A/N: If Double D has an official last name, I was not aware of it. If anyone knows it, feel free to correct me. For the time being, I took the liberty of giving him a last name, modeled on the last name of the author of Fountainhead. It was a bit of irony I thought she'd appreciate. ;)

Double D's speech is totally anti- Ayn Rand, and I tried to make it as bullshit-ty as possible. Rin's bit at the end may seem a bit random, but there is a connection.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the cartoons used, or the lyrics to Moon River. Hell, I don't own anything, although I wish I owned that Baby the Stars Shine Bright dress Rin wears.

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The faint sound of Pomp and Circumstance playing threatened to send Double D into a complete mental breakdown. He paced, wringing his hands. "Writing is an art form unique from……" he muttered under his breath, trying to remember the rest of his speech. But his mind was blank.

Wendy Testaburger opened the door, hesitant, holding up the hem of her long white dress, required for all the graduating girls.

"Eddward, you're up." She was the only girl who ever called him by his full name, and usually that made him smile. Today, though, all he could manage was a grimace, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He took a deep breath and followed Wendy out the door and to the auditorium.

"Please don't make me have another lapse in memory….please don't make me….." Double D muttered under his breath, each step he took made his knees weaker as he approached the stage.

"……and now Columbia University's class of 2009 valedictorian, Eddward Randall."

Double D gripped the edge of the podium, opening his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He could barely make out the faces of each individual person watching him, but the dark shadows lumped together in the middle of his field of vision indicated a large crowd. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, he tried to swallow but the lump in his throat prevented him from doing so.

He glanced at Wendy, sitting with the other girls on the right; she looked up at him with her bright cerulean eyes, as if to say, "I know you can do it."

He took a deep breath and faced the crowd, "Writing is an art form unique from all others. Unlike a painter, who shows what he means to say with pictures, we authors must tell our tales with words, leaving the pictures to the minds of the readers. Writing is composed of structure and infused with traditions, passed down by classic authors who have lit the path for us, the next generation. We can only hope to recreate such beauty with our own words. Therefore, we shall go into this world with the knowledge of those before us and make ourselves successes that shall be a reflection upon everything we have gained here…….." Imbued with confidence, Double D continued with more fervor than he had started with, all of his nervousness gone.

He made his way back to his seat, his ears ringing with the uproarious applause coming from the crowd. The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur; he didn't even remember crossing the stage when the dean called his name. Yet the diploma rested in his hands. The band played some lame song and it was all over. He felt strangely…..deflated. He had always shined in high school, and even further in college, on the honor roll every semester. Now that was past, and what was he going to do? Who would remember him? No one, unless he did something about it. And that did not include being a self published author living in some crappy ass apartment in Brooklyn. No. He had to do bigger things than that.

"Great speech!"

"Whoa, dude, that was like, awesome and deep and stuff."

He felt a hand tap him on the shoulder, it was Wendy. "Beautiful speech, Eddward," she said, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Thanks Wendy. Would you care to-" A nasal voice with a thick Rhode Island accent interrupted him, "Eddward, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I mean, yes."

She brandished a business card, the type that looked like it had been monogrammed at Tiffany's. "Lois Pewter-Schmidt. I'm-"

"I know who you are," Double D said eagerly, looking up into her eyes with a lovesick expression. "Former Executive Editor of the New Yorker, on the bestseller list for six weeks straight….."

"Now the dean at Constance Billard School for Girls." Lois finished his sentence for him. She lit a cigarette; Wendy walked away in disgust. Double D barely noticed her departure; he was too busy watching Lois' every move.

"That was a fine speech, Eddward. I just may have a place for you at Constance."

Double D tried to fight the smile he knew was working its way across his face. "I would be honored to be graced with your presence, Ms. Pewter-Schmidt."

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Listen, kid," she took a drag from her cigarette, "I'm hosting this party at Soho House tonight. Be there, if you want that job."

"O-of course," Double D squeaked, gazing at her in awe. He only managed to take a few wobbling steps before passing out cold from the shock.

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There was nothing Rin loved more than sitting at her desk, the sewing machine humming and her feet pushing the pedal in a familiar, steady rhythm. Fabric seemed to have so many possibilities, just waiting for Rin to guide it into being something else. So she did, creating dresses that were more confection than clothing.

The most delicate of ruffles, made of soft, translucent georgette, trimmed with lace, fine spun into an airy texture. Each piece complimented each other perfectly, it was the way lace, cotton, and velvet were supposed to look, but never knew how. And Rin's hands brought them to life.

Time passed at record speed, hours morphed into seconds as Rin hummed along with the machine's purring. That is, until she glanced at the chrome cat clock perched on a dresser, the type you'd see in a fifty's diner.

Seven o' clock. Damn, she was late.

Quick, quick, quick. The rustle of petticoats and the pounding of footsteps reached a frantic pace. Find the right dress- a lavender Baby one, with a soft floral print and long, romantic, princess sleeves. Putting on the pearl necklace, the matching Alice bow. Last, but not least, stepping into a pair of white rocking horse shoes, tying the ribbon laces around her ankles. A squirt of perfume and Rin was out the door, running down the stairs at light speed.