There was a curious sense of numb detachment as Twilight’s body collapsed to its knees like a marionette whose strings had been severed. There was a curious roaring echo in her ears as she dimly noted that such a collapse would have, in the waking world—for surely she had to be caught in some kind of terrible nightmare—would have left her bruised and aching, and at the moment, with her heart pounding in her ears, she could barely feel her body to tell if it hurt or not. A sarcastic part of her mind that sounded more bitter than anything pointed out, “If its a nightmare, at least it had the decency to leave you clothed…” She brushed the errant thought away, unable to focus on anything beyond the want—need, really—to scream or cry or…something…anything…that would wake her up.

Lavender fingers scrabbled futilely against linoleum tiles that were too slick and somehow greasy under her fingertips, and she was overcome with the sensation that any moment now her digits would push through the surface into something even more horrific. Abstract patterns and lines that before gave the impression of a faux wood grain seemed to melt and warp before her sight, twisting into a hellish representation of agonized, screaming faces. Around her, scraps of paper—that was her handwriting, her research, please, no—slid just out of reach, moving on unnatural gusts of air that felt far too warm and fetid against her skin in a building that was always cold, as if some monstrous thing were behind her, unseen and breathing down her neck.

As she scrabbled, growing frantic, broken bits of electronics and wiring skittered like metallic insects in shadows that oozed, too black and opaque to be just darkness, from all the corners of the room, bringing with them faint cacophony of unintelligible but decidedly unpleasant whispers—her classmates? Had they done this? Who else would have? But why??—and the susurration of distant, mocking laughter.

Twilight Sparkle choked on bile that rose in her throat, thick and burning and corrosive, and in her rising panic, all she could think of was Sunset. She desperately needed the warmth of flame, of amber and the smell of sunlight, to draw her out of this nightmare landscape she was imprisoned in. Stiff, numb fingers that felt like they were moving through molasses, barely responding to her mind’s commands, searched her pockets for the phone she knew should be there. Relief ghosted over her before anxiety swallowed it whole, and shaking hands struggled to get to Sunset in her contacts, raw, animal terror rising as a chittering sound grew closer, eclipsing any other noise with the way it drilled into her skull painfully.

Her breath turned to gasping sobs as she typed, words scrambled and misspelled, a desperation personified in an amalgamation of sentences and broken characters that her mind tried to force into some semblance of coherence. The image of her smiling girlfriend at the top of the screen was her only lifeline to sanity, and she gripped the phone like a talisman, trying to will the older girl into existence at her side.

“Breathe, Sparky…” A faint sense of a whisper broke through the noise, but it was gone almost before she registered it, and she curled into herself, caught in a loop of her own fear.

This is a nightmare…it's not real…this can't be happening…make it stop…

As if in counterpoint to the inhuman sounds, a thread of all too human laughter, stifled—possibly behind a hand—tickled her ears. It was…familiar…the actions of an adolescent trying to avoid sharing their mirth, lest it garner adult attention.

So it was her classmates…they had swept her lab clean, destroyed months of work, all to see her falter and fail…

Yet it was crisp tones that followed, not the sniggering mockery of her peers. Each word was too precise, as frigid as if it had been carved from crystallized nitrogen ice. “While your devotion to maintaining school property is…entirely admirable, Miss Sparkle, I do believe such a menial chore as collecting what trash remains in your former laboratory can be safely entrusted to the janitorial staff.”

Cold lightning shot through Twilight as she turned her face upwards toward the voice, her body left wreathed in ice and her stomach twisting nauseously. There, staring down at her was the immaculately groomed visage of Principal Cinch, expressionless eyes somehow giving off the impression of a viper, poised to strike.

What? Cinch had taken her lab away? Why? The woman was pleased on Friday with her progress—or at least she had seemed so, providing the rare words of praise that had bolstered her confidence despite her difficulties with the scanner. Why would she do this? Maybe not the lab, but to throw away all of Twilight’s data and work? Without letting her know some line had been crossed?

“Up.”

The single word, laced with venom, brought Twilight to her feet before she even had time to register what was happening. Her senses reeled, her stomach churned, and she could feel the tears on her face still making their way down her cheeks to drip to the floor.

