First - yes, this is a vignette.
Second - in case anyone has been wondering, here's why I haven't written anything in about a year or so. First, I was very sick for awhile (I'm all better now), then I was working so often that a 60-hour workweek felt like a vacation. For about a month my work schedule was so bad, I was literally working 120 hours a week (and yes, if you do the math, that means I was NOT working just under 7 hours a day ... so yes, I woke up, I worked, I took a nap, I worked some more). For the past month or so, I've had a normal work schedule, and honestly? I've been bored out of my ever-loving mind. I could not for the life of me remember what it was I used to do when I wasn't working. I mentioned this to my mom and she (bless her) reminded me that I used to write Big Gay Fic.
Third - >really< long-overdue replies, in which I shall endeavor to pretend like it hasn't been almost a year since I've done this (re-reading this entire thread helped ... if it weren't for you seriously awesome reader-type people, I doubt I'd be giving this another shot).
**darkmagicwillow: I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the nerd!sex thing was not my fault. You're the one who got into the slinky little mathematical formula, and then lipkandy had "You Complete My Square" going ... I'm only human, for crying out loud. And, hey - if that novel's still unfinished, I vote for working on it. Seriously. As for The Lost Vignette, and the kiss that cut the geekiness short, if it makes you feel better, it was a very geeky kiss

I'm glad you loved The Morning After - this is the part where, usually, I'd start talking about what I was going for, and comparing that to what you got out of it, but honestly? At this point, I don't remember writing it. I am still, however, grateful for your comments, and very please that you found it to be sweet, romantic, and perfect. So thank you.
**LittlestSmurf: I believe I would have the exact same reaction to that song playing in a bar. As a matter of fact, I'm laughing just thinking about that song playing in a bar - thank you

**thebardgirl: And the fact it has taken me almost ten months to reply to the Charley Chaplin outfit is a crime. Because the outfit is, indeed, fabulous, and the melodramatics were delightful and totally cracked me up - so thank >you< for posting them. So here's some water to go with this update (hopefully, somebody else you've managed to get some water in the meantime, because if not, that would be >so< bad), and I'm sorry it's taken me so long.
**wilgen: Yes, "The Late Shift" is definitely one of my favorites - and while I can read and work at the same time (database updates take awhile, y'know, and when I'm working from home ... it's not a problem), I really can't >write< and work at the same time. I apologize for this deficiency (no sarcasm intended ... I seem to recall a time when I could, in fact, multi-task enough that I could write and work at the same time when working from home ... this is no longer the case, hence the total lack of vignettes). And thank you - I find having my brain compared to wiccachica's (and not found lacking

