#but i've made progress today

[dokyeomini]

and im almost done with cleaning i just need to hang the last of the laundry to dry and change the bedsheets

[rotisseries]

everyone who tells you to delete tiktok is right btw

[cinnamon-flame]

Pigeon studies

Okay so long story short, my love for pigeons reignited over the last few days and I drew only pigeons for like a week to the concern of everybody who saw me enter that state of mind.

The first three are drawn based few different pigeon shots I found, the two after that are referenced from my weirdly pixelated vacation pics and the last one is so high quality because my bestie @wilczuuu let me use one of their gorgeous photos for reference.

Also just for fun I filmed the last one as a timelapse to see that that would look like

I struggle a lot with bird anatomy and while these drawing made me get a firmer grip on that, I'm still super confused about that. So if anyone has some experience with drawing birds and would like to share some tips I would be very thankful.

[echo-bleu]

We needed Celebrimbor as Dalamar, to go with Annatar as Raistlin and Finrod as Crysania.

He could also double as book!Dalamar, tbh. But because it's my Celebrimbor design, he's wearing the silver ring splints I've drawn for him before.

for @chthonion and @actual-bill-potts 💙

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Loving Memory: A Retelling of East of the Sun, West of the Moon

The woman striding across the ballroom floor takes my breath away. She is perfection in human form--regal and statuesque, with hair like a raven's wing, skin like a fresh fall of snow, and ice-blue eyes that can captivate a man's heart.

And the gown! It makes her beauty seem almost divine. It shimmers and swirls like rivers of gold, making the icy-white marble of the floor and walls glow with the light of the sun that has not shone here for a month of days. I nearly fall to my knees, but I am a prince--soon to be a king--so I merely bow over her hand, lead her into the dance, and thank heaven for our impending marriage. Jorunn knows I do not love her, but at moments like these, I have no doubt that I shall.

We whirl through the dancers, the lords and ladies assembled for our upcoming wedding, all of them flawless in form, wearing suits and gowns of impossible beauty--a rainbow of velvets and silks, gold and jewels. My betrothed outshines them all. I feel clumsy and common in comparison, and marvel yet again that I am deemed worthy to join--and soon rule--this court.

When the dance ends, I bring Jorunn to the refreshment table, where we take glasses of sweet blue punch.

"You should drink your tonic, darling," Jorunn says, removing a small silver flask from a pocket in her skirt.

"Must I?" I ask, glancing to the watching crowd. I usually take the tonic before bed, in private. I don't relish my future subjects knowing that their king is an invalid.

"You must have your strength tonight," she says, pouring what looks like a double dose into my punch. The icy blue liquid turns a murky amber.

I down the drink in one gulp, cringing as the bitter aroma fills my head. I swear I can feel it coursing through my limbs. They feel heavier than they had a moment before. My head feels murkier.

It passes in a moment, and once again I'm overjoyed to be here, with her, in this impossibly beautiful realm.

I kiss Jorunn's cheek and thank her for her watchfulness. I feel as if I could dance all night.

The music starts up--an enticing melody of flutes and strings--but just as I pull Jorunn into the dance, a commotion starts at the other edge of the crowd. The music stops, and the crowd parts to reveal...something...crossing the floor. Some kind of animal has entered the ballroom--smaller than a bear, larger than a dog, with patches of fur in every shade of white and black and brown.

As it comes nearer, I see that it walks upright on two legs--two human legs, with two small, white human hands poking out from the folds of the fur.

"What is it?" I ask Jorunn. "Who let it into the ballroom?"

"I did," Jorunn says. "She is my invited guest."

I bow my head in embarrassment. "I'm...certain she's quite charming."

Jorunn pushes my shoulder, gently urging me toward the girl. "Dance with her, Eirik."

"I?" I yelp. How could a prince--a future king--demean himself by dancing with such a creature before all his subjects. "Why?"

Jorunn tilts her head toward me and murmurs, "Because I keep my promises. This girl is the one who gifted me this dress, and in return all she asked was a dance with you."

"A strange boon to demand from a woman about to be married," I say. Stranger still that Jorunn granted it.

"We aren't wed yet," Jorunn says playfully. "I can't keep you all to myself, no matter how much I may wish to." She urges me toward the girl. "Go on, my love. It's not too much to ask."

Despite myself, I feel a pang of pity for the creature. She gave away a dress fit for a queen and had to appear in this ballroom in a bundle of furs. Such unselfishness merits a few minutes of kindness. "For your sake, my dear," I say, bowing over Jorunn's hand. "And for hers. I assure you I'll take no joy in it."

Jorunn smiles. "I've no worries on that account."

#

Fighting a feeling of revulsion, I approach the girl, bow, and offer my hand. "Might I have this dance?"

The girl--she barely reaches my shoulder--looks up at me. A white face appears from within the furry hood--a pointed chin, high cheekbones, a determined mouth, and defiant green eyes.

The woman faintly smiles, and my heart stops. In this palace of perfection, she seems so real. Not ice and gold and glamour, but sun and earth and, oh, a million ordinary, beautiful things I haven't thought about since I came to this place.

"Who are you?" I gasp, the words slipping out before I can think.

Her eyes go wide--confused and dismayed. She throws back her hood, revealing yellow hair. Not golden or raven or mahogany or any of the awe-inspiring shades that make the people of this realm so beautiful. Just yellow. But it is braided into a crown about her head that suits her better than any jewels.

