875 replies to this topic

[Katia11]

Ooooo. Nice!!! I imagine that's not the only kinda sugar we are gonna be getting.

jk jk jk

[Mara=^.^=]

WE FINALLY HAVE A DRAFT, PEOPLE. 

[Katia11]

Way to go, friend!!!!!!!

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

Keep up the great work, Mara!

[Mara=^.^=]

FINALLY, I have written something cogent.

 

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Tex was famished by the time the Sheriff made his long-awaited appearance. His entrance was a raucous one. He stomped up the front steps, let the door slam behind him, and then clunked his way through the parlor like he had bricks strapped to his feet. The man makes more noise than the horns of Jericho, she thought. She would need to have a word with him about the advantages of stealth, but in the meantime, she portioned out the victuals. The aroma tipped him off that he was not alone. He appeared in the pantry doorway, visibly bewildered, clutching a coat under one arm. 

"What on earth…?" His mouth hung open as he surveyed the scene. "Okay," he gawked, turning toward her, "who are you, and what have you done with the vagabond who sleeps on my roof?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. He flung his coat onto the back of the kitchen chair; it landed on top of hers.

"So, what's all this, then?"

She gestured at the stove. "I made you dinner."

"Yes. I can see that."

"So sit down. I'll serve it to you."

"I'm sorry…what?" He blinked at her in disbelief.

"Do you require a map?" she asked. "Your ass," she pointed. "That chair."

He kept right on gawking. "Is that an apron? Sweet Jesus, I think I’m having a stroke."

"Stop being so melodramatic. Have a seat, before it gets cold."

"If you say so." He eyed her warily as he walked around the table and assumed his station. "But for the record, this is extremely weird. I hope you realize that."

"How is it weird?" Tex set a full plate down in front of him, followed by a clutch of utensils. "You've been preparing meals for me all week. I'm just returning the favor."

"Vortex, I live here. You're my guest. I'm supposed to cook for you."

She chose to ignore his attitude. She filled two cups with water and placed them on the table, then grabbed a dish for herself and hastily sat across from him.

"Bon appétit," she recited.

He stared down at the food. Despite his reservations, he could not resist the scent of herbs for long; he picked up his fork and knife and cut into the meat. Tex leaned forward, alert with anticipation, as he raised the morsel to his mouth. He froze halfway.

"Good God, woman, your eyes are glowing like a jackal’s. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I want to see if you like it."

He regarded her skeptically, then took a bite, and his expression immediately changed. He lowered his hand, and the utensil clinked against the plate.

"Wait a minute," he said. "This is actually good. You didn’t tell me you could cook."

She primped and preened at the compliment. "Of course I can cook. I can do anything."

"Evidently. What kind of meat is this? Rabbit?"

"Mm-hmm, roasted with thyme. It's an old family recipe."

He was quiet for a moment. "You put a lot of work into this, didn’t you? You hunted, and foraged…why did you do all of this for me?"

"You were kind to me last night," she said, fidgeting a little. "I wanted to do something nice to show my appreciation."

"That’s…very thoughtful of you. I mean it. Thank you."

He smiled at her, and she looked down at her plate. She picked up her fork and stabbed a carrot.

"So how was your day?" she asked.

He recounted his largely unproductive scouting mission, and Tex told him about the spiders.

"No sign of Sheen to the south or the west," he sighed. "He has been known to disappear for weeks at a time, but it’s strange that he missed breakfast with Miss Folfax. When Nick brings Goddard back on Monday, we’ll ride east to Marble Orchard and conduct a more thorough investigation."

After dinner, the two of them tidied up the kitchen, and Mr. Neutron showed her how to work his dishwashing contraption. Once everything had been put away, he ducked into the study for a couple of minutes. Tex went and checked her teeth in the washroom mirror.

She returned to the pantry, and the Sheriff reappeared, carrying a bottle of wine and a pair of long stem glasses.

"Do you like blueberry wine?" he asked.

She looked down at the bottle, then back up at him. "Sure."

"Good. Here." He passed her one of the glasses.

"Thank you."

He pulled a corkscrew from his pocket. "This bottle has been sitting on my mantle for over a year. I keep meaning to drink it, but the sad fact of the matter is, I rarely get visitors aside from Sheen and Carl." He gave her a look. "And I am not drinking blueberry wine with Sheen and Carl."

He popped the cork. She held out her glass, and he splashed dark red liquid into it; a tiny rivulet ran down the side, onto her knuckle. He filled his own glass, then nodded toward the parlor.

"This way."

Drinks in hand, they settled on the empire sofa, facing one another. She took a small sip – the alcohol was sweet, but not cloyingly so. He relaxed against the armrest and watched her as she drank.

"You’ve got a new shirt," he observed. "Did Miss Folfax give that to you?"

"Uh-huh."

He sipped his wine. "It looks good on you."

It would look better off of me, she thought.

Mr. Neutron stared at her, drumming his fingertips against the cushion. Tex got the sense that she was on display, and it made her nervous. An air of inevitability permeated the room. How would a respectable woman handle this situation? she wondered. She was ready to throw caution to the wind, but this was his house, and his life; she knew better than to overstep her bounds. Let him make the first move, if that was what he wanted.

"How’s your neck?" he asked. "Is it still sore?"

She touched the bruise reflexively. "Only a little," she downplayed. "And only on one side."

"That’s a relief." He reached behind him and plucked a leatherbound book off the side table. "Here, this is for you."

He handed it to her. She turned it over and examined the spine.

"Patent law?" she read.

"It’s not the most exciting legal subject, but it’s one of the few law-books that I own. I thought you might enjoy it."

Tex opened the cover and paged through the first chapter. "This is really comprehensive," she said.

"Make yourself comfortable," he smiled, and grabbed a book for himself.

In time, the awkward tension dissipated. She reclined against a throw pillow and propped her legs up next to him. Tome in hand, the outlaw could almost pretend that she was still the same ambitious, studious girl she’d been all those years ago. She stole frequent glances at him – he looked so scholarly, so dependable. Nostalgia tucked itself around her like a blanket.

I want all of this, she thought.

Determined to recapture her academic bona fides, she turned her full attention to the text. It was dense, but the jargon was familiar, and she made short work of it. She nursed a second glass of wine as sunset added a dab of rouge to the parlor. Presently, Mr. Neutron made a scoffing noise and scowled at his book.

"Objectionable passage?" she inquired.

"This author is a moron," he commented, angrily crunching on a candy.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you in the habit of reading books you hate?"

"On occasion. For the bloodsport."

Tex sat up. "Now there’s a hobby I can get behind." She leaned toward him, craning her neck to see the lettering. "Who’s your punching bag this time?"