Principal Cinch turned sharply on her heel, movements as neat as a drill sergeant, yet elegant enough to be more at home in the courts of old. To blurry eyes, shadows swirled out behind the attenuated figure with the motion, like some kind of oily black cloak that billowed before it vanished between one blink and the next, leaving the teen dizzy and disoriented.

“Come.”

A second command, as cold and devoid of emotion as the first broke the air, and the dark haired girl found her feet moving of their own volition to obey. Dimly, amidst the sensory overload and the racing thoughts, she became aware of a shadowy figure that stepped up, a little behind and to one side of her. Scrubbing her eyes furiously, she focused on wilted green smudged with a muddy shade, and the figure resolved into Wallflower, the normally restrained girl possessing a rare smile that seemed entirely too satisfied.

Her principal began to walk, and with Wallflower urging her onward, Twilight was forced to follow. The dark haired teen did everything she could to concentrate on both making her legs move in a coordinated enough manner to approximate walking, and on breathing. Her inner voice tried counting, some part of her desperately grasping for a memory of Sunset’s reassurances, coaxing her to draw in enough oxygen with that warm, familiar voice with the faint hint of an unidentifiable accent. Twilight’s external awareness dimmed, Wallflower fading into the background until all that seemed to remain was a cheshire grin, hanging mockingly at the edge of her peripheral vision. It was still enough of a distraction to make it hard to conjure more than the faintest wisps of memory, particularly when it was paired with the way the footsteps echoed around her, somehow both too loud and close to her person, but also echoing back distantly, distorted and muffled, as if she were hearing it underwater.

The shadows in the corners of her vision returned amidst black spots as she struggled to draw in enough air to feed her oxygen starved lungs. She caught glimpses of them, too-dark things that seemed to stretch into an impossible infinity even as it felt like they were dogging her steps, as though they wanted to nip at her heels. Their very presence seemed suck the air away that she was so desperately trying to inhale, and Twilight swallowed a whimpering gasp, clenching her teeth and triggering the sensation of stinging pain on the inside of her cheek and a coppery taste on her tongue that made her want to gag had she not already been choking from the inability to draw a real breath.

Vibrations tickled her thigh, her panicked mind taking a moment to recognize it as her phone going off with a message. It bounced slightly with her movements, but even as it vibrated again the teen dared not look at the screen—she couldn’t, not with Principal Cinch right in front of her.

Her mind was too happy to jump in and supply her with the obvious answer: after the mangled message earlier, it had to be Sunset. That knowledge was a comfort she clutched at like a lifeline as the phone buzzed again, the faint sound and feeling driving the blackness back and bringing sweet relief in the form of a real breath at last. Whatever was happening, whatever had gone wrong, she told herself, her Sunny would be there for her at the end of it….she just had to hold on and get through this.

That faint thread of warmth was all that sustained her as she followed the ominous clicking of Principal Cinch’s heels through polished halls, the periodic and insistent vibration against her leg keeping her from breaking down. At first, Twilight believed them to be heading towards the woman’s office, but when they continued on beyond it without so much as slowing down, the cold weight in her stomach grew heavier. This path led to the auditorium. Was that her punishment for whatever transgression had cost her her lab? Public humiliation for her failure and shame, paraded before the school as an example of what not to do, along with the mocking laughter of her classmates following her in the halls until the day she finally left for good?

Caught as she was, the lavender skinned girl did everything she could to keep from making a sound, knowing full well that the instant she let even the barest whimper free, she would break and she wouldn't stop screaming until her voice gave out…Almost missing the moment when the Principal’s brisk clip took them past the entrance to the auditorium and continued deeper into the heart of the school, crossing an invisible and unspoken threshold to enter the set of corridors that by tradition…and more than a little covert enforcements by the inhabitants, belonged solely to the senior students.

Twilight shuddered as her mind dragged up memory from the times she’d attended classes here in her first year at the school—it was one of the reasons she’d been so happy to do the independent study projects…so she could avoid all the baleful glares and hostile murmurs that followed after her, directed at her, all for being a ‘middle schooler’ invading their territory, especially one beating them academically in every way possible. One spot in the hall brought up a particularly vicious encounter, of her back pressed to icy metal, surrounded by angry glares and—

She crushed the memory down hard, forcing herself back to the present, dismissing unimportant events from two and a half years ago. None of that mattered right now, not compared to the present. With them now deep into the senior halls, Twilight’s panic and fear was now at war with confusion, and the teen set herself to do the only thing she could in moments like this: focus on continuing to breathe, and to endure. The detached sensation of vibration against her leg was the only thing left to help ground her, each twitch like a squeeze of Sunset’s hand in her own.

