#girl this was Not meant to turn into a 9 page comic :sob:

[celestetcetera]

Oscar remembers the day Oz died and it’s really painful for the both of them. Oscar’s crying, and Oz is repeating how sorry he is, how he should have stayed dead, so that he could save Oscar this pain. And Oscar, through tears is comforting Oz while Oz comforts him, still saying through a broken voice how sorry he is.

[sorcerersofnyc]

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 1/9

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo reflects upon his relationship to you, his only tether to his wife and closest friend.

Slow burn, previous relationships, angst, various mentions of death & mourning. You both lost your spouse. You're a regular civilian person. Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics.

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

I meant to write a one-shot but, as it turns out, I have feelings for this man.

I'll have part two by the end of the day and hope to update steadily.

***

He looks forward to coming face-to-face with Karli, the girl responsible for the birth of a new faction of Super Soldiers. His plan for her was simple really: He would find her, and then he would end her—just as he did Nagel.

Sam and James lack the conviction to do what needs to be done, and it’s that weakness that makes Helmut invaluable (that and he’s the one with the private jet.) So he bides his time and waits.

Helmut would put an end to Karli and her acolytes. He would make sure of it.

But it’s night now, and he’s tired, so instead of plotting, he prepares a meal in the little kitchen near the cockpit.

James relaxes on the couch and Sam sits across from him in the lounge area, discussing something not meant for his ears. So as he does his work and delicious aromas permeate the air, Helmut decides to let their food cook a little longer than he usually would. By the time he decides to turn off the heat, Sam is contacting an associate—someone he hopes can help them locate Karli’s mentor, Donya Madani.

It isn’t a bad plan, enlisting the help of others, but Helmut knows how strenuous locating displaced persons can be; locating the dead was a much easier feat.

Sam’s associate wouldn’t find Donya as long as she’s alive.

“Now what?” James asks, his voice and disposition bitter as Helmut hands him the plate. He eyes the meal with suspicion.

“We wait” Sam can barely withhold his frustration with James, but he accepts the food with a nod.

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes.”

Helmut has no burning desire to listen to Sam and James argue on and on about symbols and shields. It’s clear whatever they have between them is fraying—ripping at the seams.

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

“I know of a place we can go until then.” He says, settling down into his chair. Helmut doesn’t give them a moment to ask questions, instead, he asks Oeznik to adjust their course towards Spain.

He’d know exactly where to port.

And though the journey would be long and annoying, he would handle it as handled every arduous thing: with patience and a glass of whiskey.

Besides, his impending headache will be well worth it; he’ll get to see you again.

***

Before she was his wife, Heike was his girlfriend, and in those days, she longed to see the world outside the trappings of nobility. So she studied abroad for University and adventured out into the world. But despite her dazzling personality, she never expected to have met a friend so quickly. (She confessed as much to him the day after she arrived.)

So when she ran into you—quite literally—while searching for her class building, she was overjoyed. You were headed to the same lecture (as Heike would recount later,) and decided to share a bench as you looked over a ridiculously simplified map.

Heike couldn’t wait to tell him of the ‘lovely Fine Arts major’ she met that day (and every day afterward.)

You were all but joined at the hip ever since; you were there for all their important dates — their engagement, their wedding, the birth of their baby.

But despite your somewhat frequent presence in his home and in his life, Helmut never thought to consider you a friend, not really.

You were his wife’s friend, someone who came to town, swept her up, spoiled Carl, and left days later.

But when Heike hosted dinner for one of her milestone birthdays, your life became entangled with his further. Because on that day, you caught the eye of his closest friend, Dominik.

Dominik had no title. His family had been nobility once, many years ago, but their words no longer held sway in politics or court.

So society wouldn’t care if Dominik married a Sokovian woman or if his partner came from old money. There would be looks, of course, and there would be whispers, (Sokovia was a fairly homogenous society, after all, and with that came many old-world sensibilities,) but most were content to let him be.

Dominik was free to live his life with impunity.

So he might have married anyone he liked—in fact, he might have had an easier time courting a woman more easily swayed by his charm and vast amounts of money—but you enchanted him from the beginning, he didn’t want anyone else.

“They would make such a cute couple, wouldn’t they?” Heike asked that evening, her large eyes filled with mischievous glee. They both had the misfortune of watching Dominik flounder as he spoke to you and Helmut often wondered if she set you up on purpose if she somehow knew that love would run its course.

*

Helmut remembered one particular day; it was hot and he found his friend tucked away in the stuffy library of his family’s estate. He looked studious, thoughtful, things he rarely expected Dominik to be.

The annotated books were arranged in neat piles, obscuring Dominik’s tired eyes.

“What are these?” Helmut asked him, inspecting the pile with curiosity.

He said your name with a sight, almost dreamily.

“She said she likes to read, so I asked about her favorites,” he told him, gesturing “She told me these were ‘essential reading.’ ”

He was never meant to read them all at once, but he was determined to impress you.

Endlessly curious and amused, Helmut decided to read them too. (He found the one on Pre-Columbian art extremely insightful, as was the one on the political importance of diasporas, and of course the one on Marvin Gaye.)

But it wasn’t until a year later, when EKO Scorpion was deployed, that he realized the true depth of Dominik’s feelings for you.

Because usually, when Dominik received one of your amorous letters, he would grin and gloat and parade himself through camp.

“Look,” he would say, waving the envelope around as if it were your banner, “I have someone waiting for me.”

But then one night, after a back-breaking mission near the border of Lithuania, Helmut watched his friend pull your letter from the pocket of his uniform. The night was damp and cold, but he read the letter quietly, thumbing at the wrinkled page.

And he was happy for him, he was happy for you.

It was nice, Helmut remembered, watching your courtship from afar and offering advice where he could.

He was proud to stand beside Dominik on the day of the wedding, proud to watch see your love take root.

Though it took a great deal of compromise for you to move to Sokovia (you didn’t like the idea of living in a country so bloodied by war, you were worried about exclusion and monotony, and you found the film culture’s lacking,) but once you did, he and Heike entertained you on the holidays.

There had been no children between you and him, but there was plenty of love.

There was so much love, in fact, someone found your letter in the pocket of his uniform the day they pulled him from the rubble of Novi Grad.

“Does anyone know where his wife is?” An officer asked.

“Does anyone know where anyone is?” Another replied.