"Joseph Butler. An Anglican bishop, theologian, and world-class know-it-all. He’s dead, mercifully."

"Ooh, a bishop." Tex scooched closer. "Enumerate his failings, so I can hate him properly."

"Oh boy, now there’s a can of worms I didn’t think I’d have to open."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated. "Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one."

"You’ve kept my secrets. I would never betray any of yours."

"I’m not a Christian," he admitted. "I’m a Deist. I don’t believe in miracles, or divine intervention, or holy texts. I believe in a universe governed by natural laws. My moral framework stems from reason, not revelation." He tapped the hardcover. "Joseph Butler here was a prominent detractor of Deist philosophy."

"A Deist." A snippet of long-forgotten knowledge rose up from the depths. "So you’re like Benjamin Franklin, then."

"You know about Franklin’s religious beliefs?"

"In passing. He wrote about them in his autobiography; my father kept a copy in his study."

The Sheriff looked at her approvingly. "You’re well-read," he commended. "All the same, I think you can appreciate why I keep my views to myself. If word got out that I was an apostate and a Darwinist, people would not invite me to their birthday parties."

"I’d invite you to mine. I care nothing for doctrinal sanctimony. I’m going to hell anyway."

"There’s no such thing as hell," he asserted adamantly. "Unless you count the misery we inflict upon ourselves." He rested the book against his knee. "When is your birthday?"

"June 6th. When’s yours?"

"March 14th. Libby’s is December 11th."

An unexpected lump formed in her throat. She swallowed repeatedly, but even so, she found it difficult to speak. "You’re the only person alive who knows my birthday," she quavered.

Empathy furrowed his brow. "Tex…" He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face. 

Let me stay with you, she willed.

"Sit next to me," he invited, repositioning himself. "If you’ll permit the encroachment, I’ll put my arm around you."

He did not have to ask her twice. She crawled across the sofa and settled into the crook of his arm. His body was a furnace in the summer heat, his pulse a ticking clock. She snuggled as close as she dared, then opened up her book, and he did the same. After that, conversation alternated with periods of companionable silence, until the rose-glow of sunset gave way to the murky blues of dusk.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I need to fetch some candles. Don’t go anywhere."

He extricated himself and briefly left the room. Tex, who had acclimated to his temperature, shivered at the sudden chill. She picked up the pillow and clutched it to her chest while she waited for him to return.

"A kerosene lamp for light," he narrated as he entered, "and a candelabra for ambience." 

He set the former on the mantle and brought the latter with him to the couch. Tex absently reached for a Hub Wafer as he rearranged things on the side table. Her nail clinked against the glass – the candy bowl was empty.

"Do you want some dessert?" he asked.

The pair embarked on a candlelit foray into the pantry. She had not thought to prepare an after-dinner treat, but he had something special in reserve. He removed a wax-paper parcel from one of the drawers and handed it to her. Inside were dainty chunks of sugar in the shape of maple leaves.

"What are these?" she squinted.

"Maple candies. A gift from Sam, a confectioner back East. When I was a kid, he ran a shop called the Candy Bar. His wife Tessie was an abolitionist, and she used to hand out free maple products to people passing by. She wrote little rhymes on the packaging to call attention to the evils of the sugar cane industry."

"What kind of rhymes?"

He thought for a moment. "It’s been so long, I can only remember one. It went: ‘Take this, my friend, you need not fear to eat. No slave hath toiled to cultivate this sweet’."

"Clever." She removed a leaf and inspected it. "My father was an abolitionist," she shared. "The Framers were his heroes – especially Adams, who detested slavery. My mother, on the other hand, was a Confederate. It caused a lot of tension in our household."

"What was your opinion on the matter?"

"I sided with my dad," she shrugged. "I always did, on everything. Besides, I coveted the right to vote, and the abolitionists and suffragists were allies." She popped the candy into her mouth. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, as it melted like butter on her tongue. "This is amazing!"

"Have as many as you like. Sam’s an old curmudgeon, but he’ll send me another packet next year, just like he always does."

Tex indulged herself, then gave him back the parcel. He shifted uncomfortably when she licked the sticky residue from her fingers.

They returned to the parlor and read together for another hour or so. Afterward, Tex persuaded him to climb up onto the roof with her. They lay shoulder-to-shoulder on the corrugated shingles, gazing up at the incandescent sky. A barred owl in a copse of trees hooted dolefully; in the distance, its mate called back to it. Elsewhere, a host of nocturnal choristers hinted at a complex world indifferent to their presence. They were the only humans for miles.

"What about that one?" He pointed upward, tracing a path between the stars. "Cassiopeia?"

"That’s the Sidewinder," she said.

"And there?" He moved his hand. "Ursa Minor?"

"That one’s called the Hangman’s Noose."

"Don’t you have any pleasant constellations in your sky?" he asked, rolling onto his side.

She turned to face him. They were huddled so closely together that the conversation felt like a secret.

There’s one, she thought, but he’s new. 

"Heh." He chuckled and shook his head.

"What?"

"Sorry, lying next to you like this – it reminded me of something. Do you want to hear a funny story?"

"Absolutely."

"A couple of years ago, after I rejected McSpanky’s slack-jawed, pinhead niece, my parents tried to set me up with the daughter of a different blueblood family. These people were old money – eccentric, and reclusive. I’d heard stories about them; I knew they kept this girl on a short leash. I felt bad for her, so I agreed to a meeting."

"What happened?"

"Turns out, these folks were Pennsylvania Dutch, and they still observed centuries-old courtship practices. Have you ever heard of Bundling?"

"Not that I recall," she replied.

"So picture this: I’ve never met this young lady, right? But the next thing I know, her parents are escorting both of us into her bedroom. They made us lie down together on the bed, and then they put a board between us."

"A board?"

"Yes. A wooden board. They didn’t explain any of this, mind you; they just blew out the candles and left the room."

"Shut the front door!" she exclaimed.

"So I’m lying next to this random woman, in complete darkness, trying to think of something intelligent to say. A couple of minutes pass, and I start to hear snoring coming from the other side of the partition."

"She fell asleep?"

"She fell asleep! I couldn’t believe it. I had bored her into slumber with my silence."

Tex nearly doubled over. "Hell’s flaming bells!" she cackled gleefully. "A whole mansion full of cranks. Heaven help the sorry sod who marries into that family."

"Why do you think I ran for the hills?"

The outlaw looked up at the sky again; slowly, her mirth faded. "Were all the women back home truly so distasteful to you? Surely there must’ve been someone you could stomach."

"There was one," he admitted. "An older woman – an instructor, at Vassar college. I met her while I was visiting New York. I expressed interest in her work as an astronomer, so she took me under her wing for a semester. I acted as her unofficial research assistant, and she taught me some…things."