) to be a high compliment, indeed. Though, this update is not, in fact, silly. I will, however, get to work on one that is.
Fourth ... the vignette.
Series: Vignettes
Number: 43
Title: That's When She Knew
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com , or posted here.
Spoiler Warning: Set Sometime After - no spoilers. Unless you weren't aware that Willow and Tara are Always, in which case, you're already spoiled by reading this. Heh.
Summary: Tara's having a little trouble with the creative impulse.
Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters. I’m just borrowing them, because it’s lots and lots of fun.
Rating: PG-13
That's When She Knew
Part 43 of the Vignettes Series
By Sassette
Tara stared at the blank piece of canvas in front of her, brush and palette in hand. And she stared, and stared some more, long moments passing, as the daunting whiteness in front of her waited with infinite patience for Tara to fill it with ... something.
But Tara's mind was as blank as the canvas, and she put the palette down on the table next to her, amidst the paints and other brushes, and sat down in the comfy chair, having no fear of leaving paint on its pristince surface, because, tragically, she herself was equally pristine.
She closed her eyes for a moment and wondered what she would do if nothing came. Willow had put so much thought and effort into this, whisking her away on a vacation while Xander remodeled their attic into a studio as a surprise for her when she'd gotten home.
It had been something they'd talked about - not having a home studio, but Tara's drawing and painting. Willow had, in all innocence, asked her why she didn't draw anymore. Something that gave her that much joy was something she shouldn't give up, Willow had said, and had bitten the bullet and just flat-out asked why she had.
Tara couldn't answer, of course, because she hadn't even noticed. One day had just led to the next, and the next and the next, until she'd woken up one day and not even thought about it. Her life was so full, with work, chores, friends and family, the whole saving-the-world thing, and quiet time with Willow, that she hadn't even noticed the lack until Willow had pointed it out.
And then Willow had arranged all this.
Tara opened her eyes and looked around, a little smile curling the corner of her mouth. Willow certainly never did anything halfway. She could've just bought a sketchpad and some pencils, but no.
At that, Tara's little grin turned into a full-fledged smile, and she shook her head and laughed. She'd been absolutely astounded when Willow had brought her up here after their vacation. Totally flummoxed. Completely speechless.
Then Willow, of course, had broken into a nervous speech about how she was really sorry if this was too much, and she should've asked first, and on and on, worried about Tara's lack of reaction, and Tara had assured her this was fine. Better than fine - it was wonderful that Willow had gone to all this trouble to give back to Tara something she, herself, hadn't even noticed was missing.
But it had been missing, and once Tara had been made aware of it, she'd felt it keenly. There was something so peaceful and calming about painting and drawing. Capturing images down balanced her, giving her an outlet for something - like this well of creativity - that would otherwise just build up.
Except, now, it seemed like that well had gone dry in the intervening years.
Tara stood, and moved back to the canvas, picking up the palette and brush, and stared at the blank whiteness.
"Baby?" came a hesitant voice from the door, and Tara turned, to see Willow poking her head in. "Dinner's soon."
"Already?" Tara asked.
"It's almost six," Willow said, a pleased smile crossing her face. "Things must be going good, because you've been up here all day."
"Umm ... not so much," Tara admitted, biting her lower lip and turning the easel around so the blank canvas was facing Willow.
Willow stepped into the room and walked over to the canvas, making a great show of peering at it closely. "A snowman in a snowstorm?"
"Umm ... no," Tara said, walking around to stand next to Willow, the palette and brush still in her hand. "I was thinking something more symbolic ... something like ... potential."
"That's very deep," Willow said, nodding sagely. "And it certainly does have potential. I mean, here it is, and it could be anything at all."
"I think that's the problem," Tara admitted with a little sigh. "I don't know if I can do this - it's just so ... blank."
"Hmm ..." Willow said thoughtfully, lifting her hand and tapping her forefinger against her chin. "Okay, we can fix that," she said, then gently, but firmly, took the brush from Tara's fingers and dipping it against the palette, picking up some black paint.
With no preamble or thought, Willow made a black mark agains the sheer whiteness of the canvass - a kind of swooping little line that glistened wetly in the light.
"There. Not blank," Willow said with a little shrug, handing the brush back.
Tara looked at that mark, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head a little, gazing at it thoughtfully, before turning back to Willow, who seemed to be staring intently at her shoes.
"Willow?" Tara said softly, and Willow raised her head, a sheepish expression on her face.
"Was that out of line? I'm sorry, that was out of line, wasn't it?" Willow began.
And that's when Tara knew.
In that moment, when their eyes met, Tara knew she and Willow were forever. She had made the choice to spend her life with Willow years ago, and so in a way she had already known, but then - in that instant - she knew that she and Willow weren't a choice: they just >were<, and they always would be.
And she knew soul-deep it was so inexorably true that if the Goddess came down from on high and said that Willow wasn't the one, Tara would laugh in her face.
She dropped the palette and brush on the spotless floor, stopping the torrent of words that were spilling forth from Willow, paint drops splattering against their shoes and pants, and she laughed.
"Umm ..." Willow said, trailing off and smiling reflexively at the sound of Tara's laugh, before her lips were otherwise occupied with Tara's pressed against them. "Mmph."
Tara stepped closer, kicking the palette out of her way, smearing paint across the floor and wrapping her arms around Willow's shoulders tightly, pulling them close together. Willow's arms came around her waist and she sighed against those oh-so-soft lips.
She kissed Willow soundly, joyously, pouring all of the love she didn't have words for into this kiss that would have to speak for her.
"I guess I wasn't out of line, then," Willow said dazedly, after long, heated moments.
"Nope," Tara said, shaking her head and grinning.
"I'll just, umm ... go put dinner on warm, then," Willow said, backing reluctantly out of Tara's arms, and practically stumbling to the door on weakened knees. "You, umm .. paint."
"Willow?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Willow said, almost shyly, before looking up and smiling at Tara and ducking out the door.
A cheerful off-key whistling trailed off as Tara listened to Willow heading downstairs, and her smile broadened because she couldn't help it.
With dancing eyes and a lightened heart, Tara readied her palette again, and started to paint.[/b]