It was an endless cycle of death and sorrow as people dug soldiers and civilians from the wreckage and debris.

Some were alive, most were dead.

People cried.

Families broke apart.

People begged and fell limp in the streets.

Helmut buried his entire family.

You buried your husband and his father.

You had no one left.

*

You made a beautiful speech at the service, one that spoke volumes of love you both shared.

“I loved him,” you said, “and he loved me.”

But when the service was finally over and you stood at the site of his freshly dug grave, you lingered almost absentmindedly, at a loss for something to say.

Helmut joined you, after a while, standing in silent solidarity. You’d done the same just a few days prior. He waited for you to speak.

You keep your eyes cast down as you do.

“I’m standing here and I... I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe they’re gone.”

All because of the Avengers, he thought. They took everything from you both.

“What will I do without him?” When you looked at him, your eyes filled with tears, Helmut knew better than to say what he was thinking. He couldn’t tell you he longed to watch the world burn, that he wanted those so-called ‘heroes’ to have died in the place of those he held dear, that he wanted revenge.

So he said the next best thing instead:

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised.

“Thank you, Helmut. But… I…” You wanted to tell him you’d be alright, but the lie lodged itself in the back of your throat and a sob pushed forward instead.

“Please…” He beckoned softly, “It’s what they would have wanted. Heike and Carl… they adored you. I can do this much at least.“

You were the only thing he had left of the ones he loved.

He didn’t want to let you go.

***

Thanks for reading! Look out for part two! The reader will have more interaction with Zemo.

Next

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 25

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for mild sexuality 

Word count: 7022

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 |

This is it. The second to last chapter. On the page, the dust has settled and destinies are set in motion. And in reality is me, in messy hair and pajamas, sobbing in front of my laptop screen at how happy I am for these characters. I cried at their pain, and now my heart soars with their happiness. Is it something that happens with other other writers? I hope it isn’t just me. 

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Hey you. I’m surprised you’re still up.” She walked around the sofa and sat on his lap. The tv set off weird shadows in his living room.

“How’s Olivia?” He pulled her closer.

“Fine,” she said. “Cried for bit more, but honestly, she’s a fucking trooper. I didn’t do nearly so well early on.”

He caressed her cheek. “Me neither. I spent three days in my shop, crying and not being able to get anything done. Crying and woodworking don’t mix though – moisture makes the wood swell.”

“You can be funny about it now.” She covered his face in kisses. “I think I’d fall to itty bitty pieces if I saw you weep. And not because you’re a man, though. Because you’re you.”

“Or maybe because I’m a seriously ugly crier,” he said. “Even my ma says so.”

“Awww,” she said. “I didn’t know it was a thing. Who cries pretty anyway?”

“Actresses, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah, because it’s not real,” she said, and looked at the TV. “What you watching?”

“Nothing important,” he said, and turned it off before she could get a good look.

“No, you don’t,” she said, and wrested the remote back.

“We shouldn’t even be watching telly now. Time’s a-wastin’,” he said, wrapping her arms around her waist and trying to tickle it away.

“I  want to see what you were watching,” she said.

“Something manly. A car show,” he said jokingly.

“How’s that manly?” she said, giving him a quizzical look. He forgot she’s been living with lesbians for 15 years. “I saw period costumes. Do those hosts wear those?” She waggled her brows and turned on the television.

She smiled. “Pride and Prejudice. The one with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy,” she said, nodding her head. “You’re a man of discerning taste.”

He shrugged.”I don’t like the newer adaptations. Ehle and Firth got it right,” he said.

“And it’s not on demand. You own the DVD, thank you very much,” she said, and kissed his neck.

“I’m a sucker for an underdog love story,” he said.

“Is that what it is?” she said.

“Mr. Darcy wasn’t terribly skilled with the lady,” he said. “But with patience and respect, he finally earned her love.”

“What would the mouth breathers say to you being a Jane Austen fan?”

“The mouth breathers can lick my arse,” he said. She giggled into his shoulder. He blushed and rubbed her back.

“You’re not going to get rid of that thing in your bedroom, are you?” she said, referring to the framed slogan.

“I don’t think so. I might put it up in my shop, to remind me. Not only of the bad, but the good.”

“Hail to the alpha!” she said, and reached around to pinch his butt. He slapped hers and growled, and they kissed until they were breathless.

“Take me upstairs,” he said, and slid his hand up her shirt.

“But you just started it,” she said, pointing to the tv.

“And?” he said. He kissed the swell of her breast.

“I want to quality time with you outside of bed,” she said, and scratched lightly at his lower back.

He tipped his head to look at her. Already, she made him feel like he’d wasted 13 years.  Him and Olivia spoke about the difference between lust and love. Neither of them were innocent of obsession. But this, although passionate, did not feel the same.

“Do you know that your expressions change when you’re thinking?” she said, smiling up at him. “It’s adorable. What’s on your mind?”

He rolled off and spooned her. “Things. Good things,” he said.

“I’m glad,” she said. She played with the coral beads at his wrists. “You wanna know something strange?”

“Always,” he said, and wriggled his way to comfort behind her.

“Being around you is relaxing. I know I only have hours left with you, but your warmth makes me so sleepy. Not an exhausted sleepy, just a deep relaxation feeling.”

“It might be all the sex,” he joked. She laced her fingers in his. “But seriously. Maybe it’s that you’re not anxious.”

“You’re right,” she said, taking a deep breath. Even that felt easier around him.

“You’ll find I’m right a lot,” he said.

“Wit,” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.

“When we first met, you looked like you could break rocks with your bare hands,” he said. “Just, squeeze, and grind them to dust.”

“How’d you figured out my secret talent?”

“Wit,” he repeated, and nuzzled her. “Did you ever watch The Neverending Story?”

“Of course,” she said. “It was dubbed in Spanish, though. Watching it in the original english is still weird,” she said, and laughed. “The voices are so off.”

“You remember the Rock Biter?” he said.

“Are you calling me lumpy 50 foot rock creature?” she said, turning to him.

“No. He crushed and ate rocks.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. He had a pretty awesome motorcycle,” she said.

“I was more partial to the super speedy snail,” he said.

“It was pretty amazing,” she said, and her eyes went distant. “Are you gonna speak to Alex?” she said.

“Way to change the subject,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Are you okay?” she said. “I haven’t forgotten what happened.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed it. I don't hate her, though. Far from it.”