She raised an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah. Things."

"Are you telling me," she said, trying to keep a straight face, "that you took sex lessons from a professor?"

"Well. I wouldn’t put it like that."

She laughed and kicked her feet. It was so funny, she wasn’t even jealous.

"Look, it was an unconventional relationship, all right? I admit that."

"I can only imagine what those ‘classroom materials’ were like," she snickered.

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me about any of your relationships, so that I can have a laugh at your expense."

"Pfft. Not a chance."

There was nothing to tell. To protect herself, Tex had chosen isolation. Her romantic experience consisted of a handful of soulless, unfeeling trysts, and that was it. Women were always judged harshly for such things, so she never spoke about it.

He shifted onto his side again. "God, I could talk to you for hours. Hell, I could argue with you for hours. I haven’t known a moment’s boredom since you arrived in town."

She turned her head and looked over at him. The moon was so bright that she could make out every detail of his clothing and his face, every little eccentric imperfection that gave him character. He was magnetic.

"We could do more than just talk," she said.

Mr. Neutron fell silent. For an agonizing moment, Tex feared that she’d misstepped, but then he propped himself up and leaned over her. He blotted out the stars, and she gazed up at him invitingly, artfully draping one forearm above her head.

"You are temptation incarnate," he said quietly. He ran his hand down the length of her bandolier, fingers gliding softly, as though each bullet were a note along a golden scale.

Her breathing quickened. She could see the ardor in his eyes, rapt and fever-bright, as he focused his attention on her mouth. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and for a second, Tex was rendered speechless. This level of attraction was wholly foreign to her. I want him more than anything, she thought. More than power. More than prestige. More than victory. It threatened to upend her.

"Kiss me now," she beckoned. There was a hint of desperation to it.

He winced, then abruptly looked away. "Damn it," he whispered.

"What is it? What’s wrong?"

He did not answer right away; instead, he rolled over and got to his feet. Tex sat up in alarm.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He shook his head as he retreated toward the ledge. "I’m sorry," he said, stooping to pick up his hat. "I let things go too far. I can’t do this with a crosshair on my heart."

He climbed onto the tree. The leaves shook as he descended, and she stared after him helplessly, one hand still outstretched. She flinched when she heard the front door slam.

In his absence, the sky became a canvas painted black with her sins. A memory – she was standing in a hunter’s cabin, dead-eyed and implacable, with a cruel blade in her hand. A face, reflected in the metal – a man with bad teeth and hauntingly beautiful eyes. He huddled in the corner, whimpering like a child, as she moved toward him with the knife. Each footfall was like thunder; she was a god.

He’d begged for his life, pleaded with her, but Tex always carried out her mission to the letter. She’d felt nothing when she slashed the steel across his throat.

She felt it now.

Tex curled around herself as a wave of panic brought quakes to her limbs and sweat to her brow. Try as she might, she could not escape the restless dead, could not outrun their clutching, bony fingers. Ahead of her, a gray and empty highway stretched into tomorrow, and tomorrow, and onward toward infinity. Another contract. Another frontier town. A loneliness she’d once construed as power. Blood, and gunpowder, and ruin.

"No!" she cried aloud. I can’t go back to it. Not now. Not after tonight.

She had set foot inside a pastel dream, and now she would never be able to forget it. I want to be human again, she thought. I want holidays, and law-books, and dinner at the table. I want friends who know my birthday. I want a place to sleep at night where I don’t have to be afraid. Tex understood her limitations – without him, and without Libby, she would deny herself those things. She had walked this slow road to Perdition for so long that now she could not leave it on her own. She needed someone waiting with their hand outstretched, someone who would not put up with her excuses. Loyalty, not principle, would guide her toward redemption, if redemption was still achievable at all.

If I don’t level with him now, she realized, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. 

Tex lurched to her feet and headed for the roof edge. She gripped the tree, placed one foot upon a sturdy limb, and began her descent – nine branches, one for each of Dante’s circles. She dropped to the ground and looked at the house. Firelight. He’d gone into the parlor, so that’s where she went, too. The front door flew open with a bang.

He was by the fireplace, feeding kindling into the glowing hearth. He didn’t look up.

"There is no crosshair on your heart!" she blurted. She had one hand on the door.

"What?" He straightened and rotated toward her. "What did you say?"

Tex left the entryway. "There is no crosshair," she reiterated. "Not from me. Not for all the money in the world."

He stared blankly at her as she closed the gap between them.

"The contract’s gone," she said. "It’s sitting at the bottom of the river. But if I had it with me now, I’d rip it up and throw it in the fire. You have nothing more to fear from me."

"You got rid of it?"

Technically she’d lost it, but she let him draw his own conclusions from her words. She needed all her courage for what lay ahead.

"I’m here to offer myself up to you," she said, holding out her wrists. "If your code of justice demands retribution under law, then I’ll submit to it. Arrest me – I’ll let you take me in. I’ll confess to all my crimes, and face the hangman’s rope, like any killer should."

The nascent fire popped and sparked beside them. A look of horror crept onto his face, but he kept his mouth shut while she spoke her piece.

"But," she continued, "if you grant me clemency, I swear to you, I’ll find a new profession. No more murders. No more running. Defensive violence only. I’ll work hard to become the sort of person who’s worthy of your good opinion. Just…please. Let me stay in Retro Valley." The lump returned to her throat. "Let me stay with you."

The Sheriff blinked at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and this repeated several times. Finally, he managed to cobble together a few words.

"You want…to stay?"

"If you’ll have me." She laid one hand on his chest.

"You’re serious about this," he said in wonder. "About me."

"I know it’s selfish of me. I know I don’t deserve you. I can’t fix everything that’s wrong with me, but I’ll devote myself to you in whatever way I can."

"Tex." He placed his hand on hers. "You can’t seriously believe I would send you to the gallows. Come here."

He pulled her into his arms. He’d held her last night too, but the sensation was distinctly different now – gone was the suspicion, the ambivalence, the fear. Tex leaned into his embrace, leaned into the fealty she felt for him. She’d been a vile mercenary, but in his hands, she’d make a very faithful knight.

"Of course you can stay," he continued, drawing back to look at her. "I didn’t want you to leave anyway. Why on earth would I choose to live alone when I could have a beautiful woman move in with me instead?"

"So…no more sleeping on the roof?"

"Sleep wherever you want," he laughed. "On the table, under the bed. The furniture is yours."

Tex attempted a smile. "I promise I’ll be a good cat," she joked. "You’ll love having me around the house. I’ll bring you dead animals to eat, and I’ll only destroy some of your possessions."

He regarded her fondly. "Possessions are replaceable. Cats are not."

