#twenty sundays my absolute love and joy and my reason to live i will miss you so much

[hanrinz]

also mourning for twenty sundays rin fic @naosaki

[foggedgrief]

okay, hello, this is going to be a part one to a series of introductions ! i have already hit my five character cap because i’m a menace but that means you get more content and honestly that feels like a fair trade off. without my rambling, i give you nicky ( click here to find some quick facts about my boy ) and emi ( click here to find some quick facts about my girl ) ! wanted connections can be found here.

be warned ! before you click that handy dandy little read more, the following triggers will be discussed : death ( multiple deaths due to the fog, not explicit : both nicky and emi ), grief ( parent losing a child : emi ), religion ( turning away from : emi ) !

losing  friends  and  family  to  the  fog  and  blaming  yourself  for  not  being  more  vigilant,  taking  guardianship  of  your  little  sister  and  getting  a  second  job  to  make  sure  ends  meet,  trying  your  hardest  and  kicking  yourself  for  not  doing  better,  bloodied  knuckles  aggravated  by  vodka  to  clean  them  and  wrapped  so  tightly  you  fear  your  fingers  might  turn  blue,  anger  replaced  by  grief  replaced  by  the  understanding  she  needs  you  and  you  will  tear  down  the  rest  of  the  world  to  keep  her  safe.

nicholas adam locklear was born in inverness, scotland, and still has a scottish accent even though he’s been in the country for twenty years. 

nicky and his family moved to maine a few months before his seventh birthday. they moved to maine because his mother, a once american ex pat, had a father who wanted his kids to be closer because they all seemed to have scattered to the wind. he walked into the fog a week after the locklears had unpacked their home. 

the fog has always been a thing of morbid fascination from nicky and after grandpa took his walk into the woods, nicky was kept particularly far away from the forest line, fog warnings or not. on all saint’s day, the day after he turned eight, nicky found himself in the fog. and then he found himself in his bed with no explanation for either event. 

he started drawing that day, intricate sigils that gave themselves meaning but no voice, so he spoke them into existence: protection from sorcery, protection from evil, wards off negative energies, heal the body and the spirit. four symbols that he couldn’t stop drawing on everything he owned. homework, notebooks, on the walls of his home in crayon ( if you look in those spots today, in the locklear family home, they’re painted now. a whole interior room covered in the sigils intended to look like an artsy photo collage wall. ).

some in town say that the locklears are cursed, that their family bears bad blood, that they owed some kind of karmic debt too large for one life. whatever the rumor, they all boil down to one thing: too many locklears have gone missing in the fog. nicky’s paid little mind to them, though there’s a voice too strange to be his but too familiar to dismiss that encourages him to go in ( to go back ). 

nicky’s life revolves around his little sister, belle, who was born when he was twenty. a few months later, their mother went into the fog and their father went about an hour later to try and look for her. neither came home. though the courts tried to pass belle off to the next living relative, nicky petitioned for rights to guardianship because he lived in the home and could find a way to make ends meet for him to be belle’s caretaker. enter the diner and blue valley.

nicky’s always been a hard worker, never one to take a short cut and never one to take the easy way out. his focus has always been to take care of belle above board, so no one could have a reason to take away the last of his family. that little babe was his world and is nicky’s driving force in most things. he started working at the bar first and took on a job at the diner when he realized that tips got slow after a certain hour and what better way than to make more money by helping to sober up the people you just got drunk ?

when customers offer to buy nicky drinks, he usually puts together a couple of complimentary mixers ( cranberry juice, pineapple juice, and orange juice ) and pours in water from an old tito’s bottle to make it look like he’s adding tequila. he’ll pocket the cost of a drink as an extra tip. he never drinks on the job. 

his jobs aren’t glamorous but they keep the roof over his head and belle’s. he works 14 hour days ( 9 pm to 11 am ; 9 pm - 3 am at blue valley and 3:10 to 11 am at the diner ), 6 days a week ( sundays off ), 84 hours a week and he’s damn good at what he does, and seldom calls out for anything. nicky’s the kind of guy to pound three monsters and call it a day just to keep himself going. he’s used to running on little sleep because of his paternal role with belle and wanting to keep as engaged with her as possible. he usually leaves her with the finnegans so he doesn’t have to pay any babysitting money.

the one time nicky tried, dottie looked at the bills in his hand and just hugged him tightly and said, “no child of mine is going to pay me to watch theirs.” nicky cried that day and spent ten minutes crying into her shoulder and then slept on her couch for a few hours while belle played with the finnegan twins. 

nicky is a good person and he’s a really good dad. at 22 he became licensed in the state of maine to be able to foster and has fostered ten kids in the last five years. right now it’s just him and belle in the house that his parents bought that he keeps up as best as he can. the guest bathroom needed a remodel three years ago and the kitchen appliances only work when you knock on them the right way and if the wind’s blowing in the right direction, but some things are just the way that it is. 

other important things that i couldn’t work in above but you should know: 

nicky gives like ,,, just really comforting hugs that suggest a level of emotional intimacy that is likely to catch you pleasantly off guard. 

will help you buy your groceries because he has a better chance of making fifty dollars tonight than you do. 

usually sleeps on disney princess sheets because belle insisted they would look best in his room ( she was right ). his other sheets are bubblegum pink and he bought them for himself because that’s the vibe he was feeling and sometimes you just have to do what will put a smile on your face. 

his little sister is seven but nicky is the only parent she’s ever known and she usually calls him dad over nicky even though she knows the difference. 

nicky calls her his kid a lot. everyone in town pretty much knows the story. 

steady  hands  and  steady  heart  are  starting  to  shake,  pleading  with  officers  don’t  let  me  bury  an  empty  casket,  the  table  set  for  three  but  you  can’t  bring  yourself  to  put  the  plate  away,  pale  yellow  front  door  once  made  your  laugh  now  just  makes  you  sad  because  your  daughter’s  sunshine  still  lingers,  and  there’s  no  place  to  put  your  faith,  nothing  so  powerful  would  take  away  a  little  girl.

emi is considerably less fleshed out than nicky but we’re still going to do our best to give her a fair shake at an intro, so here goes ! 

noemi was born noemi sofia ibarra in pine haven, maine. though she’s always considered pine haven her home, she’s always desired that her upbringing was somewhere warmer. 

she’s a third generation doctor at the clinic, following in the footsteps of her grandfather and mother and knew from a young age that she wanted to help people. she bounced from pine haven for a while ( from ages 18 to 28 ) and followed her dreams to go somewhere warmer and graduated from emory university’s medical school in atlanta. 

she pushed through medical school immediately after graduating with her undergrad and returned to pine haven as a permanent resident when she was 29. having been home, officially, for ten years, she has found herself in the center of the community. more often than not, residents of town know they can call emi and come sit on her kitchen table if they need urgent care. 

life outside of pine haven’t wasn’t all medical school, though, because she also met her the father of her daughters. at 23 emi gave birth to her elder daughter, evangeline. that sweet little girl meant the world to her and emi spent double the amount of time awake those first semesters trying to get used to having a baby and school to balance. she was the center of emi’s universe, this baby and her father. 

emi’s second daughter, catalina, was born about eight years ago and is as much emi’s pride and joy as her older sister. the pair never fail to blow emi away in their creativity, kindness, and love, and she has made that known to them from the time they could open their eyes. though these times were sweet it’s time to fast forward to the current day because this is where emi shifts for the worse for as much as she doesn’t want to. 

two weeks ago, during the fog warning, evangeline wasn’t home with the family. emi was at work, locked down with a few patients, and when she didn’t get a phone call from her daughter, like she asks of all her family, she started to worry. panic didn’t settle in until after the fog warning and no one had heard from evangeline. frantic, begging, trying to stave off the final moments before the inevitable declaration, emi found herself begging the officers at the station: find me something to bury before absolutely crumbling against the weight of her own fears.

prior to her daughter’s disappearance, emi had put at least some stock into god but spite consumes her whenever she thinks about him. something all loving doesn’t steal child from the arms of their mother’s and something all powerful doesn’t let whatever lives in the forest to exist after taking the first soul. this town suffers because of that fog and venom pools in her mouth waiting to spit at the first person who proclaims that god will watch over her daughter. some people turn to faith for stability. emi has turned away. 

[atc74]

I Wanna Go Back

Square(s) Filled: Firefighter!Dean for @spnaubingo - Joshua for @heavenandhellbingo - Afterlife!AU for @spnfluffbingo2019

Warnings: Major character injury, description of injuries (not graphic), regrets, doubt, and a heaping dose of fluff

Summary: Dean is badly injured on the job and gets a glimpse of his past that makes him realize a few things. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2652

Written for: @spnaubingo @spnfluffbingo2019 @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @iwantthedean - I miss your face! @hannahindie - thank you always! and @muchamusedaboutnothing - thank you so much for your kind words! 

A/N: I have admired @muchamusedaboutnothing for a while now and I used her as a beta for the first time on this piece, but with comments like this, I just might use her ALL THE TIME!  This was fantastic! I love how much depth and characterization and story you were able to comfortably fit into a story of this length. And the inclusion of all the other characters just rounded the whole thing out. Thank you so very much for letting me have this sneak peek. I absolutely adore this story! You rocked this, girl.

Like Dean’s scent? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Winchester! Do you copy? I said get out of there!” Chief Singer screamed through his walkie.

“I’ve got the kid Chief, I’m on my w-” Dean coughed then his radio cut out just as an explosion rumbled through the four story apartment building, bringing most of it down.

“Winchester?” Chief Singer screamed into his walkie again with no response.

Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother, ran toward the burning rubble, Benny, Cas, and Jody hot on his heels. Chief Singer shouted at everyone to stay back, but none of them listened. Typical of his crew.

~*~

“Dean, baby, if you can hear me. I’m here, okay? I’m not mad, I just want you healthy and back home with me,” Y/N whispered. She had been sitting by Dean’s bedside since he got out of surgery. The prognosis wasn’t good.

“Dean has a pneumothorax, or a collapsed lung, and a broken sternum caused by a section of a wooden beam that had penetrated his chest. That caused a hemothorax, or bleeding in his chest cavity,” Dr. Shurley relayed the extent of Dean’s injuries to his family. “We’ve repaired the damage and reinflated his lung. His heart stopped while we were operating, most likely as a result of the trauma, but we were able to restart it. We’ve induced a coma to help his body heal, but Dean is strong and in great physical shape. All we can do now is hope and pray.”

Dr. Shurley turned and left the room, leaving the family alone with their loved one. Sam had resumed his seat on one side of Dean’s bed while Y/N remained on the other. John and Mary chose to stand, holding one another. The beeping from the machines gave Y/N comfort that his heart was strong and he would come back to them, to her. She lay her head on top of their hands and closed her eyes, the tears spilling over.

“Hello? Y/N? Sam?” Dean’s voice rang out. When he woke, he found himself in a garden, but he had never been there before and nothing looked familiar. He must have hit his head. “Where the hell am I?”

A low chuckle broke the eerie silence. “Not Hell. Heaven, son.”

Dean whipped his head around to find a man of small stature behind him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Joshua. Welcome to Heaven, Dean Winchester,” Joshua smiled and started down the walking path.