Those green eyes meet mine. "You know me," she says.

I stare into those eyes, which seem to hold something I haven't known I've lost. If I know this girl, I can't remember her. My past before this palace is a murky haze--standing in such brightness makes everything else seem dim.

I shake away the threads of memory before I go mad from trying to grasp them. "Forgive me," I say, "but if we've met, I can't recall."

I signal to the musicians to start the music, and I sweep the fur-clad maiden into a waltz. She is silent as we dance, gazing up at my face as if trying to memorize me.

I say, trying to be kind, "That's a wondrous cloak you wear. I've never seen its like."

It's not a lie. It seems to be made of the skin of every beast there ever was. I see white fur, black fur, brown fur, some solid, some speckled, some striped, all stitched together in a haphazard pattern, as though someone was desperate to make use of every scrap.

The woman looks down. "It is all I had left to me, after..."

I kindly wait for her to speak.

"I've had a great loss," she finally says. "I have searched ever since to find you."

"If there is anything I can do for you," I say, "you need only ask. You have done a great service for my bride."

The girl stumbles.

I catch her and help her upright. "I am sorry. Did I trip you?"

"No," she gasps, grasping her side. As we slide into the dance again, she looks up into my face. "Do you truly not know me?"

"I wish I could say otherwise," I say, and I mean it with all my heart. There is something about this girl that makes the world seem larger than I realized. "Perhaps if you told me your name?"

She shakes her head. "I can't. Even if I could, what good would my name do if you've already forgotten my face?" She bows her head with a strangled noise, and I see tears streaming from her eyes. "I spent so many months imagining this moment. I hoped you'd be overjoyed to see me. I was afraid you'd hate me. But I never imagined...this. That I meant so little to you that you've already forgotten me."

"There is much I have forgotten," I say, before I can remember that none are supposed to know of my affliction. "This place, it...dazzles the mind. There are many things I wish I could recall about the world beyond this realm. If I knew you there, I am certain you were well worth remembering, and it pains me to say that I do not. But whatever we had before, I am glad to know you now."

She wipes her face against the fur on her sleeve. When she looks up at me, her eyes hold something like hope. "Do you think--"

The music slows to a stop, and before we can finish the step, Jorunn steps between me and the girl. She places one hand on the girl's chest and pushes her away. "You've had your dance," she says. "Now trouble us no more."

The girl steps away, but she takes a hesitant glance back at me.

I smile gently. "Thank you for the dance. I will remember your face next time."

Those words put a determination into her gaze that seems instantly to dry her tears. "I will see you again," she says and disappears into the crowd.

For the rest of the night, I dance with the queen of the realm at the top of the world, a peerless beauty with the radiance of the sun who lays a kingdom at my feet. But my thoughts are on a girl with green eyes, wearing a coat made of all kinds of fur.

#

At the next night's ball, Jorunn wears a sleek gown that gleams with the silver radiance of the moon. It makes her seem ethereal, a woman of wondrous mystery. But she is not the mystery I find myself pondering.

"You seem distracted tonight, Eirik," she says. "Have you taken your tonic?"

Upon my denial, she pours a dose into my punch glass. After one swallow, my racing thoughts begin to slow. What does that strange girl matter? I can be happy here, with this incomparable queen at my side.

A commotion begins on the other side of the ballroom, and the many-furred girl appears among the crowd. I take a hasty swallow of the tonic, but set down the punch glass while it's still half-full.

I look to Jorunn, whose eyes are narrowed toward the girl. "Another dance in exchange for tonight's dress?" I ask.

"Two," Jorunn says. "She drives a hard bargain."

I squeeze her hand. I know my duty with this marriage. She has no need to be jealous. "I will do what I must," I say. "We must keep our promises."

I smile as I approach the girl. She smiles in response, and it makes her more radiant than Jorunn's dress. Again, I am struck by how real she is, practical and solid in a world of wisps and dreams.

"You returned," I say, as I whisk her into a waltz.

"I said I would," she replies.

"I'm glad to know you keep your promises."

She winces, and tears spring to her eyes.

"Forgive me," I say. "I don't wish to cause pain."

"No," she says, shaking her head and wiping her tears into a furred sleeve. "It is no more than I deserve."

"You have broken promises?" It seems cruel to ask, but I think she might welcome the question. It could shed some light on the past that she wants me to remember.

"Only one," she says. "But it destroyed everything."

I remember what she said about her cloak last night. It was all that was left to me. I have suffered a great loss.

"We all break promises sometimes," I say, trying to soothe her.

"Not like mine," she insists. "I did the one thing I was asked not to do. I betrayed the man I loved, and now he is lost to me."

"And he is why you have sought me out? You think I can convince him to forgive you?"

She looks into my face for a long, long moment, step after step, turn after turn. "I don't think," she says at last, "that he knows there is anything to forgive. And that's the worst thing of all."

How can this man be lost to her if he doesn't know she betrayed him? Has she run from her failure, rather than face disgrace?

I know well the temptation to hide from dishonor. Don't I hide my own affliction? This girl has no kingdom to run, but she still has pride to protect.

"Tell him," I say.

Tears flow freely down her cheeks. "I can't."

"I can help you."

"You can't!" she says, dropping my hand. She buries her face in her sleeve. "I don't know why I came."

I place a hand on her shoulder, and fight the strangest urge to turn it into an embrace. "Forgive me," I say. "You come to me for help, and I only cause you pain."