“But you’ll tell me if you’re not fine?” she said, searching his gaze.

“I promise,” he said, kissing her fingertips.

“Good,” she said, and turned back toward the tv. “I don’t do the strong silent type thing. You can talk to me. I don’t promise I won’t initially act in the defensive if it’s about me, but for you, I promise to push through and listen.”

He sat up. “Who even are you?” he said, shaking his head.

“What? Criticism is hard. But I’ve got to listen if it’s from someone I love. It’s important.” And she meant it. She would not become her mother.

“There you go again,” he said, and stood. She sat up.

“What?” she said.

He walked in front of the window and held out his hand. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I realized in all this time, we haven’t danced,” he said.

“We’ve done the horizontal bop enough,” she said. She snorted. “The no pants dance. The beast with two backs.”

“Wit,” he said.

“You like to dance?”

“I love to. I can’t say I’m good at it, but I do it as often as possible,” he said. He scrolled on his phone while his other arm rested around her waist.

“You saw my awesome pop and lock skills,” she said, perking up.

“Awesome, though? Hmmm,” he said and giggled his maddening high giggle.

“Pfft. I can throw down with the best of the b boys,” she said.

“Eh … I have a feeling you can’t,” he said.

She chuckled and tried to look at his phone. “So, you have any slow jams in there?”

“Lots,” he said, squinting at the screen. “All the finest.” He selected something with a sardonic grin. Instead of Billie Holliday or Damien Rice, Ariana Grande’s flutelike voice filled his living room.

“No Luther Vandross?” she said. He gave her a challenging look. Her eyes narrowed. The techno chorus made the comic book figurines on his shelves tremble. With a laugh, they danced madly around the room.

The fell on the sofa, panting and smiling.

“I can’t understand a word they were saying, but the music slams,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“I learned the important phrases in Korean - like hello, I’m hungry, and let me love you, girl,” he said with a giggle. She took off her shirt and dabbed it on her chest. He waggled his brows and ran his finger between her breasts. “I love a sweaty woman.”

“Good, ‘cause I sweat like horse,” she said. “I’ve sometimes broken a sweat while thinking.”

“I think you mean ‘sweat like a pig’,” he said.

“That’s silly. Pigs don’t sweat,” she said. “What are you thinking about that makes you sweat?” he said.

“Stuff and things,” she said, and winked at him. “Are you ever gonna tell me why you love K-pop so much?”

He went to the kitchen, then came back with two beers. “It started in uni. My roommate Will used it as a concentration aid whenever he wrote code. At first it drove me mad, but then I began to understand his method. The music’s fast,  and good, but since we couldn’t understand the words at the time, it made the work go fast.”

“So that’s why you listen to it in the shop as well?” she said. “To concentrate?”

“Yes, and also because it’s awesome,” he said. They cuddled on the sofa and drained their beers.

“Are you going to completely give up Big Data?” she said, smiling. She liked saying it.

“I might want to open a custom furniture business sometime, but I know I won’t be able to stop writing code.”

“You’re serious about that? The furniture?” she said. “Not that you can’t do it. Liv’s desk is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Of course,” he said. I’ll work out a barn in rural Scotland and ship my creations all around the world. My pieces will be a silent symbol that you’ve made it.”

Her eyes got bigger. ”That’s ambitious,” she said. “Will you make me something?”

“Sure. A matching love spoon. Or a carved salt and pepper set. You know, things you can afford on your meager artist’s salary.” She rolled her eyes and kissed his shoulder. “Or, maybe,  if you want and we ever get to that point, of course …”

“What?” she said. She put her legs on his lap.

“A house.” She was silent. He fidgeted. Maybe it was too much, too soon. “Or not. I said it only because I remember you mentioning you hated living in New York.  It’s silliness,” he said quickly.

She shook her head, but got on his lap and kissed his face repeatedly. “I do. It’s filthy. I miss clean air and green things as far as the eye can see.”

“How about dirty white things?” He meant sheep.

“Huh?” she said. She was humbled. How easily he can offer her love, shelter, and safety. Again, she wondered what she had to offer him. Being in that home only three months in the year? Discomfort crawled up her spine as she realized that maybe Ella … maybe she wasn’t a heartless monster. Maybe, she needed more than financial stability. She invited her along many times, but Ella wasn’t like her in that way. She didn’t need to be in the different place every month to feel like she was accomplishing something. She just needed her attention, and her time. She sighed.

“I’ve ruined the mood, haven’t I?” he said. “Typical.”

She kissed him, softly and repeatedly. He flushed with the tender attention, but held her closer.

“You haven’t ruined a thing,” she whispered, and kept going.

“I know it’s adolescent to lie around planning your life together after only a week,” he said. “I don’t want to make you feel pressured. I’m immensely lucky that you even agreed to call me sometimes after tomorrow.”

She grunted. “Call you sometimes?” she grunted. “I would have you at no more than arm’s length if I could.”

He sat up. “I could be your assistant. Build the installations,” he said. “Then we’d never be apart.”

“You deserve more than building framing,” she said.” I don’t want you following me around like a one person entourage.”

“I can do what I want with my skills,” he said. “I’m pretty handy with a hammer.”

“You have far too brilliant a skill set for such things. And no, being in love isn’t adolescent.”

“I didn’t say that. Playing an adult game of M.A.S.H. after a fortnight is. A little,” he said. “I can wait.”

“The reason teenagers do that is because they haven’t gotten their hearts broken yet. Not because they’re young and silly,” she said. “It’s not time, but experience that makes us cautious.”

“You’re not just beautiful, but wise,” he quipped, but she fascinated him. It was absolutely true.

She got off his lap. “Let’s go outside and look at the stars,” she said. He took her hand and guided her to a wood lounger close to his lilies.

“Your garden smells incredible,” she said. They lay side by side, looking at the sky. Gladly, the last of the rain clouds drifted away by sunset. The moon was almost full, and it painted their skin silver. “The lilies are glowing.”

“Mmm,” he said, and pulled her closer.

“I’m going to miss you. So much,” she said. Her voice trembled dangerously.

“Shh,” he said, but his eyes burned. “Maybe the separation is only temporary. I’ve always dreamt of driving down the Pacific Coast Highway with the top down. In the next couple of months, I might not be able to resist finally doing it.”