She buried her face against his shoulder. There was so much she could not put into words. Contrition, regret. A disorienting depth of feeling. It was impossible.

"So," he teased. "How long have you been smitten with me? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Hours," she mumbled. "Years. I don’t know. This week has been a lifetime."

"It probably started the moment you laid eyes on me. I am devilishly handsome, after all."

It was when I smelled that damnable soap, she thought, but she couldn’t tell him that.

"I think…I think it started in the graveyard," she decided.

"Morbid, but I’ll take it."

"And you? You are smitten with me, right?" She withdrew to check his face. 

"My dear, you are the most enticing thorn I’ve ever plucked out of my side."

"Such honeyed words," she said sarcastically.

He lovingly stroked her hair. "I hated you at first," he admitted. "But not because I found you unappealing. In truth, your good looks and sharp wit offended all my sensibilities. Assassins ought to be ugly, unlikable, and male."

"Speaking of ugly, we need to have a chat about my client."

"Save it for the morning. Tonight, I want you all to myself. No distractions."

She played with one of his buttons. "What will you do with me, you think?"

"Give you what I promised. I told you I was going to impress you three times, and by God, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Contract or no."

"Impress me how?"

The firelight glinted in his eyes. "Will you follow me?"

Tex nodded once. He picked up the lamp and offered her his hand; she took it. She became his shadow, mutely trailing after him as he brought her to the hall. The Sheriff led her past the washroom, toward the yawning darkness of the bedroom door. What lay beyond that threshold, the outlaw couldn’t say, but the prospects set her mind spinning. A delicious foreboding tingled in her limbs. Would the ghosts of their first meeting be waiting in the room?

 

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Time for a DEEP CUT into the lore: in the episode Nightmare in Retroville, Candy Bar proprietor Sam Melvick responds to the presence of real monsters by saying "Quick! Go get some angry villagers, some torches, garlic, some silver junk, and a beautiful red-haired woman named Tessie". Later, when Miss Fowl returns with a torch-bearing mob, she tells him "Sorry, Sam, I couldn’t find you a red-haired woman named Tessie" to which he replies, "Ain’t that the story of my life." Anyway, in this AU, he found her. lol

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT

- Deism is a form of rationalistic theology that I would characterize as 'Atheism Lite'. Deists believe in an impersonal, non-anthropomorphic, and incomprehensible Creator who brought the universe into being, but does not intervene in its affairs. Deists argue that the world we see around us emerged as the result of mathematical and scientific laws, which can be observed, studied, and understood. It is through understanding nature that we humans can get a glimpse of the divine; as such, Deists reject organized religion and religious authority. Deism has its roots in the Enlightenment, when many of the great Western thinkers began to notice major discrepancies between Biblical accounts and all of the discoveries that were being made as a result of the Scientific Revolution. As a philosophical movement, Deism reached its apex during the late 1700s (many of the Founding Fathers were Deists, including Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Madison, and Monroe), but declined in popularity after the early 1800s. The 1859 publication of Charles Darwin's seminal work, On the Origin of Species, spawned a fundamentalist backlash that further pushed it to the fringes. In small-town Texas, refuting the divinity of Jesus can still land you in hot water today - imagine how much more contentious the issue would have been in 1875. The Sheriff is wise to hide his true beliefs (also, a Deist reading Joseph Butler's writings is the historical equivalent of an atheist hate-watching Christian apologetics videos on youtube).
- Benjamin Franklin is by far the most interesting of the Founding Fathers. He was good at everything: he was a writer, scientist, inventor, statesman, diplomat, printer, publisher, political philosopher, Freemason, and insatiable pussy-hound. His study of electricity made him an influential figure in the field of physics, and he charted and named the Gulf Stream. He invented the lightning rod, bifocals, catheters, glass harmonicas, and the Franklin Stove. He came up with the concept of the Pros and Cons list, and he was on the French committee that first observed the Placebo effect in action (although they did not use that term). As a young man, he bought slaves, decided the practice was abhorrent, freed them, and then co-founded the first American abolition society. In his 1771 autobiography, he self-identified as a Deist, having rejected the Puritanical faith of his parents. Known for his religious tolerance, he was a proponent of any religion that focused on doing good works. John Adams is often overlooked in textbooks, but he's a big deal to lawyers. Adams fought for two legal principles that became the bedrock of our justice system - the right to counsel and the presumption of innocence. He hated slavery and had a bizarre, decades-long love/hate rivalry with Jefferson.
- On the subject of birthday parties: the custom we’re familiar with today (a party with cake, presents, and loved ones) first became widespread in America during the 1860s and 70s. The rise in birthday celebrations was part of a larger shift in how people conceptualized the passing of time. Thanks to Industrialization, clocks and pocket watches became ubiquitous, and as more people followed the schedules of factories and trains, they had more reason to watch those clocks. This newfound focus on age was visible in many 19th-century institutions: schools started using age to separate students into grades, for instance, and doctors started using it to assess people’s health and development.
- On the subject of candy: Hub Wafers (now called Necco Wafers) are the oldest American candy brand. They hit the market after English immigrant Oliver Chase invented a machine for chopping lozenges in 1847. Produced in Boston, they were carried by Union Army soldiers during the Civil War. Maple candy was invented by the indigenous peoples of the continent, and abolitionists really did hand it out to protest the sugar cane industry, which relied on slave labor. The rhyme I included in this chapter was penned by the famed Quaker preacher, Lucretia Mott. An unbelievable dynamo, she was one of the most influential human rights advocates of the last two centuries.
- 'Bundling' is the traditional practice of wrapping a courting couple together in bed, usually with a board between them. The custom is thought to have originated either in the Netherlands or in the British Isles, and in the 1700s, it became common in the colonial US (especially in Pennsylvania Dutch country). The courtship ritual usually occurred in the parental home of the female participant, and despite the interference of 'Bundling clothes' and/or 'Bundling boards', it still occasionally resulted in a 'little bundle of joy' nine months later. While less than 10% of New England brides were pregnant at the time of their wedding in the 1600s, the number climbed to over a third in the 1700s. The Puritans and other religious conservatives criticized the custom due to the potential for licentiousness, but Bundling actually provided a form of social accountability for young men who got their sweethearts pregnant. Because the girl's family was well acquainted with their daughter's suitor, he could not evade responsibility by claiming that he had not been in close contact with the young woman in question. Bundling fell out of favor in the 1800s, although some rural communities (and eccentric rich people, evidently) continued to practice it.
- Vassar College was a trailblazing institute founded in 1861, offering women an education equal to that of the best men’s colleges of the day. The first person appointed to the Vassar faculty was astronomer Maria Mitchell (pictured here, upper left). Mitchell was the country's first professional female astronomer; her 1847 discovery of Comet C/1847 T1 made her internationally famous. Her unconventional teaching methods were a major selling point – during her tenure at Vassar College (which lasted until 1888), the school enrolled more students in mathematics and astronomy than Harvard University. She was known to write whimsical poems for her pupils, which is just incredibly sweet. Mitchell was the first woman elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and the American Association for the Advancement of Science. She edited the astronomy column for Scientific American, and she co-founded the Association for the Advancement of Women. She received honorary doctorates from Hanover College, Columbia University, and Rutgers Female College. Like most female academics of the era, she was forced to choose between a career and marriage, and she remained single until her death. (Anyway, I'm not saying that Maria Mitchell is the academic sexpert from the Sheriff's past, but I'm not NOT saying it, either. I just love the idea of a college-aged Jimmy having a fling with a frumpy 50-year-old astronomer because he was attracted to her mind.)