“Hey, why am I here? Am I dead?” Dean questioned, quick to catch up to the man.

“No, you’re not dead. Not technically, anyway,” Joshua replied.

“Then why am I here?” Dean demanded.

“You were dead, Dean. Your heart stopped allowing your soul to leave your body and come here to my garden in Heaven,” he explained.

“What do you mean I was dead?” Dean asked.

“While your corporeal form is still on earth and functioning, your soul remains here. Until you make a decision, that is.” Joshua revealed cryptically. “You can stay here if you wish. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“So while I’m here, my family is worried sick. My brother, my parents, my...oh God. Y/N.” Dean’s voice faltered as he thought of her.

With possibly the exception of his immediate family, Dean loved Y/N more than anything. They had been together since he had first laid eyes on her at the Fire and Ice Ball nearly five years ago. She was the only child of his boss, Chief Singer. While the chief wasn’t exactly happy that his daughter was dating a firefighter, he admired Dean’s work ethic, his dedication and he treated his little girl right.

“They’ve got to be worried and I bet they’re really pissed,” Dean muttered. He had a tendency to rush in any situation on the job, regardless of the dangers. He didn’t have time to think when people’s lives were at stake. Now, his personal life? That was a different matter entirely. He did nothing but think. He over thought every little thing. Especially when it came to his relationship with Y/N.

He knew he loved her from the moment they met, but he wasn’t the best with words. Dean Winchester considered himself a man of action and even if he didn’t say it, he showed her every day that he loved her. But did he? Did he show her how much she meant to him? How much he loved her? Did she know that he would lay down his life if it meant saving hers? Did she know he had gone out and bought a ring after their first official date because he knew she was it for him? Nearly five years later, that ring was still in his brother’s sock drawer. She didn’t know, because he chickened out every time he had tried to pour his heart out and tell her.

“Dean, you’re here for a reason. Think of this as your greatest hits,” Joshua chuckled and laid two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Memories flashed before his eyes.  

Their first date. Dragging Sam to a dozen jewelers until he found the perfect ring. The first time he made her dinner. Introducing her to his mother. The day the chief pulled him into his office and ripped him a new one about dating his little girl. Five minutes after that when Dean confessed his love for Y/N to her father. Anniversaries, birthdays, lazy Sundays.

Picking out the perfect house where Dean had dreamt of raising a family with Y/N. Surprising her with a trip to the shelter because she wanted a dog to keep her company when Dean worked long shifts and settling on the name Blaze.

“I’m an idiot,” Dean whispered.

“That remains to be seen, son” Joshua responded nonchalantly as he trimmed one of the hedges on the edge of the path.

“I’ve made my decision, Joshua. I wanna go back and do it all over. But I can’t go back, I know. Things would never be the same. But I wanna go and do it right now,” Dean blurted out. “I’ve got to make it right. I’ve been so asinine.”

“You’re sure this is what you want, Dean?” Joshua looked at him pointedly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes! I have plans and I need to act on them. Please,” Dean begged the gardener.

Joshua snapped his fingers and everything went black.

~*~

Y/N sat in the same chair hour after hour, day after day. She watched the machines that told her Dean was still there. She watched the clock that ticked by the minutes of their life together, the dreams they’d yet to share. The memories they’d yet to make. She only left when someone forced her to shower and eat, but she was never gone more than thirty minutes.

After three days, Dr. Shurley had taken Dean off of the phenobarbital, but he had not regained consciousness. Every hour he stayed still, Y/N feared that he would never come back to her. Every hour she surprised herself by crying the tears she didn’t think she had. Alone with Dean in the middle of the night, she talked to him.

“Blaze is going to be so excited to see you when I get you home. He’s staying with Jody and she has been bringing him to the station with her. My dad pretends to hate it, but we both know he loves that dog,” she laughed for the first time in days, even if it was half-hearted.

“Baby, I know you probably think that I’m going to be mad and yell at you for being so reckless, but Sam told me...he told me how you saved that little girl’s life and kept a family together. I’m not mad, I’m so proud of you. I’m lucky to be able to call you mine and our children will be even luckier to have a daddy like you, Dean. But I need you to wake up, baby. Please wake up for me,” she pleaded. Her sobs echoed quietly off the sterile walls as her shoulders shook. Y/N laid her head back down on the bed, next to Dean’s hand, still clasped in hers.

It had been ninety-eight hours and twenty-seven minutes since Dean’s surgery and more than twenty-six hours since the doctors had lifted his medical induced coma. The clock on the wall continued to tick. Along with the beeping and the steady hum of the machines sustaining Dean’s body, it lulled her to sleep, too fatigued to maintain the schedule, despite the obscene amount of caffeine she was forcing on herself.

Blaze raced around the backyard chasing a ball while giggles bounced off the fence. Y/N sat back in her chair, the sun bright and warm on her face. She was in her happy place. The home she shared with Dean, living the life they had built together.

“Sweetheart,” Dean whispered in her ear, his rough fingertips gently caressing her cheek. “Sweetheart? Y/N, you gotta wake up for me.” His voice was a soft plea in her ear. “Y/N?”

Her head shot up off the side of the bed and her eyes locked with his. “You’re awake. You came back to me!” She didn’t think she had anything left, but tears of joy streaked down her face.

“I got plans for us,” Dean whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“Dean, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” she whispered words of encouragement. “We don’t need to talk about the accident right now.”

“Not the accident, Y/N. Me, you...us. I’ve been an idiot and I should have told you how much you mean to me, how much I love you. But I thought you knew,” Dean voice cracked and his eyes welled up.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know, Dean. Baby, I know how much you love me,” she cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to it.

“But I don’t tell you enough. Nowhere near enough. What if I died and you didn’t know? I didn’t tell you how much you mean to me? That would be the worst thing I could imagine,” Dean admitted.

“I’ve been here imagining the worst, Dean. For more than four days, I have been sitting here, thinking you might never come back to me. That was near the worst for me. I’m so glad you came back to me,” she cried.

“I had to. Heaven was nice, but it doesn’t have you. I had to come back to tell you all the things I’ve been taking for granted and assumed you know,” Dean informed her.

“Heaven?” Y/N asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, but that can wait,” Dean said.

A knock sounded at the door before it was pushed open. “Mr. Winchester, it’s nice to officially meet you. I’m Doctor Shurley. Welcome back.”

The doctor did a full check on his healing. Dean’s prognosis was good, and after all the phone calls had been made, Y/N finally let herself relax a little bit. She pulled out her laptop and Dean’s favorite movie, Tombstone, when another knock sounded at the door, Sam peeking his head inside.

“Hey!” Dean greeted his brother.

“I just came by to bring you both a change of clothes,” Sam set the bag he was carrying in the corner by the restroom. He took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “Tombstone?” He groaned catching what was on the screen.

“You love it,” Dean jabbed.

“Yeah, sure I do. Right now, I’ll watch anything you want. It’s good to have you back, brother,” Sam smiled up at his older sibling, feeling whole now that Dean was awake and recovering. “Anyway, I’ll let you two crazy kids get back to your movie. It’s good to see you awake, Dean.” Sam stood and shook Dean’s hand with a brotherly pat to the shoulder. Until he was up and about, that would have to do.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, his hand squeezing around Sam’s hand.

“I’m your Huckleberry,” Sam laughed and headed for the door.

“I fucking knew it!” Dean shouted in victory. “I knew he loved this movie!”

“He loves anything his big brother loves, Dean,” Y/N pointed out.

“And I’ll give him anything he wants and needs. That’s my job,” Dean agreed. “But that’s not what this is about. I asked him to bring something for me.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” Y/N sat up, concerned.

“No, everything’s fine, Sweetheart. But I had a very interesting conversation with an angel named Joshua while I was out. He gave me a rewind of my life and I realized a couple things,” Dean started, taking a deep breath. “But the most important thing I realized is that I should have done this a long time ago.” Dean opened his hand and picked up the shiny gold ring with two fingers. “When I’m on the job, I don’t have time to think because I could lose someone in the time it takes me to make a decision. I rush into danger without pause.

“But when it comes to us, to you, it’s all I do. I think about you when I wake up and you’re the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep at night. I put so much thought into each and every decision I make and the ones we make together, that I tend to overthink and talk myself out of my first instinct. I decided I need more balance. I need to take a bit more time on the job to think about how my decisions affect my crew and think a little less when it comes to our life. I mean it took us three days to name our dog and I want to spend more time living my life with you than planning it.

“After our first date, I trusted my gut and went shopping, but I let my brain talk my heart out of something that it really wanted, because I thought it was something that I had to plan out. But then I got hurt and in the process, so did you. I don’t ever want you to go another day without knowing, without a doubt, that I love you more than anything,” Dean paused, his voice breaking and his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I wanna go back to do it all over. But I know it wouldn’t be the same. All I can do now is do better, be better for you. For us. Y/N, will you marry me?” He opened his hand that held the ring he’s had for almost five years. The diamonds still sparkled even in the dim lights of his hospital room.

“Dean, I know every morning I wake beside you that you love me. I know each night that I fall asleep in your arms that you love me. I can feel it in every single thing you do, every time you hold me. I feel it when you make me soup from scratch when I’m sick. I feel it when you pick up my favorite takeout, when you hold my hand when we walk Blaze. I feel it in my bones and you’re the only one that could ever make me feel like that,” Y/N smiled, her eyes locked on Dean’s as she spoke.

“Is that a yes?” Dean asked, his nerves taking over.

“Yes! God yes I will marry you!” She shouted, throwing her arms around him, mindful of the wires and tubing still attached to him.

“Oh thank god! I was starting to think I waited too long,” Dean pressed his lips to hers quickly before he remembered the ring. He slipped it on her finger, then admired the perfect fit.

“You think too much,” she laughed, pulling him for another kiss.

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The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

[riverheadbooks]

READER HOROSCOPES FOR AUGUST 2017

Placing bookmarks within the pages of destiny

LEO

Give us a birthday roar, Leo! Don’t be afraid of attracting a little attention -- this is YOUR month, and you’re already turning heads! Your vibe, aura, energy, whatever you want to call it -- it’s off the charts and you’re finding that people are increasingly attracted to your outgoing, vibrant spirit. Put that energy to good use to dive headfirst into those passion projects you’ve been toying with for the past few months! If birthdays are good for anything, they’re for reminding us of how far we’ve come, and how far we have yet to go. Reflect on what you’ve accomplished, and celebrate it! But don’t stop there. You’ve been granted another year, so isn’t it time to make the most of it? That said, the time has come to give yourself a little bit more care and attention. I know this doesn’t come easily to you; you tend to prefer to give rather than take, and feel more comfortable putting others before yourself. Admirable, to be sure, but there are times you need to listen to your intuition, make yourself a priority. You may find yourself in situations where a choice must be made: your happiness, or someone else’s? Draw your inspiration from your lucky book this month, an incredible tale of family ties, and the complications that arise when love is pitted against loyalty. When are our sacrifices worth it? Are some things more important than family, than love? When your allegiances are tested, what holds true? Ultimately, Leo, the choice is always up to you -- and you have another year of wisdom and experience under your belt. Draw from that, and then do your best not to look back.