“Although not as jewel colored, it’s way more calm than the Caribbean Sea. I love the Pacific,” she said.

“Especially if you’re in the passenger’s seat,” he said, breathing into her hair.

“I don’t want to insert myself in your dream,” she said.

“Dreams aren’t worth dreaming without you in them,” he said.

“Aww,” she said. “Now you’ve done it.” She burst into tears.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, but a tear slid down his right cheek. “You’ve got me started too.”

They held each other and sobbed for a solid three minutes.

“Okay, okay, we can’t do this all night,” she said, and sniffed. “Say something happy.”

“I love you,” he said.

She wiped his cheeks and kissed his lips lightly. “I love you too.”

He squeezed her so hard her ribs creaked.

“You know what you said a few nights ago, about not be afraid to share our hearts?” he said. He hiccuped.

“The reprieve,” she said.

“You said we can speak our hearts unafraid for one night. Can we do that … permanently?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. He laced his fingers in hers.

“Okay. I want to build you a house,” he said. “A big, fine one. With a big veranda, and gingerbread detailing. Oh, and stained glass over the door.”

She kissed his cheek. “What’s gingerbread detailing?”

“It’s a type of architectural style with really fanciful, artistic latticework.”

“So it’s like the love spoon, but we can live in it?” she said.

“More or less,” he said.  “I’ll build my shop near it, so I’ll never be far,” he said. “It will be  the most magnificent house in the area.”

“Now you sound proud,” she said, giggling.

“Only the best for you,” he said.

“And how many rooms will it have?” she said.

“Enough,” he said. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” She poked his side.

“Just in case,” he repeated, and shrugged.

“I have a feeling you’re not talking about extra storage for all my shoes,” she said with a smile.

“No,” he said.

“I’ll carve our initials in every plank and fitting, too. For positive vibes,” he said. She sat up and caressed him.

“We can live in a shithole apartment in Brooklyn and it would be the best place ever,  you know that? Just as long as we’re together.”

He kissed her hand, and got back to imagining. “Nope. No more shitholes. No more irritating intellectuals and tourists. And there will be water nearby - a river, or maybe even the ocean.”

“But isn’t water bad for wood?” she said.

“I’ll figure something out. Maybe use more stone.” She could tell he was really thinking things through. And it filled her with joy.

“And what about the master bedroom?” she said, caressing up his thigh. When she got to the top, she squeezed.

“It will be cozy.” She unbuttoned his jeans and reached inside. “What about our quality time?” he said, but he shifted toward her.

“I can attest to the fact that this kind of time is of the finest quality,” she said, and moaned in his ear as she wrapped her hand around him. “And you mentioned something earlier about tilling your garden however you choose...”She got on top of him.

“I did say that,” he said. “But there’s one little problem.”

“What’s that?” she said into his neck between kisses.

“A noise problem,” he said. He put his hand in her pants and curled two fingers inside her. She let out a long, deep groan. She chuckled. “Told you.”

She stood up quickly. “Let’s go inside.”

He sucked his fingers. “As you wish,” he said with a smile.

She got up before dawn without her alarm. He slept deeply in her arms, so she untangled herself and tiptoed into the bathroom.

As she showered, she washed her hair with his shampoo. It wasn’t much, but her hair would smell like him for the next couple of days. The sun came up through the window. She felt both light and heavy. She rubbed soap on her inner thighs, and sighed at the ache. Despite what happened, she needed to focus on her art. It was going to be a long, long three months. She dried herself and went back into the bedroom, where he waited.

She dropped her towel and crawled into bed with him. They pressed their foreheads together and breathed together until the worst of the pain passed.

“I can’t help thinking…” he said. His voice was still rough with sleep.

“Hmmm?” she said, kissing up his shoulder.

“Of that wet towel on the floor,” he said with a chuckle. She groaned and rolled out of bed. “Wait, I was joking,” he said, trying to pull her back.

“No, you weren’t,” she said. “I was a bit spoiled growing up. Clean and tidy isn’t my forte.” She hung the towel on a peg. “My ex spoiled me as well. I didn’t really have to do much. She took care of the house stuff.”

He pooched his lips out.

“I sense disapproval,” she said as she dressed.

“If my ma sees dirty dishes and dust when she visits, she’ll swoon,” he said.

“But that just means the house is lived in.” She turned her back to hide her mirth. He looked genuinely at a loss for works. She burst into laughter and dove in bed. “I can see that being clean and tidy is important to you. I’ll be more mindful, but I can’t go from zero to Mary Poppins in three months.”

“You make it sound like I’ll be doing a white glove test every day,” he said. “If we’re both busy, we can get someone in.” He made a funny face as he said it that tickled her.

“Your Scottish sensibilities would love that,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Dios mio, to actually say those words - you really are into me.”

“Told you,” he said, and hugged her tight.

“The cab to the airport gets here in an hour and a half – I have to go back to Olivia’s for my things,” she said.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. He jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and tried not to think of it, but he got sicker with every second. She was something special. Monumental. But she was leaving. So much could happen in the interim.

He bent over the sink and let the water drip off his face.

Now that she was in his bed, he wanted no one else to share it. Now that they kissed, he wanted no other brand. A ghost pain radiated from his spine, and his facial muscles twitched. He knew that weeping would not keep her there, but his body curled with the desire to do it. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but he wanted to call his ma and cry to her like he hadn’t when Mara left. Not out of sadness, but happiness and impatience.

He decided he would go to Scotland to see her. Soon. Today. He needed to tell her everything, and have her help him unpack everything with her usual honesty and grace. After deciding that, he didn’t feel so weak, and he combed his hair and met her in the kitchen, where she combed her damp hair standing in front of the window. The sun gilded her wavy chestnut hair, and she hummed something unfamiliar.

“You took long enough,” she said, turning and smiling. He whimpered and hugged her from the back, pressing his lips against the warm apple of her cheek. She put her hands over his. “I’m not complaining. You look fantastic.”

“So do you,” he said. He pulled out his phone out. “Let’s do a selfie.”

“You and your selfies,” she said, but she posed as he help the phone in front of them.

“I’d photograph you every day if I could,” he said. “Smile.” He hugged her tight, and she beamed. The phone clicked.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said. He pulled her close and kissed her. The phone clicked.

“Perfect,” he said. “That’s the screen saver.”