Vocab:
* The Horns of Jericho - the Book of Joshua describes a military engagement fought by the Israelites during their conquest of Canaan. God directs Joshua to attack the city of Jericho – not with soldiers, but with seven priests blowing horns, carrying the Ark of the Covenant in front of them. On day seven of marching around the city, the shofar (horn) sounded a great blow, and the Israelites shouted. The ruckus shattered the stone walls into pieces. God then commanded the Israelites to kill every man, woman, child, and baby, as well as the oxen, sheep, and donkeys. The only person spared was Rahab, a local prostitute who had hidden Israelite spies, along with her close relatives. Old Testament God was a big fan of mass slaughter.
* Victuals - food. Colloquially known as "vittles".
* Shut the front door! - No way!

[Katia11]

I have never, ever run anywhere so fast. Imagine me like the freaking Road Runner. ((this is freakin' long. so take a seat))

"His entrance was a raucous one. He stomped up the front steps, let the door slam behind him, and then clunked his way through the parlor like he had bricks strapped to his feet. The man makes more noise than the horns of Jericho, she thought." This is so descriptive!!!  I loved it. 

"She would need to have a word with him about the advantages of stealth." Yeahhhh.. boy is not exactly subtle. 

"He appeared in the pantry doorway, visibly bewildered, clutching a coat under one arm.  "What on earth...?" His mouth hung open as he surveyed the scene. "Okay," he gawked, turning toward her, "who are you, and what have you done with the vagabond who sleeps on my roof?" His utter bafflement here is so entertaining. 

"So, what's all this, then?" She gestured at the stove. "I made you dinner.""Yes. I can see that." "So sit down. I'll serve it to you." "I'm sorry...what?" He blinked at her in disbelief. "Do you require a map?" she asked. "Your ass," she pointed. "That chair." He kept right on gawking. "Is that an apron? Sweet Jesus, I think I'm having a stroke." "Stop being so melodramatic. Have a seat, before it gets cold.""If you say so." He eyed her warily as he walked around the table and assumed his station. "But for the record, this is extremely weird. I hope you realize that." "How is it weird?" Tex set a full plate down in front of him, followed by a clutch of utensils. "You've been preparing meals for me all week. I'm just returning the favor." "Vortex, I live here. You're my guest. I'm supposed to cook for you." I realize this is a long quote, but this BANTER sizzlessss and pops. And I am eating it up like fresh popcorn.  

"Tex leaned forward, alert with anticipation, as he raised the morsel to his mouth. He froze halfway. "Good God, woman, your eyes are glowing like a jackal's. Why are you looking at me like that?" "I want to see if you like it." The image of Tex watching with rapt attention is both sweet and, honestly, a little terrifying. I totally get his unease here. 

"He regarded her skeptically, then took a bite, and his expression immediately changed. He lowered his hand, and the utensil clinked against the plate. "Wait a minute," he said. "This is actually good. You didn't tell me you could cook." She primped and preened at the compliment. "Of course I can cook. I can do anything." SHE CAN. She is so badass. 

"He was quiet for a moment. "You put a lot of work into this, didn't you? You hunted, and foraged...why did you do all of this for me?" "You were kind to me last night," she said, fidgeting a little. "I wanted to do something nice to show my appreciation." "That's...very thoughtful of you. I mean it. Thank you." He smiled at her, and she looked down at her plate. She picked up her fork and stabbed a carrot." This interaction is so vulnerable in many ways. There's this unspoken softness that is blooming between them, and I adore IT.  

"So how was your day?" she asked. He recounted his largely unproductive scouting mission, and Tex told him about the spiders. "No sign of Sheen to the south or the west," he sighed. "He has been known to disappear for weeks at a time, but it's strange that he missed breakfast with Miss Folfax. When Nick brings Goddard back on Monday, we'll ride east to Marble Orchard and conduct a more thorough investigation." AGAIN. THE SOFTNESS. I am worried about Sheen, don't get me wrong, but this feels so NORMAL and it stands out because of that. 

"He pulled a corkscrew from his pocket. "This bottle has been sitting on my mantle for over a year. I keep meaning to drink it, but the sad fact of the matter is, I rarely get visitors aside from Sheen and Carl." He gave her a look. "And I am not drinking blueberry wine with Sheen and Carl." That seems strangely.. pointed? 

"You've got a new shirt," he observed. "Did Miss Folfax give that to you?" "Uh-huh." He sipped his wine. "It looks good on you."It would look better off of me, she thought." Girl IS SOOO HORNY. 

"Tex got the sense that she was on display, and it made her nervous. An air of inevitability permeated the room. How would a respectable woman handle this situation? she wondered. She was ready to throw caution to the wind, but this was his house, and his life; she knew better than to overstep her bounds. Let him make the first move, if that was what he wanted." My dear, dear Tex. GET YOUR MAN.  More seriously, I love the way you capture the atmosphere here. I can FEELL the tension. 

AWW. the way he asks about her neck. He's so considerate! 

"Here, this is for you." He handed it to her. She turned it over and examined the spine. "Patent law?" she read. "It's not the most exciting legal subject, but it's one of the few law-books that I own. I thought you might enjoy it." Tex opened the cover and paged through the first chapter. "This is really comprehensive," she said." AND NOW HE IS GIVING HER LAW BOOKS TO READ???! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME? that is so friggin' thoughtful and considerate.

"She reclined against a throw pillow and propped her legs up next to him. Tome in hand, the outlaw could almost pretend that she was still the same ambitious, studious girl she'd been all those years ago. She stole frequent glances at him - he looked so scholarly, so dependable. Nostalgia tucked itself around her like a blanket." Okay, I have a lot to say about this tiny section. This feels so cozy and lovely. There is such a delicious sense of comfort and safety. It is so trivial, and yet it stands out in such a beautiful way. Also, the way she "pretends" that she was the ambitious, studious girl she was- it just.... HIT.  And finally, scholarly and dependable is freaking attractive. I love that she takes NOTE of those specific qualities. It says quite a lot about her character.