LUCKY BOOK: Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie

VIRGO

It’s August, Virgo! Your birthday looms ever closer in the horizon, and you know what that means: time for some deep cleaning. What have you attracted in the past year that you know (perhaps only very deep down) it’s time to let go of? What has been dragging you down and stopping you from living your best life? Whatever those things are, this is your time to attack them with a bottle of your most high-powered cleaning spray and the coarsest washrag you own. You know better than anyone, Virgo, the freedom and joy in scrubbing at some hard-packed grit, and clearing it away to reveal the gleaming surface underneath. Half-hearted commitments, projects that have long soured, fake friendships -- these are all areas you can tackle! It can be very difficult, sometimes almost unbearably so, to let go of the old way of seeing or doing things, especially if you’ve become accustomed to certain negative ideas or people to the point that they feel like home, like normal. But that’s no reason to continue clinging to them once you’ve seen the light. The 14-year-old heroine of your lucky book this month learns this lesson in some of most harrowing ways, but her journey to freedom is one you won’t soon forget. Take heart, Virgo, and remember that you are ultimately the master of your own fate. You hold the power -- and the Windex!

LUCKY BOOK: My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent

LIBRA

It’s August, Libra, and rather than succumb to the Sunday blues (it is the Sunday of the calendar year, after all), you’re continuing the summer fun at full throttle. Your current happy place is within a large crowd lately, and lucky for you, we’re still in the heart of music festival season. But there may be more to it than just posing for the street fashion photographers at Lollapalooza and AfroPunk: you genuinely enjoy the sheer excitement and co-mingling of ideas that bubbles from being among a group of creative individuals. Not only are your friends your lifeline this month, offering you constant emotional support and accompanying you on hilarious adventures you can only share on your private blog, but even the strangers you meet may spark some new avenues of creativity you’ve never explored. Follow this impulse to profit from the collective; keep seeking new activities and areas where you can expand. You’re drawing from the most ancient instinct of living things: the compulsion to not only grow, but to change. Each new experience and memory is helping you develop into the person you’re supposed to become, a person markedly different from who you were ten years ago, twenty minutes ago, six months ago. So is it any wonder that your lucky book this month is a fascinating study of the way we think about evolutionary biology? The most minute quirks of DNA mutation can influence an entire species for generations -- pathways that emerge from seemingly nowhere that take life to the completely unexpected places. Every action, every decision you make has an undeniable reverb effect that you may or may not ever discover, so come on, Libra. Let’s see what you’ve got up your sleeve next -- and don’t skimp on the silly group photos, either.

LUCKY BOOK: Improbable Destinies by Jonathan B. Losos

SCORPIO

“I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind.” Wise words from the late great Notorious B.I.G., and your mantra for this month, Scorpio! You’re all about that paper in August: you’ve been working hard, building your network, taking professional risks, and now, getting ready to reap the rewards. What form it will take remains to be seen, so don’t count any unhatched chickens. But one thing is clear: your ambition is going to take you far. Perhaps even history books far. Who knows? But while your career continues to soar to meteoric heights, don’t forget about the people who helped you get there: your friends. Female friendships in particular are going to be crucial this month. After all, you can only work but so much, and an unfortunate side effect of putting in major hours at the office is missing out on some quality time with your chosen family. So whenever you can, be sure to make time for some much-needed gossip fests or movie marathons. You need a counterbalance to the stress of the job, and reveling in the love and appreciation of your besties is a surefire way to not lose your mind during this exciting, but admittedly draining time. And who better to draw comfort from, than your fiercest supporters? Of course, if you’re looking for another source of encouragement, maybe the more literary kind, your lucky book this month is a testament to what the human mind can achieve. Not only that, but the myriad effects that innovation that have on society as a whole. From artificial intelligence, to the barcode, to IKEA’s Billy bookcase, there is a backstory to every object you take for granted, and many of them will surprise you. So, Scorpio, now we have to know...what will your backstory be? How will you make your mark on history?

LUCKY BOOK: Fifty Inventions That Shaped the Modern Economy by Tim Harford

SAGITTARIUS

The road goes ever on and on, Sagittarius, and this is your month to experience it firsthand! That stirring you’ve been feeling to get out and explore? Now is when you give in. And let’s be clear: this doesn’t mean you should max out your credit card and fly to the opposite end of the globe, swathing yourself in scratchy fabrics and embarking on a life-threatening quest. It is completely up to you (and your budget) where to go, how to get there, what do to there, and how long to stay. Want to spend a weekend in Nantucket? Wonderful! Want to spend a month in your childhood home? Fantastic! Wherever you go, there you are, so use this time of separation from your usual to become even more in tune with yourself and any spiritual, mental, psychological scores you need to settle. Don’t underestimate the benefits of retreating from the typical trappings of your usual life; even if you don’t venture as far as you’d like to this time, take the time to sit still. Look around. Breathe. Say hello to a stranger. If your journey has taken you abroad, try to learn a few sentences in the local language. And most importantly, find a quiet place and comfy chair to disappear into your lucky book this month: the story of a young boy who has also left his home, but (hopefully) for very different reasons. Chased by dark forces, he is forced to travel across a hot, empty desert plain -- completely alone, until he encounters an old goatherd. Their paths thus intertwined, they must learn the rules of this harsh new country together. A thrilling vacation read, cautionary tale, humbling parable -- let this searing story be whatever you need it to be, while you bask in the unknown of your own brand new corner of the world.

LUCKY BOOK: Out in the Open by Jesús Carrasco

CAPRICORN

Is it warm in here, or is it just me? Oh, wait -- no, it’s just YOU. Cap, there’s really no other way to put it: you’re hot this month, and if no one has begun shooting you some furtive glances, they’re coming. This is your month for smooth seduction, and there’s absolutely no shame in that! Whether it’s an old flame or a new spark, the romantic interludes will be robust and who knows, may lead to something more. Keep your options open, and do yourself a favor? Save the spicy details for your journal. Active as your group text might be, you don’t need to share every encounter with four of your closest friends, not unless you enjoy the nonstop interrogation that is sure to follow! Sometimes keeping some secrets to yourself can make the most benign affair even more exciting, and after all, don’t you deserve some excitement? That said, Cap, don’t completely lose your head in the whirlwind of these new flings -- keep one eye on your finances, too! Finding a much lower bank balance than expected is a surefire way to bring an ecstatic high to a crashing low, so be proactive and maybe decline some of the more extravagant date invitations...unless the other party is treating, of course! Your lucky book this month is a mesmerizing account of a young girl’s mission to learn her mother and grandmother’s history -- a winding journey through truths and half-truths, memories of love, abandonment, betrayal, and new beginnings -- to, in turn, better understand herself. It’s a beautiful, moving testament to the fleeting nature of life, and the lessons we learn in youth that become invaluable to the generations to come. So go ahead, have some fun this month. Hit it while it’s hot.

LUCKY BOOK: I’m Supposed to Protect You from All This by Nadja Spiegelman

AQUARIUS

Aquarius, Aquarius, Aquarius. You’ve been living large and in charge all summer, and it looks incredibly good on you. It seems like you’ve got it all figured out: job, home, friendships, fitness -- you name it, you’ve conquered it. Well, okay, there’s one area that can use some development. You’ve been so focused on getting yourself in order over the past few weeks (or perhaps months!) that you’ve allowed your independence to push away a potential special someone. Maybe someone came to mind just now, maybe not. But this is the month to open up that part of your heart once more: even if you don’t feel ready to enter into anything serious, consider putting some time and effort towards building or re-building something a person who gets you. Sometimes you just need a person to keep you in check, to support your more wacky ideas, to hold your hands before you take major risk. Knowing that someone you care about always has your back can be incredibly freeing -- not necessarily limiting or confining, as you may have been led to believe. As long as the lines of communication are open, the cards are on the table, and you’re both open to each others’ needs, there is no reason that a healthy, successful life cannot include someone you can call a partner -- with as many or as few stipulations or boundaries as you both desire. Your lucky book this month is a spellbinding and unforgettable collection of short stories that will shed a brand new and sometimes discomfiting light on the nature of our relationships, whether romantic, familial, or otherwise. Sometimes entering a world gone slightly topsy-turvy can help us better appreciate our own -- and avoid the mistakes of the characters we come to know and love, even in the space of a few pages.

LUCKY BOOK: What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky by Lesley Nneka Arimah

PISCES

Rise and shine, Pisces! This month, you’re feeling and looking fantastic -- muscles tightening, blood flowing, skin glowing! No more late nights squinting at your phone; you’re tucking in early to avoid being sluggish the next morning. Midday bag of chips? Not for you -- a brisk walk to get a fresh smoothie has become your new habit. Between your improved diet and consistent gym attendance, you’re right on track to achieve the sort of health goals you once found nearly impossible. And it’s a good thing too, considering how things have picked up at work! You need all your wits about you as you go through these hectic days and late nights, so keep up the good work. We do only get one body, after all, and it’s always in your best interests to keep it healthy and happy. And while we know work is pretty intense right now, you know what they saw about all work and no play, right? Even though it may seem wrong to inject some fun into such a go-go-go month, you need to let your hair down once in awhile and give yourself some time to relax and let loose. So that date you’ve been putting off? Just say yes! Enjoy the attention, show off all that exercise you’ve been doing! If you’re looking for some romantic ideas, might we suggest a homemade dinner date for two? You may be committed to new fit lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean all of your meals should be bland and oat-filled all the time. Your lucky book this month is sure to give you some delicious inspiration for some flavorful meals, as well as general tips and tricks for adding a special touch to your cooking, whether the recipe comes out of a book or not. Bon appetit!

LUCKY BOOK: The Art of Flavor by Daniel Patterson and Mandy Aftel

ARIES

Beautiful Aries! This month is YOUR TIME. Your confidence is through the roof right now -- or if it isn’t it should be! You’re turning heads left and right, friends and acquaintances alike are clamoring for your attention, and the dating prospects aren’t looking too shabby either! Basically, you’re totally owning it this month, and we couldn’t be more happy for you. As summer winds to a close, take full advantage of these final few weeks: enjoy a vacation day or two, bask in the sunshine, sip some frozé with a group of friends at noon. In other words, live!!! Enjoy it; life is fleeting anyway! Of course, a word of caution: no matter how amazing you look and feel, using the world as your red carpet can have its drawbacks. Keep a tight grip on your wallet, and be careful of what you post on social media. Money is not everlasting, but that regrettable photo from 4 AM absolutely is! Leave the tabloid-worthy blunders to the celebrities, and recognize when it’s time to leave the party. Speaking of, your lucky book this month will be right up your alley: a whip-smart, hilarious deep dive into the world of celebrity culture, what feeds our obsession, and what effect internet fame has on our culture at large. Walk like the street is your red carpet -- and then enjoy cozying up in bed with this book, comforted by the fact that there isn’t paparazzi just outside your door.

