would he be grateful? Would he be impressed with her dedication? Maybe he'd just be relieved that whatever it was he needed the bolt for would finally be finished. Maybe he'd tell her all about what it was. If he didn't tell her, maybe she should ask, to show that she was interested. She looked in the mirror and smiled, trying to find the shape or look that was most becoming to her face. "You really don't owe me anything," she said quietly, modestly, to her reflection. "I could tell this was important to you, so I thought it was a good idea to rush. Oh, no, I couldn't possibly take any money. ...Dinner? Well... Gosh, this is so unexpected..."
She thought seriously, for a moment or two, about tying a bow around it and putting it in a little box. It seemed like a great, fun idea for about three seconds, and then she suddenly realized that it was a crazy idea and that if she did it, he would think she was insane. She'd probably look like she worked in a hardware store out of a simple love of hardware, which was nothing like the case.
The clock told her that it was eight past seven. She needed to get going. She looked all over her kitchen table for Drake Mallard's address and phone number, finally found it under a book of local street maps, and remembered that she hadn't written out her directions yet. Thank goodness, he lived on a street that was only about twenty minutes' walk away from her! It was so coincidental that it seemed almost preordained.
She grabbed the bolt, her bag, and a jacket, and with her heart thudding in her chest, she scurried out the door.
***
The month of September was not generally among Gosalyn Mallard's favourite months, for various reasons, but it did have a few things going for it. Baseball and soccer were both in full season, which was a plus since it meant there was usually *something* on TV, and even the obvious downside - returning to school - was a little offset by getting to catch up with some friends who you usually lost touch with over the summer.
etc...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)