“You’re such a nerd,” she said.

“I never promised anything different,” he said with a wink. “I’ll text it to you.” She snorted. He nuzzled her. “You know you want it. My face makes your heart happy.”

“Yes,” she said. “Come on. It’s almost time.” She walked out the door, but he wasn’t behind her. She double back. “What you doing?” she yelled.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right there,” he responded from the top of the stairs.

When she knocked on Connie’s door, she was already having breakfast with Monty.

“How are you doing, sweetie?” Connie said, and hugged her.

“Okay. We’re packed and ready to go,” she said. “Mother’s expecting me this afternoon.”

She walked to the living room for her things. “Did, uh, Alex call you?” Connie said.

“No. And I don’t expect it,” Liv said. Connie gave her another squeeze, then started gathering her things and throwing them in the suitcase. Liv rolled her eyes.

“If you fold things, you can fit a lot more in there,” she said. She reached out to help her, but Connie slapped her hand.

“Leave it. I have a system,” she said. She bunched a shirt into a ball and stuffed it into a corner. The only thing that was neatly folded and wrapped in tissue at the bottom was the dress John gifted her.

John walked in holding Monty. “Good morning, Liv. Ready to go to grandmum’s?” he said to Monty.

“Jun!” he said, and nodded.

“I’m going to miss you, honey,” he said to the boy, and tickled his belly.

“You’ll be around soon, right?” Olivia said.

“I promise. But I’m going to Scotland for a bit,” he said, and put Monty down to scrutinize Connie’s suitcase.

“Oh God, not you too,” she said, waving him away. “Like I told Connie, I’ve got a system.” She stuffed her jewelry bag in the mesh on the suitcase flap.

“Sure. Systemized chaos,” he said.

Olivia laughed. “That’s what her father always says,” she said.

“Ha ha and hee hee. Have a laugh,” she said, making a face. John plucked the jewelry bag from the suitcase.

“This should be in a secure carry-on – something you have with you at all times,” he said.

“All I’ve got is this suitcase, and my bag.” She held up a large, expensive looking leather satchel. “Your love spoon’s in here as well.”

“That will do,” he said, and put it inside. “Liv’s pearls are in there. You don’t want some greedy airport security guard taking those.”

“I’m gonna go make myself decent for international travel,” Connie said, and went to the bathroom upstairs with a toilette bag.

Liv struggled to put shoes on the baby – he hated them, but his grandmother didn’t think it proper for the boy to be barefoot all the time.

“Has he done any more walking?” John said, sitting down.

“Yeah, a little this morning. Mother’s going to be so pleased,” she said. “When are you going to Scotland?”

“This afternoon. After you go, I’m packing up and going to my ma’s,” he said. “It’s been too long.” He had not seen her since before the divorce.

“Getting away will be nice.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t.

He gave her a quick hug. “You will get through this,” he said. “If my goofy arse can, you absolutely will.”

“I think …” she started, but she shook her head.

“You think what?”

“I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore either,” she said. “I think I’m done with that.”

“You don’t want to practice law?” Connie said. Her hair was slicked back in a trendy high bun, and her skin glowed with extra moisturizer. Airplane air was horribly dry.

Liv shrugged. “If I’m going to really try for happiness, I think it’s a place to start. You were right, Connie. I never wanted to be a lawyer. I was miserable, and there’s no reason for it. I’m starting over … completely.”

Connie hugged her tight. “Wow. This is huge,” she said. “What are you going to do? You can’t go to an ashram with Monty.”

Liv chuckled. “No ashrams. I have some thoughts of where to start, though.”

“The old folks?” John said.

“Something along that vein,” Olivia said. “I want to actually help people.”

“I wish you luck telling that to your parents,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll need it. But I’m determined.”

“Good,” Connie said. “You think there’s time for something to-” Her phone buzzed, and there was a honk from outside.

“Cab’s here,” Liv said.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Connie said. She grabbed her bag and pulled her suitcase off the sofa. “I love you all. So much,” she said. Then, she dropped everything and hugged both John and Olivia close. They squeezed together, with Monty in the middle.

“Text me when you get home,” Liv said into her shoulder.

“Yeah. Call me. Just as soon as you get out of the plane,” John said. He was trying valiantly not to start weeping. “I don’t care what time it is.”

“Of course. To both of you,” she said. There was a more insistent honk.

They were about to break when John pulled out his phone again.

“Selfie?” Connie said with a smile. Her throat burned with tears.

“Yeah. With all of us,” he said. He held the phone high. “To blessed change, and new beginnings. Say cheese!’”

“Cheese!” Even Monty smiled up at the camera.

The cab driver leaned on the horn.

John and Connie hugged again.

“I’ll call you just as soon as the wheels hit the runway at Kennedy,” Connie said, wiping away tears. “I promise.”

“Keep trying if I don’t answer – sometimes reception is spotty on a train,” he said. He couldn’t let go of her.

“Right. You’re going to your mother’s. Tell her hello for me,” she said, extricating herself from his arms. He still held her hand as they walked to the pavement. The cab driver was poker faced. After all, it was her who would miss her plane if she kept messing about.

Olivia walked to the curb and waved Monty’s little hand. “Bye aunt Connie! See you soon!”

She shoved her suitcase in the cab, then threw her bag on the seat.  

John kissed her hand, then let go. “Until later,” he said.

It was not a goodbye. She would do everything in her power to see him again, as soon as possible. She got into the cab, and he closed the door.

“Ready to go, miss? The man said in a heavy Northern accent.

John waved and blew her a kiss. She returned it. “Yes, please.”

The man put the cab into gear and pulled away from the curb. She closed her eyes and tried her best not to burst into tears when she heard a shout. He looked in his rearview, and John was jogging alongside the cab. He pounded on the window.

“Wait!

The man slowed to a stop, and Connie spilled out into the middle of the street.

He panted.”I forgot. I have one last gift. The cab came sooner than I expected.” He reached around his neck and pulled off the jet rosary.

Connie’s lips parted. “But … this is your grandmother’s. Her engagement gift,” she said. He opened her hand, put the necklace in it, then closed her fingers around it.

“You said we should always be completely honest,” he said. She nodded and bit her lip. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “You actually see me. I noticed from the first time you looked at me. After a lifetime of feeling nearly invisible, it’s the most glorious feeling on Earth to be loved by a woman as extraordinary as you. And I want nothing more than to show you how much I adore you for that. Will you keep it for me?”