LUCKY BOOK: The Stars in Our Eyes by Julie Klam

TAURUS

Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for being a homebody, Taurus. This month, you’re really into the warmth and comfort (or should we say air conditioning and comfort?) that comes from being safely ensconced at home, surrounded by your books, blankets, and favorite snacks. Maybe you’re finally get around to that deep cleaning you’ve been saying you’d undertake since the beginning of May, or there’s a room that’s just dying for a fresh coat of bright new paint. Or maybe the time has come to say farewell to your current place entirely, and try to find some digs. However you slice it, your priority this month is taking care of your sacred space, and reevaluating what the significance of that space means for you. It is a place of solitude and meditation, where you can escape the endless grind of the outside world? Is it a fortress for you and your closest loved one, where you can all be your unapologetic selves? Is it simply a place of refuge, where you can rest assured that in this tiny corner of the universe, you are safe, independent, and in control? You may find that you have much in common with the protagonist of your lucky book this month, a fiercely opinionated young woman who is on a quest to find a place she can rely on as home. Trapped in that infuriating liminal space between cultures, between countries, and does her best to carve for herself, everywhere she goes, a place that rests entirely under her control, a place where she can feel, even in miniature, that she is in a safe, familiar place. It’s a stunning tale that will put into sharp perspective one of the most pressing human rights issues of our time -- pick it up whenever you feel yourself getting a little bit too serious about paint swatches.

LUCKY BOOK: Refuge by Dina Nayeri

GEMINI

Gemini, what’s good? You haven’t had the best few weeks, but it’s a month, a new day, and life is going to have to come a little harder than that to keep you down. Luckily, this month you’re all about that extra support: partnerships and close friendships are where you’ll thrive, and it won’t feel too crowded, or like a betrayal of your own independence -- we promise. The key is to make sure the people you choose to surround yourself with add a special something that you wouldn’t be able to find elsewhere. Who makes you feel like your best self? Your most capable self? Your most ambitious self? Who lights that creative fire? Understand that while self-sufficiency is important, and your reliance on your own wisdom and wits is one of your best attributes, it can never hurt to solicit input and guidance from someone who can push you to aim even higher, and vice versa! So put yourself out there, be proactive. You can’t expect everything to come to you. Your lucky book this month is a short, trippy examination of race and class that follows a most unusual character in her quest for authenticity. Like you, she wonders who she really is, who she wants to be, and how -- or who -- can help her become that person? While you will undoubtedly avoid some of the more absurd situation she finds herself in, there is much to learn from her internal dialogue as she fumbles for ‘realness.’ Find your person (or people!), Gemini, but don’t lose sight of yourself in the process. You’re smarter and more resourceful than you know. Remember that!

LUCKY BOOK: New People by Danzy Senna

CANCER

Up and at'em, Cancer! You’ve had a leisurely summer, laying back and enjoying the ocean breeze, marathoning your summer shows and sampling mimosas at every brunch spot in town. We don’t begrudge you living the unbothered life to the fullest, but alas, it truly isn’t a party if it happens every night. And unfortunately, it’s time for the party to end -- for the time being. But you were sort of ready to kick it back into high gear anyway, weren’t you? You have a bit too much active energy to spend the rest of the summer whiling away the hours fruitlessly. This doesn’t mean you should throw all of your effort into the first opportunity that presents itself: be forward-thinking, but strategic. Know what you want, and then go after it. Get your feet wet at a few mixers and networking events so you can get some inside scoop on what’s for grabs, who to know, where to show up and show out. So go on, have at it! Dust off that resume, iron that button down. It’s time to start getting yourself back into the game. We understand that the transition back to the real world may be jarring, but you’re not a delicate flower; you can take a bit of unease and horror in your downtime literature. Your lucky book this month is a haunting short story collection that will raise the hair on your arms in the very best way. Both love story and cautionary way, it’s the absolute best selection for this month, when you need to be kept on your toes -- although we highly recommend not saving this one to read right before bed.

LUCKY BOOK: Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin

[coffeelevel8-blog]

2017 – A Year in Review // Winter Pasta with Slow-Cooked Kale, Kabocha Squash, and Golden Raisins

Although I’m a bit later than usual this year, my annual year-end post is one of my favorite things to write each year. I love reading other people’s posts, too, even people I don’t know personally. I like reflecting on how much growth and change and activity a single year can hold. It gives me perspective. But, if you’re not a big fan of this sort of thing, or of lengthy personal blog posts, skip on down to the end. There’s a recipe for a kale, golden raisin, and kabocha squash pasta that’s been getting me through this cold snap. I’ve made it four or five times to get the balance just right, and now it’s become my go-to winter pasta.

For those of you sticking with me for the long haul, let’s talk about 2017. For me, 2017 was the year of the wedding, first and foremost. After that, there was travel – but less of it than 2016 and 2015 and more of it for fun than for work. It was a year of great and easy friendships, of growing beautiful flowers, of work weekends in Maine. It was a good year, perhaps not a great year, but a good one.

The big thing – our wedding

Of course, we knew before the year even started that 2017 would be the year of the wedding. It dominated the whole year. Our wedding day turned out more beautiful than we had imagined, but it was a huge amount of work to get there. We had our wedding at my parent’s house in Maine, and it was very much a from-scratch affair. We built the barn by hand (and by we I mean mostly my parents), which was an enormous undertaking. We had gorgeous hand-made farm tables milled from trees on the property. I did my own flowers, and grew half of them. (As an aside, 2017 was 100% a year of flowers for me. I fell in love with flower gardening and arranging and I can’t wait to get my seeds started in the spring.) Every aspect of the wedding was personal and lovely, but it was so much work. I’m really glad we got married and had our closest friends and family there by our sides, and I’m really glad we’re not doing it again.

Twenty-eight countries and counting

Trevor and I kicked off the year with five weeks in Portugal, an incredible escape from the cold and dark of January in Boston. Of course, I was working the whole time, but we still got to explore on weekends and immerse ourselves in the wonderful Portuguese culture. I leave a little part of my heart everywhere I travel, but I left a big piece in Portugal. I miss the food and the wine, the lonely sounds of fado in tiny clubs, the white light reflecting off the cobblestones. I miss the café culture and the gentle winter sunshine. I miss the people, my coworkers and friends, who opened their hearts to us so easily. I miss the language, which I still practice almost daily, in hopes that I’ll need it again. I’m glad that we’re staying put this winter, after relocating for January and February in the past two years, but it was a wonderful experience to live in Lisbon.

In July, I took a long-anticipated trip to Iceland with three of my best girlfriends. It was a short trip – just five days – but absolutely packed. Iceland was stunning and wild, exceeding my already high expectations. It was also wonderful (if very tiring) to travel with friends, something I hadn’t done before beyond short weekend trips in the states. I already can’t wait to return to Iceland and continue exploring. And in November, we made a Thanksgiving trip to Colorado and Utah to visit my extended family. The sun was life-giving, and we were outside hiking in the beautiful desert every day.

And then of course, there was our honeymoon. We were gone three full weeks, making our way up the Croatian coastline, driving through the Slovenian alps, then wrapping up with a city break in Prague. It was an epic trip. It was also so nice to just be with Trevor for three weeks and… hang out. Of course we were exploring and adventuring but we were also just being us, something I had missed in the chaos leading up to the wedding. I’ll write about our trip properly someday, but for now, I’ll just mention the highlights. There was a sunset bike ride through the sleepy hill-top olive groves in Korcula, followed by an unforgettable candlelit dinner under pomegranate trees. We spent an afternoon drinking champagne and watching the sun slowly sink over the Adriatic at a seaside bar where you could climb down into the ocean at any point. We hiked up through the emerald gorges in Slovenia, following a wooden sign with a piece of cheese on it, until we reached a beautiful alpine valley with two houses, one of which did, indeed, serve us some cheese. We designed our own brewery tour in Prague, sampling the best of the Czech Republic’s beer scene. We fit so much into three weeks – it will be a hard trip to top.

For other work travel, there was one follow-up trip to Portugal in April, for my birthday in fact. Never have I received so many hugs on a single day. A July trip to Hong Kong and Singapore registers as barely a blip on my mental calendar of the year, although it was my first time in Singapore. I’ll be back to both countries in a few weeks, and I’m excited to escape the cold (and for the food! Always the food). Then just a few weeks ago, a December trip to a small town in Northern Ireland followed by two days in Dublin. I love Ireland for so many reasons but this trip was a blur, especially getting home just three days before Christmas. Overall, work travel felt much more manageable this year – hopefully I can carry that through into 2018.

The best people

I’m not particularly quick to make new friends – I’ve always done better with a small group of people I’m really close to. But after 6 years living in Boston, I have such a solid crew, many of them high school friends who have moved back to the area. They are all good, smart people who are easy to be with, and some of my best memories of this year were with them. A lazy August Sunday spent tubing down the Saco river was a highlight, as was a weekend at a friend’s Maine island cottage, complete with hours of wine-laced Molkky, a candlelit lobster dinner, the poetry reading that his father mandates, beautiful sailing, and a late night bonfire dance party. And, I almost forgot, our 10 year Andover reunion. I imagine most people don’t look forward to their high school reunions as much as we do. It was a blissful weekend full of super impressive people, an all day kickball lawn party (complete with kegs), midnight dancing, and collapsing on the lawn in fits of giggles around 2am. Sunday we couldn’t move, because we’re old now, but it was worth it. Add to this the many other dinner parties, bar nights, one epic scavenger hunt birthday party and a casual NYE game night turned dance party to close out the year, and it sums up to a year of really good playtime with really good friends.

Working and blogging and growing

I feel a huge amount of relief going into 2018 with an understanding of what I want this blog to be. I spent the first half of 2017 listening to blogging podcasts ad nauseam, investing in a new design and a mailing list and SEO plugins. I thought a lot about my content and who I wanted it to reach, and I pored over my analytics to understand how I could grow. Basically, I hustled. It was stressful and frustrating and overwhelming. And then somewhere in the middle of all that hustle I realized that I don’t want to blog as a business-owner. That’s not why I started, and that’s not what brings me joy. I have a stable, compelling career that I love and it’s not blogging – so why should I turn blogging into work when it doesn’t need to be? I want to create beautiful content and delicious recipes and tell stories as long as it feels like a hobby and not a chore. Of course, it’s nice when a hobby has financial perks, but making business success the goal of blogging took all the fun out of it. Realizing this has been so helpful.

On the flip side of this blogging decisions lies my real work. Although I went through a similar questioning phase about what I wanted my next career move to be, I came out the other side with the realization that I really like my job. I’m going into 2018 in a new role, with a team and multiple projects to manage, and I’m excited. I have a lot to learn but I work in a team with the smartest, best people, which makes all the learning and growing easier.

Now for 2018

I’ve been reflecting this week about how open 2018 feels. It’s a wonderful feeling. Of course, we have things planned – weddings to attend and house projects and a few trips with friends already on our calendar. But largely, the year feels full of potential, untethered to major life milestones. I’m excited to see where it takes us, what new opportunities and adventures it will bring. My intentions for 2018 are to bring a sense of calm into every day, to spend as much time as I can outside in nature, to prioritize my health, and to learn and grow.