She wipes her face and swallows down a sob. "It's not your fault," she says. "Here I am, wasting our dance by crying."

The song fades to a close. "I still owe you another." I find myself panicked at the thought she won't take it.

"You do," she says, with a wet little laugh. My heart leaps at the sound of it. "Will you give me a chance to compose myself?"

"Take all the time you need," I say, leading her to a seat by a towering window that looks out upon the vast snow plains and a gorgeous spectacle of northern lights. She sits in the soft wing-backed chair and looks out the window, while I stand behind her leaning over the headrest. Despite knowing Jorunn for months, I have yet to have a moment with her that feels this...comfortable.

In the blue-black night, ribbons of violet, blue and green dance and flicker across the sky. The girl snuggles into her robe and gazes upon them with wonder.

"Have you ever seen such lights?" I ask. No matter how many times I see them, they never lose their appeal.

"Many times," she says. "Perhaps not quite this beautiful. Though they are lovely when seen from outside." She lays her head contentedly on her arm rest, using her furs as a pillow.

Her phrasing surprises me. "Do you often travel at night?"

"Night after night after night," she says. "Day after day after day. I never stopped. I climbed mountains, crossed rivers, rode the backs of all four winds."

"To find me," I say. "To find the man you love."

She startled and sits up, looking me straight in the eye. "Yes," she breathes, quivering with excitement.

"I wish I knew how to help you," I say. "You must love him very much."

Her shoulders sink. She sighs. "More than you may ever know."

"I only pray my wife and I can know such love."

She examines me closely. "You mean the princess. Do you mean to say you don't love her?"

It seems improper to speak of such things, and yet I find myself able to tell this girl things I couldn't tell anyone else. Why should I speak less than the truth? "Ours is a political match," I say. "I find her beautiful. I respect her strength. I appreciate her care for me. Love can come with time."

"What would she need to do to make you love her? What would you want in a wife?"

Someone who can come into a ballroom clad in furs and not feel shame. Someone who knows how to laugh and cry. Someone who loves to watch the northern lights. Someone who travels night and day to apologize to a man she betrayed.

In the end, I choose the diplomatic answer. "I don't know that I can ask for more than what I already have."

#

The girl is quieter during our second dance, carefully content. Her tears are stored away and she will not risk letting them out again.

Now that I'm not distracted by the mystery of her identity, or my lack of memory, or her sorrow over her lost love, I am able to focus on the dance itself, and I find that she is a marvelous dancer. Not so supernaturally graceful as Jorunn, but surprisingly easy to dance with, especially considering that she is wrapped in furs. The woman follows at my every touch, stepping smoothly through turns, patiently waiting if I stumble. I don't stumble often. My limbs feel lighter tonight, my head clearer--strange, given that I've had only half a dose of tonic.

"How did you come to have such wondrous dresses," I ask, "when you have only furs to wear yourself?" The question that had been easy to dismiss last night now seems impossible to ignore.

"You meet lots of strange people when you travel the world," she says with a smile. "They were gifts from some of the most marvelous old women I've ever met. Of course, I've had no occasion to wear them."

"A royal ball is not reason enough?"

"Not if I can't get inside. I'd rather have the dance than the dress."

A dance with me, worth more than a gown of celestial wonders? All for the chance I could help her reconcile with her lost love?

"I am sorry to have been such a disappointment."

"You're not that," she insists. "It's been wonderful just to see you."

"Worth a trip around the world and two wondrous dresses?"

"Not quite," she admits with a smile. "But enough for now. There's still time."

The music slows and falls silent. I bow her out of the dance. "Not for us, I'm afraid. I can give you no more dances."

"Tomorrow, then," she says, smiling over her shoulder as she disappears into the crowd.

Something about her glance--the twist of her hair, the angle of her head--sparks what might be a memory in my mind. Those green eyes flashing. That mouth open in a laugh. White flakes flashing around her as she runs through the snow, while I follow her--strangely--on all fours.

I cannot explain the memory or remember her name. But I do know, whatever her name is, or whatever she was to me, that somewhere in the past, in some way, I have loved her.

#

The next evening, the last night before our wedding, Jorunn wears a deep blue dress that shimmers with the light of the stars themselves. It is breathtakingly beautiful, but coldly, distantly so--like the woman who wears it. She doesn't smile like the girl with the furs. She doesn't converse while we dance--we can't think of anything to speak of. I can think of no part of my heart I could share with her as I did with the girl last night. I wonder how I thought I could ever grow to love her.

Tonight, Jorunn's offer of the tonic seems, not considerate, but overbearing. Last night I had only half a dose, and I felt better than ever. After Jorunn pours a dose into my punch, I barely sip at it, and when her back is turned, I dump the rest into a potted plant. There will be no more dances after our wedding tomorrow. If I'm to help the girl find her lost love, I want my mind to be as clear as possible.

The glance Jorunn gives the strange girl as she enters the dining room is cold enough to freeze. The girl doesn't seem to feel it through her furs. When Jorunn hands me off, her behavior toward the girl is sullen and hostile.

The girl smiles and curtsies. "The dress is stunning on you, majesty."

"It ought to be, for what it cost me." Jorunn starts to stride away, but then turns around and levels a fierce finger toward the girl. "Not a moment past the stroke of midnight."

The girl bows her head. "I know the bargain."

"Until midnight?" I ask, as I lead the girl into a dance.

