#this isn't really relevant to slow dance but for what it's worth

[ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie]

@rainbowrowell I was looking for your email so I could nicely send you an email about the impact that Slow Dance has had on me, and then you didn't have one posted anywhere, and then I was just not gonna say anything at all, but then I decided what's more Slow Dance/80s-power-balad-y than openly screaming my feelings to you on my tumblr blog and hoping you hear them, in that standing-outside-your-house-with-my-boom-box kind of way. So, here it is:

Dearest Rainbow,

While most people read books and connect to a character, I have always had a hard time 100% superimposing myself onto characters. Even characters that I SHOULD relate to, that are mostly similar to me, I just. I've liked them, but they've never spoken to me in my soul. That said, something about your books have always touched me. Eleanor, Cath, Simon, these characters have always spoken directly to me a little more than average. This is all to say though, that never in my entire life have I felt so deeply seen by any book ever, until Slow Dance. From the very first "your mom" joke, I was smitten. I was listening to the book, and after laughing, my immediate reaction was that my husband needed to listen to that book too. And as soon as I finished, I listened to it again with him.

Somehow, I knew it would gut me. And it did. I felt so understood by Shiloh in ways I never knew were important to me. Her sexuality is something I relate to so strongly, and never before have I been so perfectly represented like that. Her sense of humor, her nervousness, her self-sabotage.

As a lover of Emily Henry, while her books make me grateful for the love I have, one that always somehow always fits into the kind of love she's describing, her books also always make me yearn. For the location, or the larger than life friends, or something that just. I always end up yearning.

Slow Dance took root in my chest when I read it within the first few days it came out, and sits there to this day. This feeling of. Of a character who grew up wanting more, and came back home, and still wants more, but also feels kind of defeated, and also learns to be happy. This deep friendship that's always realistically been love. This idea of being known so intimately but also not being known at all in other ways. Of only really romantically loving one person, and being nervous because they've been with other people and you really haven't. Of the different shapes of family. Of overthinking because it feels like you have to, of needing to be ready for an ending just in case, even though you so badly don't want something to end, of trying to convince yourself that less is perfectly okay and maybe it's supposed to be that way. Every part of Shiloh spoke to me, every part of Cary reminded me of my husband, every part of this book, as a childless plus-sized 5'3 27yo that has never set foot in Nebraska, made me feel so so deeply seen. And though I don't completely understand how or why, I know it is a book that will sit with me for years to come. So I thank you sincerely for gifting us with it, and for giving shape to so many thoughts in my head I've never been able to really say. Hearing them out loud was shattering.

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter three

series masterlist

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SAUDADE

“How can you have two dads? That’s just weird.”

I absentmindedly tore the crusts from my sandwich, discarding them onto the sodden autumn grass in hopes that some birds would grace us with their presence. It was early into the new school year, and at seven years old, Annie and I had known each other for almost a year, and our nook in the garden remained our daily haunt. Annie, still as aloof and scary to most, but to me, a sweetheart with a soft spot seemingly only for animals, doughnuts, and myself, had told me a story about a girl in her class who had to be taken home by ‘one of her dads’. I, naive to the concept of homosexuality, had questioned how one could have more than one paternal figure, to which my older friend introduced me to the possibility that some people could like the same sex.

“Not really,” Annie shrugged. “Love is already really weird. Why would you not be able to fall in love with another man if you’re a man?”

“But how do they have babies?”

“They don’t.”

“But the girl in your class—“

“She’s adopted.”

I contemplated this idea.

“So if a man and a man can be in love, does that mean a woman and a woman can too?”

“I guess so,” Annie responded nonchalantly. “I’ve never seen two girls in love, though.”

Brazenly, I hugged Annie. “So does that mean we can be two girls in love? Oooh, Annabelle, I love you!” I chirped. I did not quite grasp the weight of what I had said, and presumably, neither did Annie, who smirked and fought off my grabbing hands. We were play fighting, nothing out of the ordinary for two young friends, regardless of gender or sexuality.

“So let me get this straight,” Marco states, snapping my attention back through a decade, sat on the edge of his old twin bed. “The first thing you did when you learned what gay meant was declared that you loved your female friend? I don’t want to jump to conclusions for you, but I think you might be gay.”

I groaned, slamming my face into my hands frustratedly. “I know. I think I’ve known for ages now. I’ve never had a crush on a man in my life, Marco, but I’ve never had a crush on a girl, either. Well, apart from—“

“Apart from Annie?” Marco finishes for me suggestively.