Winter Pasta

And if you made it through all of that… I’m impressed. I’m guessing even my mother will skim this one. So now, what most of you are here for, a recipe for a delicious winter pasta. A few year’s back I read a magazine article about how you should always be finishing your pasta in the pan with the sauce and a splash of the pasta cooking water, and it has totally changed the way I cook pasta. It’s such a simple trick and it makes a huge difference. Since reading that article, I’ve been experimenting with what I think of as “perfect seasonal pastas.” I test them over and over again until they are just right, foolproof, and full of seasonal ingredients. So far I have a summer pasta, with heirloom yellow tomatoes and sweet onions, a creamy mushroom spaghetti that is irresistible in the fall, and a spring carbonara with ramps and meyer lemon zest. Over the past 5 or 6 weeks I’ve been testing what I’ve come to think of as my winter pasta, and I’m ready to share it. This pasta has tuscan kale and shallots slow-cooked in white wine, plump golden raisins, a hint of chile, and sweet roasted kabocha squash. It is hearty and wintery without being overly heavy or creamy. It’s on weekly rotation in our house and I hope it will be in yours, too.

Happy 2018 to all of you!

Past New Years’ posts…

2016: Feta and Onion Phyllo Pie 2015: Brown-Butter Chestnut Waffles with Poached Pears and Mascarpone 2014: Rye Blini, Smoked Salmon Dip, Russian Beet Dip, Pretty in Pink Cocktail 2013: Raspberry Sherbet Champagne Floats 2012: Butter-Roasted Cinnamon Chicken with Almonds and Pomegranates

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A seasonal winter pasta with slow-cooked Tuscan kale, roasted kabocha squash and golden raisins. Satisfying and warming without being heavy.

Inspired by Sunday Suppers at Lucques.

Author: Katie at the Kitchen Door

Yield: 2-3

Ingredients

1/2 small kabocha squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1/2 inch cubes

5 TBS olive oil, divided

sea salt and black pepper to taste

4 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced

4 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced

1 sprig fresh rosemary, needles finely chopped

1 chile de arbol, broken in half (or 1/4 tsp red pepper flakes)

1 bunch Tuscan kale, center ribs removed, torn into bite-sized pieces

1/2 cup white wine

1/4 cup golden raisins

1/2 lb. orechiette pasta (or other similar shape)

1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 400F. Toss the cubed squash with 2 TBS of olive oil and spread out on a rimmed baking sheet. Season with sea salt and black pepper. Roast in the preheated oven until tender, about 25-30 minutes. Flip the squash cubes over halfway through cooking.

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil.

Heat 1 of the remaining tablespoons of olive oil in a large saute pan over medium-low heat. Add the sliced shallots, sliced garlic, chopped rosemary, and the chile de arbol to the pan. Saute until the shallots are soft and golden brown, about 5 minutes. Add the kale along with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season with sea salt. Cook the kale in the olive oil for 3-4 minutes, stirring frequently, then add the wine and the raisins to the pan. As soon as you add the wine, stir to scrape any burnt bits off the bottom of the pan.

Cook the kale over low heat for about 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, add the pasta to the boiling water. Continue cooking the kale while the pasta cooks. When the pasta is just barely al dente, use a skimmer to add the pasta to the pan with the kale. Add a few splashes of the pasta cooking water to the pan as well, along with the grated parmesan cheese. Add the roasted squash to the pan. Cook everything together for 2-3 minutes, stirring to fully coat the pasta in the sauce and to evenly distribute the vegetables. Serve immediately.

6

Source: http://katieatthekitchendoor.com/2018/01/07/2017-year-review-winter-pasta-slow-cooked-kale-kabocha-squash-golden-raisins/

[killiancygnus]

Serendipitous Melody 13/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~4.1k

A/N:   I’m back!! Exams season finished earlier than thought so here it is: a new chapter ready for you. And a pretty long one too *throws confetti around*. The plan is to write the next chapter before going on vacation but I guess we’ll see if the muse likes the idea too or not. Anyway, comments make my day so if you liked this chapter or if you’ve just started reading this story, don’t be shy! I’m a sweet potato you can ask around :’). Seriously, I love being shouted at. I am needy.

As always, thanks to @the-reason-to-sail-home and @londonsbridge, my wonderful friends and betas, for helping me with the editing and to all the CS Writers’ Hub ladies for all the sprints and brainstorming sessions. A special thank you goes to @mahstatins too for helping me deal with this beast

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending, @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @kmomof4, @hencethebravery, @katie-dub, @captainwiley, @irishswanff, @thejollypirate, @dassala, @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans and @legendofthephoenixcs

If you want to be tagged too let me know :)

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 / AO3

After Emma’s performance on Saturday, time passed in a bit of a blur. She understood why Killian had decided to vote for Elsa - the apologetic subtle glances he’d directed her were pretty self-explanatory - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Killian had tried to talk to her after they were done with shooting, but with all the people busy with their tasks buzzing around them, she just bid him goodnight with a tight smile on her lips. He didn’t try to contact her again after that, at least, not too soon. She was almost expecting to get a text from him the morning after, but apparently, he just knew she needed time to be by herself. On Sunday, she had spent two solid hours stressing about why he hadn’t reached out to her yet. When twenty-four hours later he finally did, she just ignored his text for a while. He’d wanted to know if she would have liked to see the show with him that night, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to face him again so soon, not by spending the evening with him anyway. So, when Emma got a call from her boss that day giving her a new case to work on, she let out a sigh of relief. Bringing her phone back from her ear, she quickly typed a reply to Killian.

E: I’m sorry but I can’t make it tonight. Gotta work.

Considering how much time had passed since he sent her the text, she was surprised to see the three dots appearing under her message.

K: No problem, love.

K: Please, be careful.

K: I know you are more than capable of defending yourself, but if you need any help, even just company during stakeouts, remember I’m just a phone call away.

Emma rolled her eyes at the screen. Always the gentleman, that man.

E: I always am and thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.

Days passed without any improvement on their situation. She would always find an excuse every time he suggested spending time together outside the studios. Even when they were there rehearsing the duet the mood was far from the one that there used to be during their lessons. And he missed his friend, his Swan. The last time he had seen her like that it was when she had been chasing that poor excuse of a man, Felix. And he was scared, so, so scared that had happened to her again, that the person Emma told him she was supposed to catch had hurt her either physically or psychologically just as Felix did.   

As he came to that realization, blood drained from his face. He just hoped the reason she had been so distant lately was that she was mad at him, because he really didn’t want to see her so broken and fragile ever again. He just couldn’t.

“Hey, Jones!” A voice called behind him as he was finishing collecting his stuff after rehearsals with both Emma and Elsa and a long day at the studios.

“Good morning Lady Bell,” he greeted her, only giving a brief glance in the general direction of the door. She was standing on the threshold, her side laying against the doorframe, wearing her characteristic old, faded Pink Floyd’s tee and with a messy bun on the top of her head.

Tink wrinkled her nose, “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Jones then,” he answered back playfully, as he got closer to her putting a guitar away in the process, “You only do that when you’ve had a few libations and it’s been a while since we both drank that much alcohol.”

“Well, you’ve all been busy lately. We all have.” She said, giving him a weird look as they left the room and walked down the corridor, “I was talking about it with the guys earlier and we decided it’s high time we went out again. You know, like old times.”   

Killian rose his eyebrows in surprise, “That sounds lovely.”

“You are game then?” She asked casually, “No pretty blonde to pillage and plunder or whatever you pirate types are up to these days?”

“I- I am,” he stuttered. Did she know about him and Emma? Not that there was a ‘him and Emma’ anyway, but their relationship was much more than what it was supposed to be. And even if it was, how could Tink know anyway? They had been careful. Perhaps someone had told her? Did she see them somewhere? But most importantly, did anyone else know?

“I- There isn’t a- Why are you asking?” Killian finally managed to spit out as he moved his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Tink eyed him curiously for a moment, taken aback by his reaction. However, she just brushed it off, giving a playful push on his arm as they got outside and walked towards their cars, “I was just joking, Killian. I know I’m the only blonde in your life.”

Killian laughed nervously at that and said, swiftly changing subject, “Have you guys already decided when we’ll go out?”

“If you count ‘someday around next week’ a solid decision then yes,” she joked as they approached her shiny new BMW, “Otherwise…”

“Why does this not surprise me? It’s not like we ever decide to do anything last minute.”

“Of course not, we are responsible people,” Tink snorted, not able to keep a straight face anymore.

“Oh, definitely,” Killian nodded with a grin. He had missed hanging out with his friends. Working on Enchanted while also doing their job as musicians, left all of them with just enough time to spend their time with their significant other and family - if there were any, of course. But he had none of those. No family, not in quite a while, and the woman he was in love with was his not only his best friend, but also a contestant.

He didn’t have the time to dive into the fact that he had just accidentally admitted to himself the depth of his feelings for Emma, because Tink spoke again.

“Don’t tell the others but, you know Killian, I’ve kinda missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he admitted, caressing her arm before giving her a quick peck on the cheek, “It’s late. Go home, Tink. I’m sure Jefferson is waiting for you.”

“Yeah, he is.” Tink blushed, “Good night, Killian.”

As she sat on the driver’s seat, Killian shut the car door behind her. While the sky tinged pink as the sun set, Killian watched her drive towards the studios’ gates. He may have forgotten what it would feel like coming home to a loved one after a long day at work, but he could feel the joy radiating from her when he mentioned her boyfriend. They’d managed to keep their relationship secret for months, to protect Jefferson daughter, Grace, from the spotlight. And even after she had announced it to the world, Tink made herself clear that she wanted to keep her private life just as it was: private. Everyone understood that, fans and even journalists, so why wouldn’t this work for him and Emma too? If he wanted to keep her in his life - and he certainly did, even if that meant keeping his feelings for her by himself and remaining just friends - then he had to fight for it. She probably didn’t realize it, but just by being herself she was putting him back together, piece by piece, day after day, healing the scars cutting through his heart with only a smile. And he hoped that it was the same for her too.

A week passed and nothing had changed.

She felt a bit childish at holding a grudge for that long over something as trivial as not getting Killian’s vote last week, but it wasn’t that simple. He had been right, after all. Honestly, she was surprised no one - besides Elsa - seemed to notice or question their atypical relationship. But still, it was too risky for them to keep that up. Both their careers (well his career and her future hypothetical one) and their reputations were at stake.

So she avoided him as much as she could. And she felt horrible about it, she really did. She could see the hurt he tried so hard to conceal in his eyes during rehearsals; she could almost hear the disappointment in his voice in all the ‘Oh it’s okay’s and ‘No problem, love’s he texted her whenever she turned him down.  

It’s for the best, she used to tell herself. But no matter how many times she repeated those words in her head, keeping her distance from him didn’t get any easier.

Dammit, she was hurting too! She missed her best friend so much it hurt. Yes, she had Ruby and David and Mary Margaret, but it was not the same. Killian could - as he so proudly liked to affirm - read her so easily it was almost scary. And he was as much of an open book as she was for him too.

Rehearsals in particular were absolutely the worst.