"I want all of this, she thought." A THROAT PUNCH IN SEVEN WORDS. 

"Objectionable passage?" she inquired. "This author is a moron," he commented, angrily crunching on a candy. She raised an eyebrow. "Are you in the habit of reading books you hate?" "On occasion. For the bloodsport." OF course he hate reads. More seriously, I adore the thought of them talking about books. 

"Joseph Butler. An Anglican bishop, theologian, and world-class know-it-all. He's dead, mercifully." I want to start saying this now. 

"He hesitated. "Can you keep a secret? It's a big one." "You've kept my secrets. I would never betray any of yours." the trust communicated here - JUST. MMM.

"I'm not a Christian," he admitted. "I'm a Deist. I don't believe in miracles, or divine intervention, or holy texts. I believe in a universe governed by natural laws. My moral framework stems from reason, not revelation." He tapped the hardcover. "Joseph Butler here was a prominent detractor of Deist philosophy." Ah! That makes a lot of sense for him. 

"If word got out that I was an apostate and a Darwinist, people would not invite me to their birthday parties. "I'd invite you to mine. I care nothing for doctrinal sanctimony. I'm going to hell anyway." Okay, the way she says she'd invite him to her party -- this is FINE. 

"There's no such thing as hell," he asserted adamantly. "Unless you count the misery we inflict upon ourselves." OOOOOO THIS LINE GOES SO HARD. 

"June 6th. When's yours?" "March 14th. Libby's is December 11th." An unexpected lump formed in her throat. She swallowed repeatedly, but even so, she found it difficult to speak. "You're the only person alive who knows my birthday," she quavered." WELL EFFFFF. I'm CRYING. SCREAMING. THROWING UP ETC. 

"Empathy furrowed his brow. "Tex..." He reached out and smoothed her hair away from her face. Let me stay with you, she willed." Good LORD. I can feel the sheer longing here, the gentle touch on her face... My HEARRTTT

"She crawled across the sofa and settled into the crook of his arm. His body was a furnace in the summer heat, his pulse a ticking clock. She snuggled as close as she dared, then opened up her book, and he did the same. After that, conversation alternated with periods of companionable silence, until the rose-glow of sunset gave way to the murky blues of dusk." This is beautiful, Mara. I love everything about this-the description, the image you are painting with your lovely words.  Just. MMM. 

"A kerosene lamp for light," he narrated as he entered, "and a candelabra for ambience."  CANDELIGHT.. You know what they say, candelight leads to kissing... wait. they don't say that. 

"Tex absently reached for a Hub Wafer as he rearranged things on the side table. Her nail clinked against the glass - the candy bowl was empty." the wafers!!!

"Maple candies. A gift from Sam, a confectioner back East. When I was a kid, he ran a shop called the Candy Bar. His wife Tessie was an abolitionist, and she used to hand out free maple products to people passing by. She wrote little rhymes on the packaging to call attention to the evils of the sugar cane industry." "What kind of rhymes?" He thought for a moment. "It's been so long, I can only remember one. It went: 'Take this, my friend, you need not fear to eat. No slave hath toiled to cultivate this sweet'." That is so COOL. 

"Clever." She removed a leaf and inspected it. "My father was an abolitionist," she shared. "The Framers were his heroes - especially Adams, who detested slavery. My mother, on the other hand, was a Confederate. It caused a lot of tension in our household." Yeah, I CAN BET. 

"She popped the candy into her mouth. "Oh my God," she exclaimed, as it melted like butter on her tongue. "This is amazing!" I want one now. i protest.

"He shifted uncomfortably when she licked the sticky residue from her fingers." I am such a sucker (hehehhehhehhehe) for this kind of moment. gets me every single time. 

"Afterward, Tex persuaded him to climb up onto the roof with her. They lay shoulder-to-shoulder on the corrugated shingles, gazing up at the incandescent sky. A barred owl in a copse of trees hooted dolefully; in the distance, its mate called back to it. Elsewhere, a host of nocturnal choristers hinted at a complex world indifferent to their presence. They were the only humans for miles." Mara- I am speechless. Utterly speechless. This is so gorgeous and rich and LOVELY. also, bird   

 "And there?" He moved his hand. "Ursa Minor?" "That one's called the Hangman's Noose." "Don't you have any pleasant constellations in your sky?" he asked, rolling onto his side. She turned to face him. They were huddled so closely together that the conversation felt like a secret. There's one, she thought, but he's new. " AND THEN YOU GO AND HIT ME WITH THAT. I AM FINE. I AM LYING ON THE FLOOR MOANING FOR NO REASON. I absolutely love rooftop scenes at night, and you ARE KNOCKING IT OUT OF THE PARK. 

"So picture this: I've never met this young lady, right? But the next thing I know, her parents are escorting both of us into her bedroom. They made us lie down together on the bed, and then they put a board between us." "A board?" "Yes. A wooden board. They didn't explain any of this, mind you; they just blew out the candles and left the room." "Shut the front door!" she exclaimed. "So I'm lying next to this random woman, in complete darkness, trying to think of something intelligent to say. A couple of minutes pass, and I start to hear snoring coming from the other side of the partition." "She fell asleep?" "She fell asleep! I couldn't believe it. I had bored her into slumber with my silence." That sounds DEEEPPLY uncomfortable. 

"There was one," he admitted. "An older woman - an instructor, at Vassar college. I met her while I was visiting New York. I expressed interest in her work as an astronomer, so she took me under her wing for a semester. I acted as her unofficial research assistant, and she taught me some...things." She raised an eyebrow. "Things?" "Yeah. Things." "Are you telling me," she said, trying to keep a straight face, "that you took sex lessons from a professor?" "Well. I wouldn't put it like that." oh. boy. The sheriff got it on with a professor. Sounds like Tex isn't the only one with a thing for nerdy types- and ya know what, that fits.  

"I can only imagine what those 'classroom materials' were like," she snickered." I am imagining tomes and tomes of sex books. 

"There was nothing to tell. To protect herself, Tex had chosen isolation. Her romantic experience consisted of a handful of soulless, unfeeling trysts, and that was it. Women were always judged harshly for such things, so she never spoke about it." Oh, Tex.  

"She turned her head and looked over at him. The moon was so bright that she could make out every detail of his clothing and his face, every little eccentric imperfection that gave him character. He was magnetic." I adore how she notices all those little details, the things that make him - him and how that lends to his magnetic pull. 

"We could do more than just talk," she said." OHOHOOHOH.