The cab driver watched everything from the rear view. He’d been a hack for almost 20 years, and he had seen all sorts of drama – people making up and breaking up and running away from their lives in a thousand different ways. He thought he was impervious to it all. But this couple was different.

They reminded him of the romantic films he saw in secret when he was young. It was Bogart and Bergman, but he had a gut feeling this would be happy ending. He saw it in their eyes. She was leaving, but she wasn’t running. He couldn’t wait to tell his old lady when he got home. After a long day of sewing and current world events, she could use a little sunshine.

She put it around her own neck and tucked it underneath her blouse, next to her skin.

“I will,” she said. “I’ll never take it off.”

“Then say a little prayer for us too,” he said. He took her in her arms and gave her one last kiss then lingered, sipping on her breath. “Soon, we’ll be whizzing down the PCH. Wind in our hair. Ariana on the radio.”

She giggled and hiccuped. “Yes. Soon.”

“Before you know it,” he said, and walked her back to the cab. “You’ve made me a very happy man. Thank you.”

“Thank you, for loving me into a new life,” she said. “I don’t want to imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t impulsively decided to visit Livvie between jobs.”

“Me neither,” he said, making a face. “But we don’t have to, right?”

“No,” she said. She got into the cab. The driver waited, rapt. “I love you, John William Helm.”

“I love you, white dove,” he said with a smile.

“Are you ready to go, miss?” the cab driver said again.

“No,” she said. He hit the gas and drove away slowly. She waved until they turned the corner.

Her phone buzzed. It was a 5 second video of him blowing a kiss. She burst into tears.

Olivia and Monty walked slowly back to the house. John stood on the curb, looking in the direction where she’d driven away.

“Alright, darling. We’re off too,” she said to the baby. She went into the kitchen and double checked to make sure there were no perishables left in the fridge or on the counters. She looked around at the colorful pans, and the paisley curtains.

She was leaving the nest.

She wondered how Alex was doing, and whether she was at her mother’s. Regardless of where she was, she knew she could take care of herself. Eventually, they would have to speak for one last time to make the final break, but she was in no hurry. Alex would find her when she was ready.

John walked in and let out a dramatic sigh. “I love her, Olivia. Truly.”

“I believe you do,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Will you help me with the last of it?” She nodded at a rollie suitcase and some miscellaneous toys that Monty loved. He grabbed as much as he could and followed her to the car. After he loaded everything, she locked the door behind her, and handed him the keys. “Just in case.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to miss you being my neighbor.”

“We’ll still be around. Monty has a lot of milestones to go.”

He laughed. “I love you both. Text me when you get to your ma’s safely. Tell ‘em I’ll be round soon enough.”

“They’ll love it,” she said as she slid into the driver’s seat. They did not have the highest opinion of John after everything that happened. But their budding friendship was just one more new thing they’d have to deal with from her. He peeked into the car and waved at Monty. He wriggled in his car seat and waved back joyfully.

“Bye bye,” he said.

“Bye,” Monty said clearly.

Olivia put her hand over Johns. “Thanks for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “Good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” she said, and pulled out of the driveway.

He watched her go, then walked into his house with a heavy heart. The happy house next door was empty. But his heart - it was full. He went upstairs and pulled his suitcase out from under his bed. He wanted to have a nice, long visit with his ma, so he organized enough clothing for a week. He zipped up his suitcase, then sat down at the bed. He grabbed the pillow she used and breathed deeply. Traces of her perfume and sweat made him smile.

He thought of calling his ma, but she had long retired and didn’t have much else to do but potter in her garden and have a gossip with her long-time next door neighbor. Hopefully, she would be happy to see him.

He couldn’t wait to dig his fingers into that familiar earth, but with a whole new heart.

Four months later

McWay Falls, Big Sur, California, USA

Janice teetered way too close to the edge of the cliff to get a better look at the falls.

“Mother Mary!” he yelled, and ran to her. “Wanna get yerself kilt?” John said is the heavy Scottish brogue he used with his mother. The tails of his morning suit flapped against his thighs. It was a beautiful morning, but the wind was up. The Pacific Ocean churned 100 feet below.

“But look at it! It’s dropping into the wee beach, and right into the sea,” she said, pointing. The wind threatened to carry away her complex flowered church hat. The woman’s brown hair was streaked with a silver she refused to dye away, and her eyes twinkled excitedly in the same warm shade of brown as John’s. “I never thought I’d see the Pacific. What fun!”

Alex walked to them in a shocking pink suit. Her hair was back to being colored. For the wedding, it was a pale lavender.

“Like, I know, right? Me and Alfie hiked all the way down to the beach yesterday. My legs are burnin’, but it was worth it. Water’s not as inviting as it looks.” She hugged herself. When she stood by John, the color scheme he chose for his party was evident – he wore gray with a pink trim, and she wore pink with a gray trim.

“So, explain me again. How does it go that this young lady is, in fact, your best man?” She smiled kindly at Alex. Alex dared to put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“Yeah. How’d it happen, bruv?”

“I figure that a groom’s best man has to be his brother, or his absolute best mate. I don’t have a brother, and Alex is my best mate. It was an easy choice.”

She nodded, then held her hat close to her head as another gust buffeted them.

“I’m glad the reception’s in a place with a roof, and walls. This wind would blow the cake right out of my mouth,” she said. “Not it it would be the worst thing to happen.”

“Nonsense, Mrs. Helm! You look beautiful. I can tell which side of the family John gets his good looks,” Alex said, walking her further from the cliff.

“Away, girl! You dinnae need to fib,” she said, but she flushed with pleasure.

She looked over her shoulder and winked at John. He gave her a broad smile and walked back to the pavilion to wait for his bride.

Olivia and Maude flitted around her like fireflies, smoothing and tugging at small details.

Connie pulled at her long, hand-embroidered veil. “I think it’s too much for all this wind, but it’s so beautiful,” she said, running her fingers along the silky, sheer fabric and fingered the tiny opalescent beads sewn into the edges in a lacy pattern. With the traffic, it had a been a longer ride than expected to the airport, so she had time to tell the cab driver her story. She wasn’t usually one to bend the ear of a hack, but his face had been so bright and kind. She was so nervous and sad that she couldn’t help it.