There definitely wasn’t any goofing around and never ending fits of laughter. No innuendos (well not many anyway; the man clearly couldn’t restrain himself sometimes), no terrible puns, no babbling incoherently at the mic. They were tense, walking on eggshells around each other both when singing and when discussing their song. And you could hear this new uneasiness between them in their performance too. She knew that. He knew that. But no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t recreate artificially something that wasn’t there anymore. Not without exposing themselves, by baring their souls and forgetting anything had ever happened.

It had been a Monday (and Emma hated Mondays) when, while another fruitless rehearsal came to an end for her, Elsa walked in the room, greeting them both with a warm smile on her lips. After muttering a ‘hello’, both Emma and Killian’s eyes followed her as she plopped on the couch to revise the lyrics of her duet.  

“I’ll just -,” Emma started, putting her sheet music back into her bag, eyes focused on everywhere but his, “I’ll just go then.”

She was marching to the door when she heard the soft and quick thuds of Killian’s feet on the parquet flooring right behind her.

“Emma, wait! Could I please have a word with you?” He glanced over his back where Elsa was watching them curiously before adding in a whisper, “In private.”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded, eyes anxiously darting around.

“Thank you, love,” Killian said softly. He then turned around to face Elsa, who tried to fake nonchalance. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, sure! Take your time!” she replied quickly with a shrug, sending Emma a piercing look as if to say ‘We are so gonna talk later, girl’.

Killian opened the door, holding it for Emma as he said, a gesture of his hand following his words, “After you then, Swan.”

As soon as the door closed shut behind them, and after checking that there was no one around in the corridor, he shifted closer, the space between them getting almost nonexistent.

Emma almost choked on a gasp of air. She could feel his breath tingling her nose, and the scent of leather and faintly spiced cologne filled her nostrils.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. “The guy you were chasing, he didn’t hurt you did he? I know you are amazing at what you do and more than capable of defending yourself, but you’ve been distant and the last time I saw you like this…”

As realization dawned on her, a pang of guilt shot into her stomach. He thought the case she had been working on all those days back, the job she never told me she had been done with in a little over a day, had been like Felix’s all over again.

Taking her silence as affirmation, he paled as his eyes turned a steely blue with fury, searched hers frantically, as if he hoped to find there something that would tell him otherwise.

“Killian, calm down,” she told him, and then continued when she saw he was about to counter, “I’m fine. And before you ask me again, he didn’t hurt me, physically or otherwise. I caught him pretty quickly, actually. All it needed was a nice red dress, batting my eyelashes a bit and booting his car.”

Killian relaxed at that, breathing out a relieved giggle, which mixed with Emma’s nervous one.

Biting slightly her lower lip, she spoke again, “You are right though. I haven’t been myself lately, but after last week -” She trailed off, “I know it sounds childish but, even though I understood your reasons, and even though Elsa is a friend, I was a bit mad that you preferred giving your vote to her at first. But then I took a bit of time to think about what you said back then and you were right. We can’t keep this up, it’s just too risky. For the both of us.”

Emma took a deep breath, looking directly at him before lowering her gaze, as she ended her thought with a whisper, “I just… Maybe it’s better if we spend some time apart, Killian.”

“Emma, no…” Dumbfounded, Killian reached for her hand, his tone almost pleading.

Emma pulled it back quickly, but not fast enough to prevent his fingers brushing against hers, sending a spark of electricity running down her spine. Keeping her eyes on her feet, she tightened her grip on her purse in an attempt to give herself some strength. And she then walked past him, an apology barely escaping the prison of her lips; his name dying on the tip of her tongue.

Mondays did indeed suck. If she needed any proof, well, this was it.

Killian hated Wednesdays. He always had, ever since he was a child. If you asked around, most people would tell you that they hated Mondays the most. Even though the events of that week might have made him reconsider, he was still headset on his opinion. Wednesdays were just too far away from both the excitement of the beginning of a new week and from the relief that only the approaching weekend could give. In hindsight, judging by how the week had started for him, he could have predicted that that Wednesday would have been as bad as the previous forty-eight hours, but honestly, he didn’t think things could get any worse than they already were.

He had been so wrong.

It all started when he got a call first thing in the morning from Regina telling him - well, more shouting than telling - that there had been a change of plans and he had to get his “leather-panted ass to the studios and do the damn promotional shoots”. And that’s how he spent hours standing in front of a bright blue screen under a set of bright white lights, as a photographer snapped picture after picture of him, telling him to tilt his head just so and more ridiculous things.

By the time he got home, he barely had the time to shower that his phone went off again. Groaning, he swiped his thumb on the screen of his phone and put it on speaker so that he could freely look for something to wear for dinner with Robin and the girls. Ariel had gotten a reservation in one of those few fancy restaurants that got so popular among celebrities in LA because they wouldn’t allow any paparazzi to snap pictures of their customers while inside. She also invited Belle to tag along, which she happily agreed to.

“Killian! Oh, thank God you answered!” Tink’s exasperated voice came from his phone from where he had dropped it on his bed.

“Good evening, lass.”

“Hey. I need a favor for tonight.”

“Well you know I’m always up to do a favor or two to a beautiful woman like you,” he snickered, putting out of the closet a plain white shirt and a black vest.

“Not like that, you pervert!” She laughed, “There was an emergency at the hospital and Jeff had to go, but his car is at the mechanic so he had to take mine. Could you by any chance give me a lift?”

“Of course. Have you found anyone to watch over Grace yet? Because if not you could try ask Regina. I’m sure the lass will love hanging around with Henry.”

“That’s a great idea! I’ll call her then.”

“If that’s alright with you, I’ll be there in about an hour. How does that sound?” He asked fishing a pair of socks from the drawer.

“Perfect. Thank you, Killian,” Tink said before closing the call.

Killian took a look at the watch and then at the pile of clothes he threw on his bed as he passed a towel on his still damp hair.

Great, he thought, now I have even less time than before.

Surprisingly, both he and Tink managed to arrive just on time.

The place was as posh as he remembered, with black mirror-like walls and soft dim lights illuminating the room, but the food was even better. After some initial awkwardness, Belle fit right in with them, asking questions to them all and listening to Robin’s ridiculous stories (“Remember when a couple of fangirls approached me after one of your concerts Ariel, only to ask me if I could introduce them to Killian?” “Actually I don’t.” “What do you mean you don’t?!”). Killian hadn’t had that much fun since… Well, since the time Emma spent the day - and then the next -   with him. He couldn’t forget the spark in her eyes and the way the genuine, happy smile resting on her face seemed to illuminate the room as they watched Disney movies together.

Speaking of Emma, the fact that none of them had asked him about her yet was equally a concern and a relief. Didn’t they really notice anything? Why weren’t they pestering him with questions?  

“Mate?” Robin called him, waking him up from his stupor, “Did you hear anything of what she said?”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. What was the question?”

“I was wondering how Emma was?” Belle asked kindly again, “The show is almost over and I’ve never had the opportunity to actually talk to her. And she always seems so, I don’t know, distant?”

Killian froze.

“She’s truly amazing,” he started after taking a few moments to think what to say and how, “She’s funny, compassionate and, let me tell you, she has a hell of a punch, but she doesn’t trust people easily. It took me a while to gain her trust. Actually, at the beginning we didn’t really get along, but I’m glad we went over that.”

He was so busy weighing up each word before it escaped his mouth, that he didn’t notice the fond smile that appeared on his lips as he talked.

Belle didn’t miss it though and she observed, “You sound like you know her pretty well.”

“Well yes, she’s a friend,” Killian told her right away without thinking. Realizing what he had said, he felt the tips of his ears turning red. “I mean, by now I consider both her and Elsa a friend,” he stammered, trying to explain himself, “But Emma… I’d love to keep her around after all of this will be over, that’s all.”

He tried to ignore the pointed looks both Tink and Robin were giving him, but it was hard with the silence that had fallen after he spoke.

“Maybe we should get going,” Ariel suggested, breaking the silence as she took a glance at the horde of photographers that was starting to form behind the restaurant’s doors.

By the time they got ready to leave though, exiting the building without making much of a scene had been impossible. Killian and Tink were the first to get outside, his hand falling automatically on the lower of her back to guide her through the crowd as Robin followed them shortly with Ariel and Belle. Flashes were going off nonstop, pics were snapped and questions fired at them. It was disorienting and overwhelming.

As soon as both of them got inside the car though, they let out a relieved sigh, before following their friends’ cars out of the parking lot.

During the drive back and the rest of the night until he fell asleep, Killian prayed he wouldn’t wake up to any twisted articles about that night. It had been just a dinner with friends and colleagues, but he had been under the spotlight long enough to know how this world worked. However, a little hope never hurt anyone.

When the next morning he checked his phone though, he groaned. He had been right. Wednesdays did indeed suck more than Mondays.

After getting back home at three in the morning the previous night thanks to a last minute job her boss had put her on, the only thing Emma wanted to do on her conveniently scheduled morning off was sleeping. But of course, she got woken up far too early for her liking by someone banging at her door. Groaning, she took the pillow next to her head and she put it on top of her face to muffle the noise in the vain hope whoever it was would go away.

Suddenly the knocking stopped, only to be followed by the fumbling of keys against the lock.

“Emma, it’s me!” Mary Margaret shouted, closing the door behind her.

Emma sighed and moaned with the voice still rusty from sleep, putting the pillow back in its place, “Lemme sleep!”

“There you are,” her friend exclaimed, unceremoniously entering her bedroom and switching on the lights.

Breathing out another sigh, Emma winched at the sudden change of light.

“What are you doing here Mary Margaret?”

“Have you checked Twitter yet? Because if you haven’t, then just stay away from it. Don’t look at gossip magazines either,” she said quickly.

“I don’t - What..” Emma frowned, confused, “You’ve literally just woken me up, how could I possibly have checked Twitter or anything else? And why should I stay away from the Internet?”

“Oh, right. Well just don’t look okay?”

“No. What is it?” Emma pushed, taking Mary Margaret’s hand and pulling her down to sit with her on the bed.

“It’s about Killian.”

Emma’s eyes widened, taking her phone to check for any messages from him, “Did anything happen? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine Emma, calm down.” She reassured her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “You are going to look anyway, aren’t you?”

Emma just nodded and watched her friend pulling reluctantly her phone from her purse.

“It’s just, you’ve been a bit off in the last few days and you’ve stopped mentioning Killian at all. I don’t know what happened and if you don’t want to tell me I won’t ask, but you seemed pretty close and now with this…” she babbled, finally handing Emma her phone to see.

It was an article on one of those trashy magazines. Big pink flashy letters screamed at her ‘Has the Fairy found her Pirate? Scroll down to find out the latest Enchanted scoop’. There were pictures under that. Lots of them. They were all of Killian and Tink, she dressed in a skintight dark green dress and him in a tux. In some he was helping her out his car, in others, he had his hand on her back as they left a restaurant. There were also older pictures of them talking in the studios’ parking lot and of him kissing her cheek.

“It might be nothing, you know,” Mary Margaret said softly but Emma ignored her.