"He blotted out the stars, and she gazed up at him invitingly, artfully draping one forearm above her head."  HE BLOTTED OUT THE STARS? I know I'm reading far too much into this, but the fact that one man blocks out the literal stars... i am feeling things about it. 

"You are temptation incarnate," he said quietly. He ran his hand down the length of her bandolier, fingers gliding softly, as though each bullet were a note along a golden scale. Her breathing quickened. She could see the ardor in his eyes, rapt and fever-bright, as he focused his attention on her mouth. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, and for a second, Tex was rendered speechless. This level of attraction was wholly foreign to her. I want him more than anything, she thought. More than power. More than prestige. More than victory. It threatened to upend her."  Okay. I hardly even know where to begin with this one. The desire, the crackling chemistry, the way every sensation is so vivid and potent. The final realization that she wants him more than anything, even VICTORY, how that threatens to unseat her... i'm out here... my heart in my throat. 

"Kiss me now," she beckoned. There was a hint of desperation to it." GIRL GET IT. But the desperation, though. MMM.

"He winced, then abruptly looked away. "Damn it," he whispered."  OOOO SHE IS SO VULNERABLE AND HE PULLS AWAY. OUCHIESSS. 

"He shook his head as he retreated toward the ledge. "I'm sorry," he said, stooping to pick up his hat. "I let things go too far. I can't do this with a crosshair on my heart." OOOFF. 

"In his absence, the sky became a canvas painted black with her sins. A memory - she was standing in a hunter's cabin, dead-eyed and implacable, with a cruel blade in her hand. A face, reflected in the metal - a man with bad teeth and hauntingly beautiful eyes. He huddled in the corner, whimpering like a child, as she moved toward him with the knife. Each footfall was like thunder; she was a god. He'd begged for his life, pleaded with her, but Tex always carried out her mission to the letter. She'd felt nothing when she slashed the steel across his throat. She felt it now." This is so HAUNTING and heartbreaking and it packs A PUNCH. 

"Try as she might, she could not escape the restless dead, could not outrun their clutching, bony fingers. Ahead of her, a gray and empty highway stretched into tomorrow, and tomorrow, and onward toward infinity. Another contract. Another frontier town. A loneliness she'd once construed as power. Blood, and gunpowder, and ruin."  MARA. MARA> MARA> MARA»»> MARA»»»»»»» I AM SCREAMING ALL THE WAY TO YOUR HOUSE. I AM SHIPPING MYSELF TO YOUR HOUSE SO I CAN SCREAM AT YOU.  THIS IS GENIUS. GORGEOUS IN THE MOST PAINFUL WAY. 

"She had set foot inside a pastel dream, and now she would never be able to forget it. I want to be human again, she thought. I want holidays, and law-books, and dinner at the table. I want friends who know my birthday. I want a place to sleep at night where I don't have to be afraid. Tex understood her limitations - without him, and without Libby, she would deny herself those things. She had walked this slow road to Perdition for so long that now she could not leave it on her own. She needed someone waiting with their hand outstretched, someone who would not put up with her excuses. Loyalty, not principle, would guide her toward redemption, if redemption was still achievable at all." ... can i say more? are there any words to help me convey the sheer genius of you? No. No there aren't. Good. EFF. 

"Tex left the entryway. "There is no crosshair," she reiterated. "Not from me. Not for all the money in the world." This hit me right in the heart.

"He stared blankly at her as she closed the gap between them. "The contract's gone," she said. "It's sitting at the bottom of the river. But if I had it with me now, I'd rip it up and throw it in the fire. You have nothing more to fear from me." he has NOTHING more to fear. 

"I'm here to offer myself up to you," she said, holding out her wrists. "If your code of justice demands retribution under law, then I'll submit to it. Arrest me - I'll let you take me in. I'll confess to all my crimes, and face the hangman's rope, like any killer should." The nascent fire popped and sparked beside them. A look of horror crept onto his face, but he kept his mouth shut while she spoke her piece. "But," she continued, "if you grant me clemency, I swear to you, I'll find a new profession. No more murders. No more running. Defensive violence only. I'll work hard to become the sort of person who's worthy of your good opinion. Just...please. Let me stay in Retro Valley." The lump returned to her throat. "Let me stay with you." I know this is getting really long, but this entire speech is ..  is raw and vulnerable. The way I can FEEEL her desperation, her longing not just for him, but for that which he offers (the safety as mentioned above, dependability, the comfort). IT just is very very good. 

"The Sheriff blinked at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and this repeated several times. Finally, he managed to cobble together a few words." stop gaping like a fish, boy. 

"You want...to stay?" "If you'll have me." She laid one hand on his chest. "You're serious about this," he said in wonder. "About me." "I know it's selfish of me. I know I don't deserve you. I can't fix everything that's wrong with me, but I'll devote myself to you in whatever way I can." "Tex." He placed his hand on hers. "You can't seriously believe I would send you to the gallows. Come here." He pulled her into his arms. He'd held her last night too, but the sensation was distinctly different now - gone was the suspicion, the ambivalence, and fear. Tex leaned into his embrace, leaned into the fealty she felt for him. She'd been a vile mercenary, but in his hands, she'd make a very faithful knight." THIS IS SO MUCH. AND THEN THAT LAST LINE???! IN HIS HANDS SHE'D MAKE A VERY FAITHFUL KNIGHT???!?!?!?

"Tex attempted a smile. "I promise I'll be a good cat," she joked. "You'll love having me around the house. I'll bring you dead animals to eat, and I'll only destroy some of your possessions." He regarded her fondly. "Possessions are replaceable. Cats are not." AWWW.

"A disorienting depth of feeling. It was impossible." Deep feelings do tend to disorient.  

"So," he teased. "How long have you been smitten with me? Inquiring minds want to know." "Hours," she mumbled. "Years. I don't know. This week has been a lifetime." HOURS? YEARS????!!  my hearrrtttt. Also, this smacks so much of one of my favorite moments from Pride and Prejudice. And I AM NOT saying it's the same at all, but I loved it.

"And you? You are smitten with me, right?" She withdrew to check his face.  "My dear, you are the most enticing thorn I've ever plucked out of my side." "Such honeyed words," she said sarcastically. He lovingly stroked her hair. "I hated you at first," he admitted. "But not because I found you unappealing. In truth, your good looks and sharp wit offended all my sensibilities. Assassins ought to be ugly, unlikable, and male." IN other words, he hated her because he thought she was pretty and smart. Very in character.