The girl smiles. "For tonight, at least, I have you all to myself."

We dance a few dances, while the girl asks me on occasion if I remember anything about my life before. I have flashes of images that might be memories, but nothing that will help the girl in her search. After a while, the girl grows warm in her furs, and we leave the ballroom for the cold quiet of the balcony.

Together, we gaze at the stars and across the vast plains of snow. I remember seeing her like this, on a sunlit balcony in a faraway palace. I wanted to kiss her then, but I couldn't. Probably because she loved another. Just as I am promised to another now.

"Please," I ask in a low whisper. "Can't you tell me your name?"

She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. "Please stop asking. If you don't know it on your own, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It is part of the bargain."

Does Jorunn know who this girl is? "The queen isn't here."

The girl squeezes her eyes shut against some memory. "I have seen the consequences of breaking promises to her. I will not risk it again."

It destroyed everything.

"Your lost love?" I ask.

She nods.

How could that great queen separate this woman from the man she so faithfully loves? What role could Jorunn possibly have in this spat between lovers?

We start down a staircase that leads to a stone path through the snow around the palace. The light from the ballroom windows pours out over us, shining on the girl's furs. The cloak I wear is mostly decorative, and I find myself wishing for furs of my own.

I wore a coat of white fur, thicker than thick.

The flash of memory has no bearing on the mystery I'm trying to solve.

I ask the girl, "If Jorunn knows of your lost love, why do you come to me for help? Why do you not ask her?"

"Allowing me to speak to you is all the help she is willing to give."

I do not begin to understand the complicated politics of this realm. When I am king, I will have to learn, but I will rely on Jorunn for a long while.

"After our wedding, perhaps, I can ask her to help..."

"After the wedding, it will be too late!" She storms down the path. "You'll be married to a woman you don't love! She'll have trapped you forever!"

I try to soothe her. "She won't be able to stop me from speaking to you."

She throws her hands in the air. "You don't understand! You'll never understand!" She is sobbing now. "It was hopeless from the beginning! You can't see the truth about her, or me, and I've no way to tell you! I've doomed us all! I don't deserve redemption, or mercy, or even compassion! I'm the faithless wife who threw away love!"

As she speaks the last words, something flies off her hand, flashing golden as it spirals into the snow. The girl flees down the path, silently sobbing.

I dive for the divot in the snow where the item fell. I pull out a small golden ring set with amethysts and emeralds and ice blue diamonds--the northern lights captured in stone. The ring glitters on my palm, round and flawless. I remember its every facet.

By the One who made the sky and stone, I pledge my heart and soul to you.

Clutching the ring, I race after her and call out, "Karina!"

#

I stood outside a cottage, trapped in the form of a white bear. The girl with a crown of yellow hair faced me fearlessly and agreed to be my bride, sliding the golden ring upon her left hand.

#

Short sunlit days on a beautiful tundra. She would ride on my back for hours, laughing for sheer joy as we raced across the snowy fields.

#

For nearly a year, she shared my bed. I was man by night and bear by day. She was forbidden to see my face and did not mind.

#

A year and a day, and the curse would be broken. Eleven months after our wedding, I woke to hot wax dripping on my shirt, from a candle she held over my face.

#

The palace dissolved into dust, and the troll queen arrived to claim her lawful prize. My wife screamed my name as I disappeared into a whirlwind of magic and snow.

#

In the shadows and snowbanks far from the palace, I grip Karina's shoulders and gaze deep into her familiar, beloved face. "Karina," I breathe. "I remember."

"Everything?" she asks, as tears stream down her face.

"Everything," I say, and kiss her senseless.

#

Karina and I sit huddled together beneath her coat of furs. I have told her of my months of imprisonment, of the magical tonic the troll queen forced upon me until I thought myself a willing captive. Karina has told me of the harrowing journey she has taken--the three dresses she received from three magical women, the way she rode the backs of all four winds to find me. If there was ever anything to forgive her for, the devotion she has shown in finding me more than absolves her.

I kiss her again as she finishes her tale, finding joy in finding her so real, in knowing my own mind and knowing her.

My own.

My beloved.

My wife.

It is like falling in love all over again.

"I'm so sorry," Karina says again. "I should never have listened to mother. If I hadn't burned that hateful candle--"

I silence her with another kiss. "If you hadn't betrayed me, I wouldn't have this moment. Meeting my wife all over again." I press her to my heart. "I could have no greater joy."

"But you're getting married tomorrow," Karina says. "By the terms of the curse, you must wed Jorunn."

"Trust me," I say, "and all will be well. So long as you will let me borrow your wedding ring."

#

In the bright light of midday, the ballroom has become a wedding chapel, filled nearly to bursting with lords and ladies and lesser subjects. I now know them for what they are--trolls whose perfect human appearances are nothing but glamours over huge, thick, ugly faces. My would-be wife is ugliest of all, her cruelty coming out upon her in black boils upon her snow-white face and long, pointed nose. The glamour hides her face for now, but it cannot hide the malicious triumph as she gazes upon me--her pet and prize. Her wedding to me will give her dominion over a human realm, and allow her kind to wreak havoc across the world of ordinary men.

She wears the golden sunlight gown, but in daylight, it seems dim and colorless. Even her flawless glamoured face is ugly when I compare her to my ordinary, beloved Karina. My wife is somewhere in the crowd, I know. She has promised to be here, and I trust her to keep her promises.