After what felt like an eternity, Principal Cinch halted, abruptly enough that Twilight only just caught herself and prevented her body from colliding with the administrator. Like a bucket of icy water, cold terror went through at the the thought of almost having done something like that, and Twilight forced herself to refocus on the older woman. Just in time too, she realized, as the precisely cultured tones registered to her ears as speech—speech that was directed at her.

“Of course, I do apologize, Miss Sparkle." Her voice was crisp and cold, with an edge that Twilight couldn't quite explain—the part of her mind that sounded suspiciously like Sunset whispered that it was contemptuous amusement, but that was an unfair thought. Principal Cinch was an upstanding educator who valued her students…she gave herself a mental shake and tried to pay attention.

Principal Cinch continued, steepling her fingers. "I had planned to present this to you a great deal earlier; however, the previous occupant did not grant this honor the…respect…it was due. As such, it necessitated the outlay of significant resources to bring it back to the standard I expect a student of your caliber to... appreciate." With deliberate slowness, the woman turned towards the door they’d halted in front of.

Like a record scratch across her mind, the sound of a key turning in the lock made everything jerk to a grinding halt. And when the door opened, harsh, bright overhead lighting almost blinded her after the dimmer corridors, sending a stab of pain through her brain like an ice pick. Twilight faltered for a moment, her feet unable to move while she tried to cope with the assault on her senses.

Suddenly, there was a sharp feeling in her side, like a jab or a pinch. It sent her stumbling over the threshold into the room after the principal. The older woman smiled, a thin thing that held Twilight’s attention, even as she gestured elegantly around the room. “After all, it would not do for my…prize student…to work in substandard accommodations any longer, and quite inappropriate for me to present you with an upgraded space that resembled a low budget bachelor pad after a drunken celebration….don't you agree, Miss Blush?”

And just like that, the focus was off of Twilight for a moment, and the weight crushing her was gone—the world no longer felt like it was coming down around her ears. She could breathe again—and she did, her side aching with each glorious inhale of fresh oxygen. It banished some of the haziness, and helped slow her heart rate down from the frantic runaway gallop to something a bit more sedate…like a run.

She heard Wallflower respond, but the words themselves seemed inconsequential in lieu of what Principal Cinch had said. The phrase ‘prize student’ echoed in her mind over and over as she tried to come to terms with what was going on, overwriting her earlier assumptions. She hadn't failed or done something to disgrace herself. She wasn't being punished…

Purple eyes roved over the room, taking in the little details. Lab equipment, brand new and shiny, cabinets with plenty of space for supplies, a refrigerator for samples or experiments that needed chilling (or for stowing her lunch, the ‘Sunset portion’ of her hindbrain suggested), and plenty of space on counter tops and the workbench for her to spread out her work. And atop the surfaces, there were parts she recognized, a sheaf of notes, stacked haphazardly, her own handwriting plain to see, and even her tools, all arrayed in a fashion that was close enough to her own preference to be familiar…but just off enough to know she didn't leave them there and to trigger her need to reorganize for herself.

Except it was all here, in the large laboratory that was the coveted lab space in the school…a lab that traditionally went to a couple of senior students at the beginning of each year…A lab that she had known to already be filled. The principal’s words drifted through her mind, and so did a stab of new worry. This lab was for seniors, which she was most certainly not, and there was always a long list of the top seniors who wanted to have it for themselves. She wondered briefly how many of them had been skipped over for this space to be granted to her.

But that concern would have to wait, as Principal Cinch was speaking to her again. “Of course, you mustn’t let your focus be siphoned off by such mundanities as organization, paper filing, or errand running. The contract you signed makes allowances for a fellow student to act as your assistant, and I have taken the liberty of assigning Miss Blush to fill that role for you. I also recall that you have come across some botanical samples in the course of your search, and I believe her background in botany and horticulture shall serve you well in expediting your research results in those areas.” One of those thin smiles Cinch was known for crossed her face, this one with the barest hint of her teeth as Twilight tried to force her scrambled and disordered thoughts into some kind of order that let her comprehend what was being said. Assistant? Wallflower?