"Save it for the morning. Tonight, I want you all to myself. No distractions." She played with one of his buttons. "What will you do with me, you think?" "Give you what I promised. I told you I was going to impress you three times, and by God, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Contract or no." "Impress me how?" The firelight glinted in his eyes. "Will you follow me?" Tex nodded once. He picked up the lamp and offered her his hand; she took it. She became his shadow, mutely trailing after him as he brought her to the hall. The Sheriff led her past the washroom, toward the yawning darkness of the bedroom door. What lay beyond that threshold, the outlaw couldn't say, but the prospects set her mind spinning. A delicious foreboding tingled in her limbs. Would the ghosts of their first meeting be waiting in the room?" AND THIS ENDING. THE ANTICIPIATION. THE TEASING. THE CHEMISTRY. 

JUST BANNNGGGGGGGG. FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY.... PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY. 

I want to close this by saying, real quick (because this is almost 4,000 words) that I love how much realism you bring to this fic. That does not do nearly enough credit to the time and effort you put it, but I am trying to not ramble on any longer. 

Thank you. 

[Mara=^.^=]

I have never, ever run anywhere so fast. Imagine me like the freaking Road Runner.

 

Meep meep! 

 

The image of Tex watching with rapt attention is both sweet and, honestly, a little terrifying. I totally get his unease here.

 

Oh, yeah. He's totally weirded out by the whole thing, until he realizes she's acting out of kindness. (As a side note, food as a proxy for care is especially impactful in a setting like this).

 

That seems strangely.. pointed?

 

He's like "I need you to know that this is a romantic interaction."

 

Girl IS SOOO HORNY.

 

Homegirl is thirstier than the Sahara desert this entire chapter. 

 

I'm CRYING. SCREAMING. THROWING UP ETC.

 

*slides you a bucket*

 

You know what they say, candelight leads to kissing… wait. they don't say that.

 

They do now.

 

oh. boy. The sheriff got it on with a professor. Sounds like Tex isn't the only one with a thing for nerdy types- and ya know what, that fits. 

 

There's that scene in Love Potion 976/J where Jimmy is making Valentines with Marie Curie's gray-haired visage on them. I was like, this has to be a thing.

 

MARA. MARA> MARA> MARA»»> MARA»»»»»»» I AM SCREAMING ALL THE WAY TO YOUR HOUSE. I AM SHIPPING MYSELF TO YOUR HOUSE SO I CAN SCREAM AT YOU.  THIS IS GENIUS. GORGEOUS IN THE MOST PAINFUL WAY.

 

This is the only section I was able to salvage from the original draft I wrote back in August. It's always been the crux of the chapter - I just had to figure out how to arrange the other elements around it.

 

this entire speech is ..  is raw and vulnerable. The way I can FEEEL her desperation, her longing not just for him, but for that which he offers (the safety as mentioned above, dependability, the comfort). IT just is very very good.

 

One thing I've tried to make very clear in this fic is that Tex isn't just falling in love with him, she's rediscovering herself, in a sense. Learning to be vulnerable, earnest, and trusting again. Remembering things that brought her joy and comfort, before she killed those parts of herself in order to survive. It takes a lot of courage to be this honest, so I was very proud of her here.

 

stop gaping like a fish, boy.

 

He cannot.

 

IN HIS HANDS SHE'D MAKE A VERY FAITHFUL KNIGHT???!?!?!?

 

She is GEARING UP, and she is READY TO FIGHT. 

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

Meep meep! 

 

 what can i say? i'm desperate.

 

 

Oh, yeah. He's totally weirded out by the whole thing, until he realizes she's acting out of kindness. (As a side note, food as a proxy for care is especially impactful in a setting like this).

 

 

yeahhhhh, agreed! (on the food thing) it is wonderful. 

 

 

He's like "I need you to know that this is a romantic interaction."

 

 
AHHH. Gotchya. Ya know, the blueberry wine made me think of a local wine that I really like and it made me want a bottle. 

 

 

Homegirl is thirstier than the Sahara desert this entire chapter. 

 

*flashback to other things that are apparently like the Sahara desert*

 

 

This is the only section I was able to salvage from the original draft I wrote back in August. It's always been the crux of the chapter - I just had to figure out how to arrange the other elements around it.

 

 

Well, it was wonderful and I am so glad you put it in here. Despite having to nix so much else. It was brilliantly written and executed. 

 

 

One thing I've tried to make very clear in this fic is that Tex isn't just falling in love with him, she's rediscovering herself, in a sense. Learning to be vulnerable, earnest, and trusting again. Remembering things that brought her joy and comfort, before she killed those parts of herself in order to survive. It takes a lot of courage to be this honest, so I was very proud of her here.

 

YES!!!! That very much comes across, I've just had trouble putting my finger on how best to describe it! News flash: I often can't express myself. Some writer I am. lol 

 

I wanted him to stop gaping like a fish so he could kiss her. If that was not made clear. 

 

YESSS. KNOCK 'EM DEAD, TEX. 

 

Also, in case it was not clear, I'm not actually in misery. Well, it is the best kind of misery. SOOO much anticipation.  

[Mara=^.^=]

AHHH. Gotchya. Ya know, the blueberry wine made me think of a local wine that I really like and it made me want a bottle.

 

In my mid-20s, the guy I was kinda-sorta-seeing (we were friends, but we were also staying up till 5am reading to each other and talking about our deepest thoughts) served me blueberry wine while we were playing board games. I've associated it with romance ever since. 

 

Well, it was wonderful and I am so glad you put it in here. Despite having to nix so much else. It was brilliantly written and executed.

 

The original draft focused much more on what Tex didn't want, and the final version focuses much more on what Tex does want. I think the affirmative version is much stronger, so I'm glad I stuck with it, even though it was a miserable experience.

 

*flashback to other things that are apparently like the Sahara desert*

 

Euuugh.

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

In my mid-20s, the guy I was kinda-sorta-seeing (we were friends, but we were also staying up till 5am reading to each other and talking about our deepest thoughts) served me blueberry wine while we were playing board games. I've associated it with romance ever since.

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

Fair!

I also really liked the focus on what Tex wants. It was very strong and it made me see how much she longs not just for physical connection, but also shows the promise of what staying could mean.

[Katia11]

*shouts* 
 

I love this fic!

 

*runs away*

[Katia11]

"Would the ghosts of their first meeting be waiting in the room?" HOW DID I MISS THIS BANGER THE FIRST TIME AROUND?! 

[Mara=^.^=]

"Would the ghosts of their first meeting be waiting in the room?" HOW DID I MISS THIS BANGER THE FIRST TIME AROUND?! 

 

Another remnant from the chapter that was axed.

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

I’m so glad it survived

[Mara=^.^=]

Will I color this? Who knows!


 
 
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

It is stunning either way! Good lord, Mara. You need to stop being so amazing or I'm going to start writing you protest letters.