I do my best to play the magic-addled prince as the highest-ranking of the lords reads aloud their marriage ceremony--endless lists of the glories this alliance will bring to our two realms.

At last, the high lord cries out, merely for form's sake, "Is there any impediment to the marriage between this man and woman?"

"Only one," I shout, stepping away from Jorunn.

Jorunn's expression is black. I can almost see the troll's face beneath the glamour. "Eirik, what is this?"

"Under the laws of troll-kind," I tell the crowd, "Queen Jorunn can wed me if she keeps me here for a year and a day. But there is another law--as would-be husband to the queen, I have a right to set a standard for my bride. If she fails to meet it, all bond between us comes to an end." I stride across the dais to stare into Jorunn's black eyes. "All bonds," I say. "Matrimonial, moral, and magical. Isn't that right?"

Jorunn seems a heartbeat away from tearing out and eating my eyeballs, so I turn to the lord performing the marriage rite. "Isn't that right?"

The troll lord blinks at me. His human form looks like a jittery old man. "That is... technically correct," he says. "But I don't believe this is the right time."

"There is no better time!" I say. "The very last moment when I can see if she is worthy to be my bride."

Jorunn is proud, regal, icy. She steps toward me. "What is your challenge?" she demands. "Make it anything, and I will meet it."

No doubt she thinks she can. I have seen what her magic can do. If I set an enormous challenge--moving a mountain, emptying a sea--she will accomplish it easily. Fortunately, the challenge I plan is impossibly small.

"In the human realm," I say, "we marry under another law--older and more sacred. This marriage rite is bound by the words of a man and woman, and symbolized in the exchange of a pair of rings." I brandish the Karina's ring and hold it high. "By that law, my lawful wife is the one who fits this ring, and I can wed no other."

I search the room for Karina, but I can see her nowhere in the teeming, agitated crowd.

Jorunn stride toward me and snatches the ring from my hand. "Is that all?" she sneers. "Any woman can do that."

Her glamour has fooled even herself. She has forgotten that her hands only appear slender. Trolls can change the forms of others--into a white bear, for instance--even addle the minds of others into believing in changes that aren't real, but their own bodies are impervious to magic. Any alterations to themselves are mere glamours. Beneath her glamoured image, Jorunn's hands are as thick and blocky as any troll's.

Jorunn is unable to slip the ring onto so much as a fingertip.

In rage, she throws the ring onto the floor. It bounces down the stairs and lays flat at their base. "A trick!" she cries. "He has set an unfair challenge! Find me a woman who can fit that ring, or else the challenge is void!"

In the snowy plains outside, I hear the wind building in strength--a whistle, a howl, and at last a roar that bursts open the wide doors of the ballroom. The wind blows the crowd of trolls toward the walls and down to the floor, leaving an open path down which a tiny, yellow-haired girl, clad in a cloak made of every kind of fur, strides fearlessly toward the dais.

I climb down the stairs, pick up the ring, and go down on one knee to offer it to Karina. This time, I can do it with human hands.

"My lady," I say, gazing up into her smiling eyes. "Will you take this ring?"

I slide it upon the fourth finger of her left hand. It fits perfectly.

I kiss her in triumph as Jorunn roars with rage.

Her roar is soon drowned out by the roar of a wind that surrounds me and Karina, lifts us into the air, and carries out the ballroom doors. Soon, we are soaring over snow-covered plains, and before I can fully understand that I am free, the pointed towers of the troll's icy palace have disappeared from sight.

Karina lays on her stomach, the pale blue currents of wind keeping her aloft. She helps me to do the same. While I marvel at this miraculous wind, she is perfectly at ease, and I realize she has done this. My ordinary, unmagical, entirely human wife has saved me.

"Eirik," Karina says, "I would like to introduce you to an old friend of mine."

#

The North Wind takes us far beyond the tundra where I lived with Karina as a white bear, beyond even the cottage where she lived with her parents, and to a castle in a rocky mountain range that I remember from my boyhood. As the wind sets us upright on the ground before the main doors, I laugh for joy.

"Am I...?" I ask, barely able to believe that I'm standing in this place, where I can recognize every rock and flower that emerges from the melting snow of the springtime ground.

The North Wind now looks like a man--huge and old, with an impossibly large beard. "Prince Eirik," he says, "I have brought you and your bride to the lands of your family."

The full understanding of my freedom comes upon me. Not only am reunited with my bride, not only am I free of enchantment, but I am home, able to move about in the ordinary world like any ordinary man. After so many years of magic, I can think of nothing more wondrous.

I sweep Karina up in my arms and point her gaze toward the door. "Come, my love," I say. "I've waited a very long time to take you home."

[robinsceramics]

Here's some of my favorites from this week!

[turtletaubwrites]

I was feeling bad about taking it a bit slow the last couple days. Working on some older wips, and the adhd brain is having trouble focusing since it wants the ✨shiny new things✨

Already felt like I was falling behind/not writing as much as I want to, so I forced myself to look at what I actually did last month.

I wrote and posted 82,685 fucking words in February. Lol, I thought I was slacking 🤦🏼‍♀️ Imposter syndrome is dumb. (also please don't judge yourself against that ridiculous number! I'm still dealing with disability, and have wayyyy too much free time. I have no life atm, I live here now 😅)

I'm not good at resting y'all! It's my birthday this month, I said I was going to rest a little 🙃🙃

Moral of the story; if you're doubting yourself, go tell your brain to shut the fuck up. Bringing yourself the receipts can help sometimes. Also, go relax. PLEASE relax. (pretty please, brain. just try 😭)

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

. genuinely thought the plant story was gonna be all wholesome and sweet so you can imagine the way i kind of LITTERALLY GASPED when i saw the sneak peak ….. not complaining though …….