“Isn’t that great, Twilight?” Wallflower was grinning broadly, an expression so out of place for Her normally dour and sarcastic friend that it felt strange and unnatural to Twilight. “Principal Cinch offered to let me use this as a semester project to replace my science course if I help you out. Plus we’ll get to spend more time together!”

Twilight had a sour taste in her mouth. She recognized that her Principal had made the decision and she couldn't just countermand it, but she really hadn't wanted an assistant in the first place. She didn't care much for someone getting underfoot during her projects, and as much as Wallflower was her friend, this was not really a project where she wanted to have to spend time explaining every little thing she was doing to someone else when that time could be better spent actually working towards an end goal.

Now that’s not true, her mind whispered traitorously. There’s one person you’d love as an assistant.

The image of Sunset in her garage lab, wearing her spare lab coat while they tinkered with the stabilizers on her custom camera drone, the redhead’s eyes bright as she explained a change she’d come up with that would improve the drone’s maneuvering capabilities, came to her mind. No, she corrected herself. There definitely was one person she’d want in a lab with her…and it wasn't Wallflower.

Nor was Sunset just an assistant, either. In every instance so far that they’d worked together, and in every fantasy in Twilight’s mind—both the illicit and ‘safe for work’—Sunset was her lab partner, her equal in every way.

Wallflower was very much not Sunset Shimmer, and that knowledge just made her innards twist unpleasantly.

Yet there was nothing she could say or do—Principal Cinch had decided, and the other girl’s grade now depended on it. Plus, she looked so excited to be working with Twilight…to spend time with her friend…what kind of friend was Twilight being if she pushed her away?

She’d already been a less than stellar friend this year to both Wallflower and Moondancer, caught up in her projects and all the time she spent with her girlfriend. Was it right or fair to be upset about spending time with a friend? Especially one who didn't have a lot of other people in her life she seemed close with?

Guilt gnawed at her over her knee jerk reaction, and it made the hand that pressed down on her shoulder feel too heavy and painful, as if the thin fingers were digging into the nerve that crossed her collarbone. Her stomach lurched and roiled in borderline rebellion, but she forced a smile onto her face as best she could. Something socially appropriate and grateful must have passed her lips, because her principal seemed pleased with it before she departed with a final weighty statement.

“We expect great things from you, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight was left in the lab with Wallflower, the echoing, heavy sound of the door shutting feeling somehow ominous despite the circumstances…or maybe because of them.

“I did what I could to keep things together when I moved them,” Wallflower admitted. “I hope I set everything up right for you—Cinch didn't exactly give me a lot of warning…”

The words, paired with the hand still on her shoulder, felt like acid dripping steadily onto exposed nerves. “I can see that,” Twilight acknowledged, doing her best to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Thank you, Wallflower.” While it was only loosely felt, she could still do her best to express the socially acceptable amount of thanks so she didn't hurt her friend’s feelings.

“I even tried to follow that weird system of yours…doesn't really make any sense to me, but it's your stuff…” The girl shrugged.

Twilight took a deep breath, her eyes falling on things that were just enough out of place to make her hands itch with the compulsory need to fix the disorder. “I needed to do some reorganization anyway,” she said, doing her best to sound offhanded and casual. It came out strained.

“Well, that’ll give me something to do—Cinch’s orders say that I’m your assistant, but since most of your project does not involve plants, I’m basically here to keep you company and do all the menial labor and tedious tasks that might distract you from being the ‘Shining Star of CPA.’” Wallflower’s lip curled at the last part of her sentence, and even Twilight was capable of detecting the sarcasm and annoyance in the tone.

The dark haired girl took a deep breath, twisting away from Wallflower’s hand in a way that didn't make it seem she was repulsed by her friend—she really wasn't, but uninvited contact was not something she could handle when she was this keyed up. She then sank into the desk chair, depositing her phone on the empty counter surface and trying her best to rein in her thoughts and emotions, letting Wallflower’s words sink into the background for a moment, like sticks floating by in a stream’s current.

Did it really matter if Wallflower did reorganize her things? The space Twilight had felt was hers was not, and the abrupt shift to this new lab space had shown her that. This was not her space, not in the way she naively thought the old lab had been, and while she could work in it, she wasn't sure she could ever be comfortable.