I fall back onto his plaid comforter. “Was it even a real crush? We were children. It’s not like I have any other experience to go off, do I?” Because it’s true. How the fuck are you supposed to know what you are if you’ve only had a puppy crush on a girl from your youth? A girl who you lost when you were eleven years old?

“Are you okay?”

Marco reaches over to my cheek, brushing away a tear that I had not even noticed escape my eye. He lies next to me on his comforter, and we stare at the puckered ceiling, shoulder to shoulder, zero eye contact but the affection we hold for each other sitting comfortably in the familiar atmosphere of his bedroom.

“I miss somebody who I haven’t spoken to in seven years,” I admit ruefully. I know I am crying. Under any normal circumstance, I would be furiously rubbing my under eyes, desperate to remove any evidence of my upset. But it’s Marco. He may not be what my Annabelle and I had, but he is still one of my closest friends. I realise that it may not be the end of the world for somebody whom I love and trust to know the truth. “I miss her every day. I can’t even begin to explain it, because it’s ridiculous. You would have thought that after so many years, so many more wonderful friends, that I would just recall our time together with a sort of nostalgic fondness every now and then, but I can’t. There was something about what Annie and I had. It was a feeling, a sensation that made me feel safe. I love you and the rest of our group, believe me. I would do anything for you guys. But the friendship we have is so different from what I felt. I can still remember every emotion, every touch, exactly how she looked.”

“Oh, Daisy,” Marco starts, his sweet voice laced with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were carrying all of this with you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t still be hung up over a childhood friend. Plus, I was nervous to suddenly come out, you know? Stupid, I know, considering you're so comfortable with yourself.”

“Sounds like more than a friend, if you ask me.” He insinuates. Despite his sunny disposition, Marco can be rather snarky when he wants to be.

“Yeah, yeah, crush, friend, whatever. Part of me wants to forget about her, you know? Just start experimenting and figure me out, but I would never want to lose the memories. The time I had with her is worth every moment I have missed her.”

“As sweet and poetic as that is, there’s no reason as to why you can’t start experimenting now. You’re newly eighteen and you will have left this place come September if it goes horribly wrong.”

I laugh dryly. “Thanks. But yeah, I could do that. How does one even go about that, though? I mean, an average looking, sexually ambiguous nerd with no romantic experience isn’t exactly very high in demand on the market.”

Marco sucks his teeth, shaking his head. “Average looking is not a phrase with which I will allow you to describe yourself. Besides, nobody even cares about experience anymore! Believe me, once you go to uni, virginity, body count and all that jazz isn't even relevant." He reassures me, before he turns to his side, warm eyes lighting up with excitement. "I tell you what, let’s go on a night out. We can invite the rest of the gang or it can be just you and me. Sounds good?”

My heart swells with adoration for my friend. He’s really willing to do this for me? “You don’t even like going out, I’m not letting you be uncomfortable for my sake,” I protest, but Marco holds a freckled digit up, presumably to silence me.

“I don’t mind going out. I don’t particularly like staying out ’til 4am, drunk out of my mind, but I can’t imagine you doing that either. Unless you get lucky?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I jerk my body up, shoving him. “Let’s not get carried away here. Drinks? Sure. But it’s very unlikely I’ll be swept off my feet by a gorgeous stranger and spend the night having bomb ass sex.”

“Not quite what I was thinking, but don’t rule it out! You’re a lovely looking lady, I’m sure you’d have your pick of gorgeous strangers.”

“Ha ha, you’re such a comedian, Marco.” I smirk. “Okay, we’ll go on a big, gay night out. Just the two of us. You better not flake on me for a handsome university student though,” I tease, and he averts his dark gaze. “If we find a cute alt boy with piercings, I can’t make any promises. How does this Friday sound? Get your dancing shoes on, we’ll boogie the night away!” He sits up, jiggling his shoulders in what I can only assume is a butchered version of the shuffle.

My friend is such a nerd sometimes.

“I’m looking forward to it, but fair warning, I will go home if you say boogie at all during the night.”

“How about bop?”

“No way.”

“Jive?”

“That’s infinitely worse than boogie!” I howl with laughter.

“How about a boogie, bop, and jive?” Marco relentlessly teases me, jumping to his socked feet and pulling me up by my wrists, crudely dancing with me whilst we both giggle.

“No, no, and certainly not. But I’m looking forward to going out with you.” I conclude.

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i am so sorry for the slow updates!! i won't get too into it but i had a bit of bad news and life got very stressful,,, i hope you enjoy this chapter, and please be assured there are more on the way!! thank you for your patience gang <3