-gardener anon

Oh it will get spicy! Yes yes yes!

Tho that sneek peek happens to be for a different story! (Still with a plant-like monster tho ;]) But I have the next part of Floral Affections in the works, so it hopefully wont take too long!

Probably should've elaborated on that, sorry for the confusion!

ALSO, things are gonna get a lil spicy in the next part of FA too, dont worry ;))) Their breakfast date is gonna get exciting hehehehehe

[austerulous]

Okay, so this is less a plotting call and more of a general interaction call. Like this to let me know you’re interested in writing, plotting, asks, comfy with me sending you aesthetics that make me think of your muse, etc. All that jazz. ♡

[c4tto626]

ladies and gentlemen, we have lift off (← just decided on a damn title)

[cicadidae-tm9899]

I've binged all of rottmnt in 2 days AGAIN. It's 2 am and i just started the movie and I'm crying already

[smile-files]

staff week at camp has been so lovely! butterflies and ladybugs and old friends and new friends... looking for four-leaf clovers in the grass... helping serve lunches and getting a chocolate bar for a special job well done... old memories held dear and new ones being welcomed in with open arms... oh golly, it's just splendid!! happy day!!! :D

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 9.2k warnings: absent parents, canonical child neglect, descriptions of the effects of uninvolved parenting, brief mentions of food [read on ao3] — [part two]

What was she doing?

Diana had found herself sitting outside the front of Wesker’s house, fingers absent-mindedly curling and uncurling around her steering wheel as she chewed on her lip. She could easily back out of his driveway and head to her apartment like she’d intended to, before he could even realise she had been there, but no – instead, she decided to take him up on his offer for dinner at his house.

It was a foolish thing, really, to be as excited as she was to see him again so soon after they had only just run into one another that afternoon. Or perhaps intrigued was a more fitting word for how curious she was to see what it was he wanted.

She had been cleaning up the lab for the day – much earlier than usual as she itched to head out and look over some files she wasn’t supposed to have access to – when Wesker had rung her out of nowhere, asking if she wished to join him that evening. That silver tongue of his was rather annoying, in all honesty, especially considering how thrilled she’d been at the date she had planned with those reports and a nice bottle of wine.

As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

Diana sighed to herself the moment she opened her car door and stepped out into the night air, feeling the cool breeze biting at her skin. As if the shorter days weren’t enough already, the evenings carried this awfully unpleasant chill that had her cursing her decision to wear a skirt; the sheer nylon covering her legs did little to stave off the cool air as icy needles worked their way through the fabric and pricked at her skin.

The mountains in the distance looked quite beautiful though; a blanket of yellows, reds, and the odd green had been draped over the slope facing the city, as if the forest had been set ablaze, almost. She didn’t really want to think about what would happen if that were to ever occur, not only because it reminded her too much of back home, but because she would feel horrible for the adders she so loved to observe.

And she had made quite a few fond memories on the trails – one, in particular, she still thought of too often for the fact that neither she nor Wesker had brought it up again after such an incident had occurred.

Quickly plucking her handbag from the passenger seat, Diana slung it over her shoulder then shut her car door with a bit too much force, as though that would somehow stop the obnoxious fluttering in her stomach caused by such inane thoughts.

It was simply the result of a few drinks, that’s all.

That was quite a fun little tale she liked to tell herself, considering neither of them had even had a buzz on that night.

Who knew the cold, conceited, and terribly callous Albert Wesker could be so… tender with her? It didn’t matter, she would do best to forget that stupid camping trip had ever happened and just move on.

Leaning down, Diana took one more quick glance at herself in the side-view mirror while she worked on locking her car. She couldn’t tell whether the flush across her cheeks was because of the chilling winds or if her mind was to blame, but it pulled a rather dramatic sigh from her, regardless.

With the click of her lock, she pulled her key from the door and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. That was another thing she was chastising herself for; Diana had forgotten her gloves that morning, even after repeatedly telling herself the whole time she had been getting ready to remember to take them. She could even picture right where they were sitting on the top of her dresser.

Honestly, Diana didn’t know why she suddenly felt this overwhelming need to pick apart every little thing she’d done recently, and tell herself off for it at that. It was just that the last thing she had expected to be doing tonight was standing outside of Wesker’s house when she had far more important things to be doing.

Dinner together was… unwise. A waste of time. And yet, here she was.

The short walk to his door felt impossibly long, and she looked around the front of his house, taking in the exterior of it like she’d done countless times before. There were no houseplants present to give it life, the doormat was plain black rubber, and although there was room on his porch for a bistro set, or perhaps a bench, it was simply barren. He was always more concerned with the necessities, but it would do him some good to at least add something out here, even just to make it unique compared to the other, almost identical houses it sat amongst.

Despite its decorations, or lack thereof, his proud little house always brought her some comfort. Diana wasn’t sure why exactly. Perhaps because there was some charm to it – or something of the like. Her apartment was nice enough, although a bit cramped for her tastes, but to have a home in this area would be much more preferable; the affluent suburbs on the eastside of the city housed the elite, where she belonged, not some drab apartment building at the centre of commotion.