This lab, and any other in the school belonged to Principal Abacus Cinch. She could inhabit it, make use of it, but only so long as she met the expectations—demands, her inner Sunny corrected with an unpleasant sneer before Twilight pushed the thought away—placed before her. Fail, and she would be removed, just like the previous occupant had been.

That’s not fair, another corner of her thoughts whispered. It's no different than what happens in the real fields of science and academia. Research funding comes with an expectation of results. In this, Principal Cinch was providing a mimicry of that, allowing her and other students the chance to adjust to the rigorous and competitive field in a safe—mental Sunny snorted derisively—a safe, she repeated mentally to drown out the facsimile of her girlfriend her mind had created, and relatively controlled environment.

Really, Twilight should have been grateful for the Principal’s foresight, and she felt guilty and ashamed that her impulsive reaction had been the desire to throw a tantrum like a toddler. She needed to stop acting like a child so often.

Her phone vibrating on the counter coaxed her out of her thoughts, especially when Wallflower saved it from falling to the floor. “Jeez, Twilight—whoever this Sunset character is, they're real hot to get a hold of you. They are blowing up your phone like crazy. Sixteen unread messages. That’s nuts.”

Right. She had yet to reply to her. “That’s my fault. I panicked earlier when I went into the old lab and I sent her a pretty incoherent text. She’s probably trying to figure out what's going on.”

Wallflower rolled her eyes. “That does not require sixteen messages in like ten minutes. Sounds like she’s desperate to me.” The phone lit up in her hand. “Oh, and now she’s calling you. You want to take this or should I tell her to get lost?”

Twilight snatched the phone back. “No!” came the yelp, before she could stop herself. “…I…I can handle it. Let me just answer this and talk to her real quick.”

The green haired girl rolled her eyes, but flopped into her own chair, playing with one of the microscopes. Twilight answered the phone, only half paying attention to her friend. “Hi, Sunset…”

“Twilight!?” Sunset’s voice on the other end sounded agitated and tense, coming out more demanding than the teen was used to hearing. “Are you okay? I couldn’t understand most of your text.”

Sighing, she hastened to reassure her girlfriend. “I’m okay, Sunset. I…jumped to conclusions and then had a panic attack as an overreaction to the whole thing.”

That seemed to do little to mollify the other girl. “Overreaction…Sparky…what happened?”

“I…” Twilight hesitated a moment, looking back at the door, then at Wallflower, who was watching intently. “It’s complicated, Sunset, and I don't really have a lot of time to talk about it right now—I need to get some work done.”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reiterated. “…can I call you tonight after dinner? I can explain then.”

Sunset made a dissatisfied sound. “…alright…” she said at last. “…we’ll talk tonight.”

Twilight winced at the frustration she could hear in those words. “I’m sorry for making you worry…” she told the redhead.

“You scared me.” Sunset’s voice had grown quiet and soft. “I was afraid something terrible had happened when I got your message…especially when you didn’t respond to me after that…”

Guilt found some new to chew on. “I’m so sorry, Sunny! I never meant that—I sent the text on accident when I was interrupted, and then I couldn’t really answer my phone right away.”

“As long as you're really okay, Sparky. That’s the important part.” Sunset exhaled noisily. “I’ll let you go—but if you do need me for anything, call or text me. I’m always here if you need me, no matter what or when.”

Twilight mumbled a neutral sounding goodbye, doing her best to keep her tone in ‘best friend’ territory, because while she was planning on introducing Sunset to Wallflower as her best friend, she wasn’t comfortable with broadcasting their intimacy yet…and Wallflower was watching her with more interest than really felt polite.

As she hung up, she sent a hurried text to said girlfriend for added reassurance. —Sunny, I'm sorry for cutting the call short, but I wasn't alone and I wasn't ready to air what I'm feeling here. If you’re available to come over tonight, I would really appreciate your company, and I could tell you better then.— Her eyes skimmed the barrage of increasingly agitated texts Sunset had sent her, and she sent a second quick text to her mom, letting her know that her day had been stressful and that she had asked Sunset to come over that night.

“Boy,” Wallflower commented as she was hitting send, “that Sunset chick seems kind of intense and pushy.”

Twilight put her phone back in her pocket. “Sunset isn't pushy,” she defended. “She was just really worried about me.”

Her friend scoffed a little. “Sure, Twilight, whatever you say. How'd you even meet someone like that?”