When they arrived at the airport, he told her he’d seen thousands of men’s faces, and John’s face was easy to read. He loved her, and although she left, he would be soon to follow. As an afterthought, she gave him her website information since he was curious about her work.

When she’d announced her formal engagement, he’d gotten in contact, and said his wife, a master tailor, would like to make something for them both.

She thought it might be a pair of gloves, or just the veil. After John and Connie saw her portfolio, the whole wedding party wore her and her assistant’s creations.

“You look like a page ripped out of a victorian wedding magazine,” Maude said, and blushed. Olivia squeezed her hand, and Maude bent to give her a kiss. Olivia met Maude in the most improbable way – she helped her change her tire when it blew on the way to her parent’s house. Maude was straightforward, and kind, but also one of the best contractors in Bristol. She stood a full head shorter than Olivia, had a glossy cap of brown hair, and eyes so green it made her crave lime.

Connie’s heart was full. Olivia was happy. Alex was in art school, and happy. And she was getting married to the best human on Earth. Olivia adjusted her veil one last time and looked at her from over her shoulder.

“You ready to take the plunge?”

“Are they going to run into the ocean when they finish their vows?” Connie’s father said from the corner.

“Ha ha and heehee, papa,” she said, but she was smiling.

“I had a swim this morning. Brrr. The air is warm, but that water will put hair on your chest,” he said, standing and adjusting his suit. He wore the gray, but drew the line at the pink trim. It was too evocative for his personal taste.

“So many brides say they’re scared, but I’m not the least bit afraid. Is that crazy?” Connie said. She held a large bouquet of bright pink, purple, and white flowers.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not married. Yet,” Olivia said pointedly. Maude put her arm around her and beamed. The tent trembled over their heads with a stiff breeze. “Whose idea again was it to marry here instead of a nice church, or one of the many stately homes down this coast?”

“John. We stopped her on our trip, and he was instantly smitten. I was almost jealous.”

“It’s a nice place. But why get married here?” Olivia said, pointing down. “There are some nice places just down the road.”

Connie chuckled. “John has a thing for water. When he suggested we marry outside, I couldn’t refuse him. I honestly don’t care where we marry anyway. Just as long as we do.”

“Silly, lovely man,” Olivia said, shaking her head.

“I have to say, the view’s way better than a church,” Maude said. “I wish you two the best.”

“Thank you,” Connie said, and gave her a hug.

“We’re going to the pavilion, darling. See you there.” She blew her a kiss, and her and Maude left, holding hands.

“You look beautiful,” her father said in Spanish. “My kind-hearted, sweet little girl.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’ll cry,” she said. He walked up to her. In her heels, she was just taller than him, since she’d inherited her height from her mother’s side of the family. He held her hand.

“I was very surprised when you told me about John,” he said carefully. “But I could hear such love in your voice. It’s a father’s dream, and his nightmare, because if the object of your affection proves untrue…”

“But that didn’t happen,” she said quickly.

“No, it did not. “I admire John. He sought me out, without fear, and spoke to me like a man about his intentions. I appreciated it, and best of all, I heard the love in his voice as well.”

“He only told me about that after the fact. When I said yes,” she said, looking at her engagement ring. It sparkled in canary yellow and white diamonds.

“He’s a smart man. He knew to consult me beforehand,’ he said.

“I love and respect you, but I don’t think I would’ve cared if you approved or not,” she said, pouting dramatically.

“That’s my fire-headed daughter,” he said, and laughed. “Stubborn, but about all the right things.” He referred to defying his wishes for her to be a lab rat, and not an artist. “You’ve made me very proud, little one.”

She hugged him tight. “I love you, daddy,” she said in Spanish.

Olivia came back. “It’s time.”

She looked at her father. “He’s waiting. Take me to my husband.”

Next Chapter

[stvrmwitch]

50 Bookish Questions Tag!

Thanks to @enogreads for tagging me :)

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time?

All-time favorites are always a stretch for me because the books that matter most to me shift based on what I need at the time, but The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and We Are Okay are books that make me feel at home. And the child in me is saying, “don’t forget to mention the Wayside School books!” so you know, those too.

2. What is the longest book you have ever read? How many pages?

Maybe Deathly Hallows? gr says it’s 784 pages.

3. What is the oldest book you have ever read? (Based on its written date)

I don’t have a lot of interest in old books, but probably Gulliver’s Travels.

4. What is a book series that everyone else loves but you do not?

Divergent. Though my main frustrations are with the writing not the story I guess. Other than that I never caught onto the Percy Jackson train. Don’t hate it, just don’t love it. 

5. What book or book series would you like to see turned into a film/ TV series?

Ah yes. So many. Screenwriting is not something I’m pursuing but it’s a hobby, and everything I read gets the “could this be adapted” thought process. The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet would make a perfect limited miniseries, but could also be serialized based on the concept. Beauty Queens would be great as anything from a musical to a tv show to a movie to a comic book tbh. Ramona Blue has a “shot over a long weekend with unknowns and maybe one biggER name star who’s also producing” indie vibe. Ditto for We Are Okay. The Song of Achilles should be a miniseries as well; one of those massive budget, A-list cast, premium cable shows. I could go on, but I’ll spare you.

6. What is your favourite stand-alone book?

Ari + Dante

7. What is a book that you feel glad for not reading?

None I can think of. 

8. What is a book that you feel guilty for not reading?

I feel somewhat guilty for not finishing The Dark Wife because it feels like I’m not showing wlw solidarity, but as much as I go hard for the concept, the execution was so disappointing to me.

9. What is a book you have read that is set in your country of birth?

Fun Home

10. What is a book that you own more than one copy of?

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone is the only one except for plays. Like I have Shakespeare anthologies plus some individual plays. And I have the off-Broadway and Broadway copies of Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

11. What horror book made you really scared?

I don’t read horror!

12. What book do you passionately hate?

Ok so I’m like passionately not impressed by this book that I’m also lowkey obsessed with. It’s not good. Elements are but overall I don’t like it. but I’m just so intrigued that I’ve read it multiple times and made a million notes. It’s Fated by S.G. Browne. Every time I hope it will be less not good and it never happens.

13. What is the biggest book series you have read? How many books are in it?

There’s no way it’s not Harry Potter.

14. What book gives you happy memories?

On the Banks of Plum Creek 

15. What book made you cry?

Y’all I cry so easily. The Song of Achilles tho...... sobbed.