She shouldn’t be entertaining such nonsensical thoughts anyhow, not when she was simply on a job. Still, two years in Raccoon City and she was stuck with that little thing in Uptown when she deserved much better.

It was of little concern, really; hopefully she wouldn’t be here much longer and she could return to the house she’d purchased as a treat to herself following her “divorce” – though that notion only made her chest feel tighter as opposed to the reassurance she was trying to garner.

As soon as Diana rang the doorbell, her hand retreated to the safety of her warm coat just as quickly as it had left it. There was this churning in the pit of her stomach, telling her something was off, different, and yet she wasn’t sure why. It was only dinner, but to be seeing him again so soon truly was a bit peculiar to her; they usually only ran into one another a couple of times a week, if that.

She was overthinking things again.

But it was his fault for complicating matters between them a few months back. Or so she chose to believe, unwilling to take responsibility for her share of the blame. Although, he was the one who decided to say that she belonged to him in the middle of one of their recent trysts, that she was his, and she couldn’t quite let that go.

It didn’t take long before the front door opened and she was met with a rather worn out looking man, the very same one who had managed to distract her from her work. Wesker was missing his signature sunglasses and Diana found that rather curious; they were almost like a permanent fixture on his face, only really coming off when they slept together, but their absence was something she wasn’t really used to day-to-day.

She was certainly not complaining though. There was something about those icy blues of his that never failed to lure her in.

“Diana,” Wesker said in greeting, a slight hint of surprise seeping into his otherwise dry tone, “I did not expect you here so soon.”

After his eyes scanned over her once more, he simply stepped aside in the doorway with one of his hands gesturing for her to come in. Despite how flat his voice sounded compared to how he usually was with her of late, Diana chuckled as she brushed past him, withdrawing her hand from her coat again to reach out and slowly trail her fingertips up his arm as she did so. That earned her a barely noticeable shake of his head.

“Oh, please. I thought you valued punctuality,” she teased as she abandoned his arm and brought her hands in front of herself to rub them together instead, revelling in the warmth his home greeted her with. “Or perhaps I just enjoy irritating you, always being too early.”

Wesker scoffed while turning away from her to close the door, no doubt trying to stop any more of that dreaded breeze from coming in, but the smirk pulling on Diana’s lips vanished in an instant. A sudden wave of disappointment washed over her at the lack of any of his usual retort to her teasing.

Quietly sighing to herself, Diana turned her back on him in kind, directing her attention towards whatever that scent was that wafted into the foyer. She couldn’t quite place what he was in the middle of cooking, but there was most definitely garlic butter involved, and it smelt divine.

However, that diversion didn’t occupy her for long, because Wesker’s rich cologne decided to invade her senses instead, shortly followed by the light press of his body against her own. She almost leaned back to feel him closer, to slot into the space made for her, as his hot breath warmed her ear, but she managed to stop herself at the last minute.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear.” His voice was low and almost a purr, reserved for only her to hear, and Diana would have rolled her eyes if not for the pleasant shiver that ran down her spine.

It wasn’t like she’d changed her attire since he’d seen her a few hours ago, when he had dropped in to her lab after speaking to William, when he had handed her one of those awful coffees from the cafeteria, and when he had asked her how her project was progressing – the project she should still be working on at the minute.

And she had a sneaking suspicion the wind had left her with more stray hairs than she would like, leaving her looking far worse off than she had that afternoon. So, she didn’t see much reason for his flattery, even if it did make her heart speed up a little.

Wesker left a fleeting kiss below her ear then reached around and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more.

He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it.

He had quite a knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

Diana let out a quiet sigh when Wesker stopped them by the dining table and the pressure on the small of her back lessened ever so slightly. She turned in his hold to look up at him, only to find that his eyes were already wandering over her. Those awfully pretty eyes, no longer concealed by his glasses. What she didn’t expect was for him to reach up with his free hand and brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and she cursed the flutter that appeared in her stomach at that.

Wesker cradled her chin and merely looked into her eyes for a moment. How blown her pupils were, accompanied by so much warmth, continued to bring forth conflicting feelings for him; he wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or esteemed by what he could only call adoration on her part. And he was too tired to worry about it tonight.

In an effort to move on from that train of thought, he brushed his thumb over her chin then left a quick peck on her lips. His hand on her back had lingered for a moment too long as he pulled away from her, but he only withdrew to return to his place at the stove, where he’d been busy cooking before she had arrived.

Diana bit down on her lip when she caught the smile that had somehow managed to work its way there while she had been simply watching him. She found that rather pathetic, in all honesty, but he had a way of drawing such treacherous reactions from her.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a quiet huff to herself, she shrugged her handbag off of her shoulder and placed it on one of the seats at the dining table. That’s when Diana finally noticed that there were three sets of cutlery laid out on its surface.

She quickly glanced over at Wesker, but he was entirely focused on the pans in front of him, so she could only stare at the rather odd display instead. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be joining them when he’d called her, and the absence of wine glasses for once was a bit strange. She would have been annoyed at him for whatever this turn of events was if not for how fascinated she was by it all.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs pulled her from her thoughts soon enough. Soft, uneven steps, as though whoever they belonged to was perhaps skipping down. Another odd occurrence, especially considering the only cars out front were hers and Wesker’s.

The cause of said noise bounded into the open dining area with a hurried glance at the front door then abruptly stopped after catching sight of Diana, hesitating to venture any further in the presence of a stranger.