Discomfort spiked, making her stomach churn. “We bumped into each other in the park and got to talking,” she responded, knowing she was being evasive. “Turned out we have a lot in common and get along well, and we got to be friends.” Change the subject, Twilight. “I was actually thinking of inviting you both out for an outing with me. I…would like to introduce my old friend to my new friend.”

Wallflower raised an eyebrow. “I’m not so sure that’d be a good idea…” she said with hesitation. “How do you know this is not some repeat of freshman year? You remember that girl from your chem class, I know you do. What's to say this isn't another situation like that? She could be using you.”

Twilight shook her head, trying to avoid the memories that Wallflower had stirred up. “Sunset’s not like that. She’s been nothing but a good friend to me—she’s smart and caring and warm hearted.”

Her friend snorted. “I’ve seen plenty of girls who act like that to people they want something from. How long exactly have you known this Sunset chick that you are that confident she isn't using you for something? She’s not a student here, is she?”

Something in Wallflower's tone reminded Twilight unpleasantly of Alabaster, and her response came out somewhat shorter and snippier than she'd have preferred. "Long enough to know what kind of person she is, and that she’s not going to do that to me. As for her not attending this school…quite frankly, given how poorly most of the students here are prone to treating both of us, it would seem to me that such a fact is a positive point in her favor.”

“Sure, Twilight.” Wallflower rolled her eyes. “How did you even meet her? Since she doesn’t go to our school. It's not exactly like you’re a social butterfly.”

Frowning, Twilight felt her agitation rising and swallowed the immediate, snippy response she wanted to give at the repeated inquiry. Taking a breath was harder than she would have liked, as she fought down memories of that fateful night and tried to avoid having a reaction that her friend would detect. It was a struggle; between that and her earlier meltdown, she resigned herself to taking a dose of her anxiety medication when Wallflower dipped out to either fetch her lunch or to take a bathroom break. “We met by accident, last fall,” she responded carefully.

Cynical and skeptical, the other girl crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. “That doesn't mean you really know her.”

Twilight had reached her threshold of tolerance for what felt like an unfair interrogation. “With all respect, Wallflower, I’m not sure why the details of when and how I met Sunset are something you're so fixated on, and why you seem unwilling to at least give her a chance before you assume she’s up to some nefarious purpose.” She took another breath, let it out slowly, and continued. “What matters is we met and became very good friends, and I was hoping to introduce you, a friend whom I have known for several years, to a new friend I’ve made this year, because I think you could find common ground with her if you tried. She’s the one who helped me pick your birthday present, after all, and she’s the one who gave me recommendations for that tea we’ve been sharing during lunch since your birthday breakfast.”

Wallflower was silent, watching her with furrowed brows, and the inner Sunset in Twilight’s mind filled in with a thought that was more accurate than Twilight would have expected. “She looks like someone who just got bitten on the hind end by what she thought was a rock.”

It really did, when she looked at her carefully. The other girl finally noticed her watching, and rolled her eyes again. “If I didn't know better, I’d think this Sunset was actually some hot, rich dude and not a chick, the way you talk about her.”

Twilight laughed, nervousness making her stomach flip flop. “I didn't know what I was saying sounded like that,” she hedged. “I just…really do think she’s a good friend, and we could both use more of those.”

“…not so sure more friends is really the answer, but I guess it can't hurt to meet this Sunset for myself—form my own impression, see if she really is all that you're making her out to be…” Wallflower leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up on the counter. “So when did you want to do this?”

Oof. So.

Twilight's not having a good time at all, poor thing.

And it seems like Wallflower is wary of Sunset's intentions. I'm sure that wont cause ANY friction at all.

On the uphand...

Chapter One Hundred, folks. Holy shit. Never thought the story would last this long.

Then My editor got her mitts on it, lol.

Think I'll have a few drinks later to celebrate.

I know this arc has been huge, and I do apologize for the time its taking to get through what is essentially about 4months. This is actually the most plot dense arc in the whole story, because I'm having to lay the ground work for not only this arc's finale, but also the entire second half of the story--2-3 other arcs of material that need the foundations and things I'm setting up for.

Things will be picking up soon though--heheh.

And there is a bit of a treat or three coming up. Including one block of about 30k words I affectionately refer to as "The Double Date."

*sadistic cackling*

Now! I'm off to finish a chapter and start another!