She skimmed through the article instead, the words barely registering into her head. It said something about the blurry picture of Emma and Killian at the coffee shop being actually a picture of him and Tink since he’d never commented anything on the identity of that woman. It talked about a ‘secret boyfriend’ and how close Tink and Killian always were. Emma felt sick.

“Emma? Are you alright?” Mary Margaret asked, worried by her silence.

No, she wasn’t alright. She was hurt, she was jealous and she was scared because she shouldn’t be feeling like this. He was her friend, nothing more. He couldn’t be anything more. But apparently that wasn’t enough to prevent her from developing feelings for him.

Giving the phone back to Mary Margaret, she just shook her head.

“Oh honey,” she whispered, taking Emma in her arms, “I’m sure there’s an explanation. Everything will be alright.”

Emma had never thought there would be a day worse than Monday, but apparently, it had just turned out that Thursdays were possibly even worse.

[earlyback]

It turns into a joyful sigh and weaves its way through a beautiful river of sound until it’s smoothly absorbed into some perfect, unknowable place. there ! listen ! nobody else can play such thrilling solos.

I've had that kind of experience myself: I'm looking at a map and I see someplace that makes me think, 'I absolutely have to go to this place, no matter what, and most of the time, for some reason, the place is far away and hard to get to. I feel this overwhelming desire to know what kind of scenery the place has, or what people are doing there. It's like measles - you can't show other people exactly where the passion comes from. It's curiosity in the purest sense. an inexplicable inspiration.”

how much time had passed ? Five minutes, perhaps, or was it an hour ? Or a whole day ? Or maybe time had stood still. What did Tengo understand about time ? he knew he could stay like this forever, the two of them silent on top of the slide, holding hands. he had felt that way at age ten, and now, twenty years on, he felt the same.

It was Aomame’s firm belief that the human body was a temple, to be kept as strong and beautiful and clean as possible.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, you can never escape the pressure of this water. this memory defines who you are, shapes your life, and is trying to send you to a place that has been decided for you. You can writhe all you want, but you will never be able to escape from this power.

Whenever the sixth tune on the flip side of the LP, “Atlanta Blues,” began, she would grab one of Tengo’s body parts and praise Bigard’s concise, exquisite solo, which was sandwiched between Armstrong’s song and his trumpet solo. “listen to that! amazing—surprise? Overflowing joy? an appeal for happiness? It turns into a joyful sigh and weaves its way through a beautiful river of sound until it’s smoothly absorbed into some perfect, unknowable place. there ! listen ! nobody else can play such thrilling solos. Jimmy Noone, Sidney Bechet, Pee Wee Russell, Benny Goodman: they’re all great clarinetists, but none of them can create such perfectly sculptured works of art.

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

his chest thumps. It happens more and more these days. He has to sort of struggle for a mouthful of air, like a fish in an overturned bowl.

and time is a curious thing. Most of us only live for the time that lies right ahead of us. a few days, weeks, years. One of the most painful moments in a person's life probably comes with the insight that an age has been reached when there is more to look back on than ahead. and when time no longer lies ahead of one, other things have to be lived for. memories, perhaps. afternoons in the sun with someone's hand clutched in one's own. the fragrance of flowerbeds in fresh bloom. Sundays in a cafe. One finds a way of living for the sake of someone else's future.

Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

04.26.21.06 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you

04.26.21.06 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you

clip upload : 17.36  pm **in memories to both. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

04.26.21.06 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you

clip upload : 17.41.26 pm **in memories to no.2.. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

04.26.21.06 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you

clip upload : 06.04.26 pm **in memories to no.2. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

04.26.21.06 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you

clip upload : 06.04.21 pm **in memories to both. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

04.26.21.06 am | a happy new day wishes - I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses. missing  you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love.

You - m i S S

#3649

to them - listen adequate music : c - d - s - k - k - a

post time : 18.11.26.14 pm

VW - SN - us being in fervent love.

pic : @nehadhupia​

pic: @mahirahkhan

the greatness of a man is not in how much wealth he acquires, but in his integrity and his ability to affect those around him positively. - Bob Marley

[earlybeck]

he knew he could stay like this forever, the two of them silent on top of the slide, holding hands. he had felt that way at age ten, and now, twenty years on, he felt the same.

I've had that kind of experience myself: I'm looking at a map and I see someplace that makes me think, 'I absolutely have to go to this place, no matter what, and most of the time, for some reason, the place is far away and hard to get to. I feel this overwhelming desire to know what kind of scenery the place has, or what people are doing there. It's like measles - you can't show other people exactly where the passion comes from. It's curiosity in the purest sense. an inexplicable inspiration.”

how much time had passed ? Five minutes, perhaps, or was it an hour ? Or a whole day ? Or maybe time had stood still. What did Tengo understand about time ? he knew he could stay like this forever, the two of them silent on top of the slide, holding hands. he had felt that way at age ten, and now, twenty years on, he felt the same.

It was Aomame’s firm belief that the human body was a temple, to be kept as strong and beautiful and clean as possible.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, you can never escape the pressure of this water. this memory defines who you are, shapes your life, and is trying to send you to a place that has been decided for you. You can writhe all you want, but you will never be able to escape from this power.

Whenever the sixth tune on the flip side of the LP, “Atlanta Blues,” began, she would grab one of Tengo’s body parts and praise Bigard’s concise, exquisite solo, which was sandwiched between Armstrong’s song and his trumpet solo. “listen to that! amazing—surprise? Overflowing joy? an appeal for happiness? It turns into a joyful sigh and weaves its way through a beautiful river of sound until it’s smoothly absorbed into some perfect, unknowable place. there ! listen ! nobody else can play such thrilling solos. Jimmy Noone, Sidney Bechet, Pee Wee Russell, Benny Goodman: they’re all great clarinetists, but none of them can create such perfectly sculptured works of art.

Haruki Murakami, 1Q84

his chest thumps. It happens more and more these days. he has to sort of struggle for a mouthful of air, like a fish in an overturned bowl.

and time is a curious thing. most of us only live for the time that lies right ahead of us. a few days, weeks, years. One of the most painful moments in a person's life probably comes with the insight that an age has been reached when there is more to look back on than ahead. and when time no longer lies ahead of one, other things have to be lived for. memories, perhaps. afternoons in the sun with someone's hand clutched in one's own. the fragrance of flowerbeds in fresh bloom. Sundays in a cafe. One finds a way of living for the sake of someone else's future.

Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

06.21.26.04 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.2 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you.

06.21.26.04 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.2 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you.

clip upload : 17.36 pm **in memories to both - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

06.21.26.04 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.2 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you.

clip upload : 17.41.21 pm **in memories to no.1. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

06.21.26.04 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.2 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you.

clip upload : 17.46 pm **in memories to no.1. - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

06.21.26.04 am |  blame it on the sun or the blazing desert heat.the most disciplined of women and the most reckless of men are about to clash in the most impossibly irresistible way.- missing you and no.2 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love. ** i miss talking with you.

clip upload : 17.49 pm **in memories to no.1 - witty, piquant, minded and exquisite women in my life. ** ok. take care. miss u. on 15.11.2009 | **yes on t way - message on 01.12.12 ** at **** ***** .. taking u turn. message on 10.11.2012.

06.21.26.04 am | a happy new day wishes - I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses. missing  you and no.1 virtually matter till we meet again - for us being in love.

You - m i S S

#3649

to them - listen adequate music : c - d - s - k - k - a

post time : 18.07.21.14 pm

VW - NS - us being in fervent love.

pic : @nehadhupia​

pic: @mahirahkhan

[joi-in-the-tardis]

PCM: “Acceptance”

I am a deeply insecure person.  I don’t like to admit it.  In fact, I go far out of my way to hide it.  I’ve adopted a somewhat cocky, jester-like attitude in my daily life.  I love to make people laugh.  I like being praised, but I have no idea how to handle it.  So, cocky persona comes out and handles it.  It’s a charming kind of cockiness, I think.

But, I am insecure.  I am constantly anxious that people in my life are going to grow weary of me and leave.  I worry that I’m bothering them or that they’re angry at me even when, logically, I know the opposite is true.

Instead of just asking if someone’s mad or tired of me, I pull back.  Because if I am being annoying well I should back off.  And, if I’m not, surely asking for reassurance will be annoying.  I realize that’s a little crazy, but I’m just being honest here.  If I’ve talked to you at all, I’ve probably worried later.  I don’t want to be clingy so I rarely say anything.  But, yeah, I worry.

I tried to sum up things as much as I could, but this got a bit long anyway.  So, I’m putting it under the cut.  

Please know: I do discuss my religious past.  If that triggers you or you’re sensitive about the Christian religion, please do what you need to do to stay safe.  I’m not a champion of Christianity.  Not a fan, not a believer.  But, I know there are good Christians out there and odds are some of you reading this are good Christians.  My story isn’t about you.  My beef is not with you.  Please know that.

I'm not a religious or spiritual person.  I was when I was younger, but almost a decade ago I stopped (for big and small reasons that are really for another time and place).  I don't think we humans are designed with a special purpose, fate, or destiny.  What I do think is that we make our own purposes. To me, that's a more beautiful, freeing thought.

Still, if I was born with a purpose it would surely be to love the ever-living shit out of people (hope you weren't expecting poetry here, sorry!).  There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the world that gives me as much pleasure and joy as someone sharing a part of themselves with me and having the opportunity to love on that part.  To love them completely without expectation of anything in return.  I like baking.  I like my cat.  I like the fandom life.  But I love showering people with love and acceptance.  I feel as if it's written in my very bones and blood.

The caveat, or flip-side, to that... Is that I'm terrible at loving myself.  Even if it's the very same thing I am loving someone else for.  I have deep-seated fears that I, myself, am unlovable.  Not because I'm an awful, terrible person.  I know better than that.  I'm okay.  Ha.  But, because there's just too much of me to love.  Too many facets.  Too many quirks.  Each time I uncover a new one I wince and withdraw, thinking to myself that I can't handle being much more special (special snowflake special, yeah I’ve internalized that) than I already am.  Or rather, that the world- at some point- isn't going to put up with me anymore.  People already think I'm strange (sometimes in a good way, sometimes not-so-good)... I don't want to be kicked out of one more circle.  I don't want to step in to one more smaller circle.  I long to be loved and accepted just as I am, but I spend a good majority of my time packing away certain parts and stowing them out of sight because I fear I'm impossible to love when I show up with all of me, all at the same time.

I'm simultaneously afraid that I am too much to handle and that what I have to give isn't good enough.

I was in my sophomore year of high school when I realized I wasn't straight.  I had fallen for my best girl friend without even realizing that's what was happening.  It came to me in a dream one night, which was odd because I rarely remember my dreams.  But, once I realized it, I couldn't shake it. 

At the same time, I was heavily active in a small non-denominational church (with Methodist flavor) that was mostly full of family members.  It was not the church of my childhood, but a part that had broken off and started their own.  The convenience was that it was only a couple minutes bike ride from my home.  I attended Sunday sermon and Sunday evening bible study along with a gathering on Wednesday nights called “Christian Conversation” where we discussed a Christian perspective on modern happenings.  I participated in all youth activities and community outreaches (though I drew the line at going door-to-door; I didn't think it was right to disturb people in their own homes).