16. What book made you laugh?

When Dimple Met Rishi is really sweet and pure and I’ve literally lol’d a few times.

17. What is your favourite book that contains an LGBTQ+ character?

Ramona Blue, currently. I’m also a big fan of The Sidhe.

18. Have you read a book with a male protagonist? What is it?

Lmao aren’t they all... um yeah idk I just looked over at my bookshelf and one of my new faves is Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor.

19. Have you read a book set on another planet? What is it?

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs. (The Barsoom tales were, like, a thing for me after I was assigned that one in college.)

20. Have you ever been glad to not finish a series? Which?

Not really? I’m kinda keeping The Last Star at arm’s length because The 5th Wave was such a terrible movie and made my excitement for the series disappear. But I’m also trying to get over that because one shouldn’t necessarily impact enjoyment of the other.

21. Have you ever read a book series because you were pressured?

Probably the Hunger Games. I really wanted to get them read before the movie came out and I couldn’t avoid spoilers. Plus my college roommate was reading them at the same time so it was a good time to squee together. So pressured, but not in a bad way.

22. What famous author have you not read any books by?

Douglas Adams. Hitchhiker’s Guide has long been on my tbr but I’ve been itching to read it lately. 

23. Who is your favourite author of all time?

Oscar Wilde.

24. How many bookshelves do you own?

Just bought two last week, so now I have six.

25. How many books do you own?

dont make me admit that. More than I’ve ever properly budgeted for, let’s say that.

26. What is your favourite non-fiction book?

Save the Cat! My interest in screenwriting led me to it, but it’s a really useful tool for novelists as well and anybody telling stories.

27. What is your favourite children’s/middle-grade book?

Hmmm... The Little Prince perhaps.

28. What is your next book on your TBR?

My library hold for Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari just came through this morning, so I’m going to get to that when I finish When Dimple Met Rishi.

29. What book are you currently reading?

When Dimple Met Rishi. So good. So sweet. And it features a girl in STEM wow amazing five stars for that.

30. What book are you planning on buying next?

Noooooooo. I just spent so much last week, and now that I’m apartment hunting, no more books. Tragic.

31. What was the cheapest book you bought?

There’s a great used bookstore in Boston with an outdoor bargain area and I think I’ve picked up stuff for $3 and under.

32. What was the most expensive book you bought?

Alright. Y’all already might’ve peeped me revealing that back in the day I was superwholock garbage. WEll. I have this “The Essential Supernatural: On the Road with Sam and Dean Winchester” donkey ass book that is $50 and I probably got a little discount but still paid really close to that amount.

33. What is a book you read after seeing the movie/ TV series?

Big Fish. I’m genuinely astounded that that movie came from that book. Like, the leaps from page to screen y’all. 

34. What is the newest book you have bought?

these are all the books I bought at B&N last week

35. What three books are you most looking forward to reading this year?

Radio Silence, The Strange Case of the Alchemist’s Daughter, and The Princess Diarist.

36. What is a book you love that has a terrible trope? (Love triangle, etc)

Ugh this is such a good question and here I am drawing a total blank.

37. Have you read a book in a different language? What was it?

Only some basic Spanish books when I took classes in middle and high school. Though my niece is in a bilingual program and brings home a lot of books with English and Spanish versions.

38. What is a book you’ve read that is set in a time period before you were born?

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen 

39. What book offended you?

WE ARE OKAY. ARE WE, NINA? ARE WE OKAY? nOPE

‘kay but I genuinely was offended because Dunkin’ Donuts coffee is compared to diner coffee and legit like.... no???????? Dunks never did nothin’ to you and ur rly gonna come for it like that??? ok, Nina. ur wrong, but ok.

40. What is the weirdest book you have read?

Uhhh. Yet again, she draws a blank!

41. What is your favourite duology?

Isn’t Strange the Dreamer meant to be a duology? The second book’s not even out and that’s my favorite.

42. What is your favourite trilogy?

Answering this question, I’m realizing that I haven’t read many trilogies in my life. Definitely The Hunger Games though. I just gorged myself on all three during a weekend-long summer storm.

43. What book did you buy because of its cover?

Wuthering goddamn Heights. I don’t even like that book, but the cover was phenomenal and I was like ok yeah Camille, let’s fkn do it

44. What is a book that you love, but has a terrible cover?

Aww that’s mean. I can’t think of any. I usually go for pretty covers and forget the rest. But I have the edition of Radio Silence with the cover I like less if that counts?

45. Do you own a poetry anthology? What is your favourite poem from it?

I don’t have an appreciation for poetry, sorry! I do own anthologies because I majored in English and had a writing concentration, but that’s literally the only reason I have them: they were assigned. So no favorite.

But since that seems lame and I haven’t been asked about short stories, I have a favorite from the 2013 Pushcart Prize XXXVII: Best of the Small Presses. It’s called “Juniper Beach” by Shannon Cain and it’s so wonderful. Really tight narrative woven together with zero snags along the way.

46. Do you own any colouring books based off other books?

Nope. Really wanted the Fantastic Beasts one but my wallet said ho don’t do it and for once, I listened.

47. Do you own any historical fiction?

I do not own any, but -and this feels totally like someone else’s memories- when I was a teen, I was all over Harlequin historical romance books oh my god.

48. What book made you angry?

See #39. I put that book down for weeks over it and told everyone I knew about the slanderous lies within.

49. What book has inspired you?

Paint It Black and White Oleander both make me want to be that good of a writer. 

50. What book got you into reading?

Honestly my mother got me into reading, not any particular book, though imma single one out in a moment. Like my mom has literally never gone a day that I’ve been alive not spent reading. She got me started at the library young and I read my way through the whole children’s section. The Boxcar Children and the Baby-Sitter’s Club books were a big draw. And the one I’m singling out is On the Banks of Plum Creek which was a library discard. I read and reread that one about a million times. I’d loved books and reading but I’d never feasted on a book before that one. I never read the Little House series, my obsession was limited to that one book.

I’m tagging: @ozzery, @anassarhenisch, @midnightinkspill, @mariedtofiction, @rawr-booklover  @booksandsweettea, and @thewizard-ofbooks

As usual, if you’re tagged please feel no pressure to play! And if you’re not tagged and you wanna play, please go forth and do so!