The thing I didn't quite understand when I joined this church was that the whole reason they had split off from the original was because it had decided to accept LGBT+ clergy.  At about the time my eyes were opening to who I was... Was exactly when they started really discussing “the gays” in sermons, studies, and Wednesday night meetings.  I don't even remember exactly what was said.  I just remember the feeling of sitting in the pew while people that I loved- family, friends, respected elders... people I wanted to BE- discussed what an awful sinner I was.  How I was dirty before God.  Just. Because. Of. Who. I. Loved.  I was loving wrong.  I remember gritting my teeth so I wouldn't start screaming or crying.  I remember going to the church after-hours and just sitting on the steps outside, praying and trying to reconcile it.  I remember at the time my one confidant was someone in the church and I knew without a doubt I couldn’t talk to her about this.  I was alone.

I remember confessing my feelings to my friend and she reciprocated.  I remember being curled up with her that whole night, staring at her ceiling fan and trying to sort out how this was supposed to work.  I loved her but I also loved God. My church said I wasn't supposed to love her.  By morning, I had talked myself out of it.  I told her I couldn't.  I think, honestly, this was the beginning of the end of our friendship.  I can't say I blame her... But, that doesn't mean it's not a wound I carry.  I often wonder what would have happened if I had swung the other way with my thoughts that night.  If I had chosen her over my faith. With time and distance I can see that, ultimately, choosing anything over my faith would have been fine in the long run since I don't have any now.  But, then again, there are so many things that happened (good as well as bad) because I still had faith in to my early twenties. So, I circle back to not wanting to change it.  Still, I ache for younger me.  I took the dissolution of our friendship very hard.  I took it out on myself, emotionally and physically.  I erected a ton of walls after her that weren't there before.  Most of them are still intact.  It hurts me to think of myself before then... I was so much more open.

Still, to carry on, I stuffed my affections for the “same-sex” (I now identify as non-binary so... it's not opposite or same anymore) and stayed in the church. Eventually that church dissolved dramatically.  The pastor left due to health reasons, the co-pastor left for family reasons.  That makes it sound non-dramatic and easy but it was neither of those things. They had been my church family for 9 years and I was bereft without them.

So, I set out with a friend of mine to find a new church home.  We tried Methodist, which was where my roots were.  But, decided it was too old of a demographic.  We were used to contemporary music and sitting up front, they were used to old hymns and sitting quietly in the back.  We tried a couple others and found them to be lack-luster as well.

And then we were invited to an Apostolic Pentecostal church.  I'm not going to go in to too much detail about the church.  Honestly, I still have some twitchiness about it.  It was a skirt-only, never-cut-your-hair, baptisim-to-get-to-heaven, tongue-talking church.  I was in it for almost 3 years.  To this day, I wonder how exactly they got so thoroughly in to my head.  It took me over 4 years after moving to Ohio, 600 miles away, to shake the last trappings of that church. But, again, this isn't really the story I'm looking to tell.  Suffice to say, if my Methodist-flavored churches didn't like homosexuality, this one didn't either.  But, by then, I had shoved it down pretty far.  I hadn't told anyone in a long time.  And, when I did confess it to my best friend in the church (with whom I am still friends, now that we're both out of the church) I did so by saying that I “had a friend that I had loved too much.”  (I had loved incorrectly.) She knew what I meant and she didn't judge me.  Thankfully.  I wouldn't know until years later that it was because her sister had come out to her when they were much younger.

Moving out to Ohio was the best thing I ever did for myself.  I suddenly had a space full of people who never knew who I was back home.  They didn't remember me in diapers.  They didn't remember how heavily I had always been involved in church.  I started from scratch.  Yes, I had some of the trappings- I still wore exclusively skirts.  I still had really long hair.  I still believed in God, though that was waning.  But otherwise?  I felt like I was stepping out of the mold that I'd been cast in and I could finally breathe deep for the first time in my life.

Little by little I found myself.  I dropped my faith.  I lost the skirts.  I cut my hair. I rediscovered all the music that I'd pitched in favor of strictly Christian alternatives (though I have to say I dearly miss some of the Christian music singers, I can’t really bear to listen to them anymore).  I got my own place and I read what I wanted, watched what I wanted, created what I wanted.

Eventually, I let myself admit that I wasn't straight.  Accepted it.  Came out to people.  It became a little easier every time, though to this day something inside me trembles each time I do it.  You’re never finished coming out.

I fell in love again for the first time in ten years.  That didn't end really well, either, and it aches. But, in hopes of keeping this from running on forever, I'll just say that that person isn't in my life anymore.  Some relationships, they said, were just too difficult to maintain. I admit that, no matter what they meant, I took that to me that I wasn’t worth the trouble.

Still, they introduced me to Tumblr where I learned all kinds of new terms.  I'm still learning- I'm not an expert; far from it!  And, through this learning process I've come to discover more about myself.  Not new aspects, per say, but uncovering and understanding myself better.  I have a new language with which to express that understanding.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm still trying to sort out my gender identity and sexuality. I don't really understand myself completely.  And, what I do understand, I still struggle to accept.  Not because there's anything inherently wrong with these aspects of myself.  Just, as I said before, it's more a struggle thinking it's too much (that I'm too much).  I say I don’t want to step in to a smaller circle...  But, it’s more like I am in the circle already and not sure what to do about.

I'm 31 years old, I've been in love 3 times in my life (I skipped one on you, sorry, but just know that I was in a long distance relationship with him and that we're still friends- I'm not mentioning it because it is my only positive romantic relationship) and I've never had sex.  I've never wanted to have sex.  

Well, that's not true.  I've felt societal pressure to have sex because it's everywhere.  It's a given.  It's what you're supposed to want.  But... I don't?  It doesn't feel important to me. I'm sensual; if I trust someone I will cuddle them silly.  I've had two kisses in my life, if one of them even counted, and it was... weird.  I'm not saying I'd be adverse to trying it again, but I'm not eager, either. To me, people are beautiful aesthetically: I enjoy looking at lovely people.  But I don't desire them.  I enjoy reading about the connections between characters I like and what they enjoy (ie, I like fics with smut *shrug* though I like it to have a reason).  But, that’s about the end of it for me.

I had a date that went horribly wrong about 3 years ago.  We had met at a used bookstore.  He was co-owner.  I spent a lot of time there perusing the books, writing my own stories, and chatting with the owners.  So, when he found me one Facebook I already knew him.  When he asked me to coffee I went.  I was very nervous but decided a second date wouldn’t hurt.  Neither one of us had a whole lot of money so I invited him over to show him some Doctor Who (I kid you not, I invited him to Netflix and chill but I meant it literally, okay?)  

I spent the entire time absolutely terrified that he'd want to touch me. I wasn't afraid of him.  He was a perfect gentlemen. It just wasn't until that very moment on that very date that I realized I didn't want to be touched that way.  I kept thinking “what will I do if he does try?” and “why am I feeling this way?  he hasn’t tried anything??” I don’t even remember how I got him out of my cave.  I think he talked himself out and it got late, honestly.  I spent the entire time shrinking further and further into myself, both emotionally and physically.

After that, I did a lot of scrambled thinking.  I would ask myself what I’d do in scenarios, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  At one point I asked myself if David Tennant himself showed up with a signed and notarized letter from his wife saying that we could have one passionate night... would I do it?  My answer was a firm NO. It didn’t even require any thought.  It was an immediate no, of course not.  I would much rather spend the night on the sofa with popcorn and cheesy sci-fi or talking about whatever he wants to talk about because he talks so good, ya'll.  So if DT doesn't have a chance, what chance does anyone else have?

That all being said, I struggle with calling myself ace-spec.  Because I wonder if I just haven't met the right ONE yet.  Maybe there is someone out there that would interest me that way.  That hope is an ever-dimming candle, but it's still there.  I know, from my own research, that this is a common ace hurdle.  And it’s something that’s commonly thrown in the face of people when they come out as ace.  I just can’t quite let go of it completely.  I can’t imagine a person for whom this would change... But I also never really saw this coming?  Do I want to be different for me or because it’s just too hard?

I worry that no one will have me because I won't desire them. I'll love them, of course, because it's what I DO.  It's what I live for, as I said.  I can romantically love with breath-taking depth, I’ve learned. 

Though, interestingly enough, I have a hard time identifying the line between platonic and romantic love. It's really smudged and grey for me.  I think, because I love with my whole heart, regardless.  There are no steps of love with me.  If I care about you, then I love you.  If you walk away, I'll carry on loving you.  It doesn't stop.  I might not pine as hard years later.  But you'll still be there for me.  The feeling won't go away. I've described it thusly:  I don't give people pieces of my heart. My heart expands for them.  There's a new space inside it for that person.  And if they choose not to live there anymore?  That place doesn't disappear.  It'll always be there and it will always be theirs.

I know what I would say to someone who said any of the above to me: if they can't accept that part of you then they don't deserve you.  Find someone who loves all of you and that's the ONE.  But, that's easier to say to someone else (and I MEAN it when I say it) than it is to say to myself.  Because it hurts loving someone with everything, that being my main and only expression, and having that not be enough.  It's all that I have.  It's everything. If I hand over my heart (or expand it for you) it's me making myself vulnerable to an unbelievable amount of pain.  To me, that's so much more than just taking off my clothes. (Not to belittle those who express themselves through physical means.  It's just different for me.) If I truly loved someone and they told me that that wasn’t enough?  I shudder to think.

I'm not sure how to wind this up.  When Pride rolled around I was already in deep introspection about my sexuality (or lack there of).  I got a bit overwhelmed when it was suddenly everywhere.  I had previously tentatively labeled myself as demi-grey ace.  Because maybe if I had an emotional connection that lasted long enough, physical attraction would bloom from that. And, I'm not 100% convinced that it wouldn't (that poor, flickering candle).  I do worry that I’d try, regardless, just to make someone happy.  I would like to say I wouldn’t... but I know me and my insecure little heart.

Either way, though, I am ace-spec. Concretely.  I'm working on accepting and loving that part of myself now.  It's funny because all my life it has been other people and organizations putting up walls for me that I had to bust down to accept myself.  Now?  It's really just me and my own fears.  Somehow, that makes it worse.  I can tell other people to go screw themselves.  My own fears aren’t so easily dismissed.  I like to speak with a lot of bravado, saying I’m fine being on my own.  And, for the most part I am.  But, inside?  I want to feel safe, loved, and cherished.  I want someone with whom I can be all of me, all the time... and have that be the norm for us, rather than something special.  I want someone I can cuddle up with and know that there aren’t added expectations.

This month, being Pride, I decided to funnel all of this frustration and introspection in to a sculpture. Because art is a positive coping method.  I confess that I had hoped to be in a better head-space about my identity by the time I finished the project, which was not a fair expectation at all.  I am, a bit. Better for having written this out.  Better for having come out to my friend recently because I wrote this out (I’ve been sitting on it for a few days).  Better for her having told me that she already knew and that it was okay and that I’m still worthwhile.

I guess what I really want is to skip all of this mental and emotional work and get to the acceptance part.  Which, isn’t how these things work.  You would think I’d know that by now.