A little girl.

No more than ten years old, if Diana had to guess. She could have sworn she looked familiar, but from where, she couldn’t quite place. It was right there – the nagging feeling that she knew who this was, sitting at the back of her mind, just out of reach. And it was beyond frustrating.

The girl with big blue eyes that matched her school uniform gave Diana an apprehensive, barely-there smile as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Diana’s staring was no doubt making her uncomfortable, the way her eyes kept darting between her and Wesker was proof of that, but she was too busy trying to piece together who she was to even care.

Suddenly, the girl hurried over to Wesker and latched onto his side furthest from Diana. It was as though she was using him as a protective barrier of sorts, and that was more amusing than it should’ve been. However, the sight that followed next took Diana by surprise.

Wesker placed a hand on the top of her head in greeting, and Diana noticed the way he brushed her fringe aside then carefully tucked one of the many stray blonde strands that had come loose from her pigtails behind her ear. A small smile crossed the girl’s face at that, but she still stayed glued to his side, holding onto his shirt even when he returned to stirring the contents of the pan occupying his attention.

That was weird to Diana; she would’ve expected him to be annoyed by this child hanging off of him while he was in the middle of doing something, but then again, she had no idea who this child was exactly.

For a while, the girl only peeked around Wesker every now and again to look at the tall, frightening woman across the room. This stranger was definitely not who she had expected to see when she had rushed down the stairs at the sound of multiple voices, and it left her feeling somewhat deflated, though much more on edge.

When she tightened her hold on Wesker again, the sound of paper crumpling reminded her of the rolled-up drawing in one of her hands, which she’d completely forgotten about amidst her surprise.

“Oh! Here.” She perked up a little as she freed Wesker’s shirt from her grasp to stand back and unroll the piece of paper, then she proudly presented it to him. “It’s you, mommy and daddy!”

Wesker looked down with a raised brow, and Diana could only watch from afar as he seemed to study the child’s drawing. His head tilted to the side and she could’ve sworn she saw the corners of his lips twitch, even if it was only faint.

“Very good,” he said, tone a touch too dry, but the girl beamed at his praise, regardless. Then Wesker leaned down to whisper in her ear, an elusive hint of mischief laced through his voice, “But why is your father so tall?”

The little girl’s brows knit together in confusion as she stared at him for a moment, then she turned the drawing around in her hands to direct the same gaze to it as well. The way her head tilted to the side was much more dramatic than Wesker’s had been, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she inspected her own art, trying to figure out what he meant.

Looking back up at him after no more than a minute, she giggled then blurted out, “You’re the same height, silly!”

Wesker was almost offended by that little remark, but he only huffed out a quiet chuckle and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. There was a much more pressing matter he needed to tend to instead of getting defensive over a child’s drawing that was obviously inaccurate.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes locked on to his guest – his beautiful, brilliant guest, who was now leaning against the kitchen wall with a slight smile on her lips and her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was an odd state of affairs, that was for sure, but he supposed he’d have to make do with the change of plans. The least he could do was introduce the two of them, or Sherry would probably want to rush off and eat her dinner in the spare room he’d put together for her a while back.

“Sherry, this is Diana,” Wesker said while gesturing a hand in the latter’s direction.

Ah, the Birkin girl. That makes sense. The fact that she hadn’t put that together sooner made Diana feel like an absolute moron, especially considering she’d seen that family portrait on Annette’s desk countless times before. It was painstakingly obvious to her now though, the resemblance to William clear as day – with the nervous energy to boot.

Sherry only turned to look over at Diana as well, and the hesitation from earlier took hold of her once more as she was reminded that there was someone unfamiliar in the house. When she didn’t say anything, only keeping her eyes trained on Diana – as though tearing her gaze away would have unforeseen consequences – Wesker sighed.

“Where are your manners, darling?” he asked, trying to prompt her to introduce herself, but that only made her chew on her lip while she nervously played with the corners of her drawing. It took another quick glance from him before Sherry shifted on her feet and nodded, more to herself in encouragement than in response to him.

“I’m…” Her voice was faint, barely even a whisper, so she paused and took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat before trying again. “I’m Sherry, nice to meet you.” A timid smile was offered afterwards until her eyes went comically wide and she hurriedly added, “Ma’am!”

Diana didn’t want to laugh at the poor thing; it was obvious she was unsettled by her presence. Unless she truly was just shy. Knowing who her parents were though, Diana wouldn’t be surprised if Sherry was raised to look at everyone she met with suspicion. A good way to be, in her opinion, and not entirely unwarranted in this case.

It was a bit strange, however, that Diana hoped the girl didn’t know that she worked with her parents. In a manner of speaking, that is. She couldn’t care less about the G-Virus, or Umbrella, but the Hunters were a fun little project she was very glad she had gotten her hands on. Annette and William were… okay, but they were always at the lab, even hours after she left most nights. She’d never really thought about the ramifications that would have for their daughter before, that she was probably left on her own quite often and not given nearly enough attention.

And that pissed her off.

Perhaps she shouldn’t play the “wicked witch” tonight – a nickname William liked to call her when he thought she couldn’t hear him. There was no reason to make the girl more anxious than she already was. Uncrossing her arms, Diana crouched down, not moving any closer towards Sherry but simply showing her that she wasn’t a threat.

Sherry looked up at Wesker and he nodded. “She doesn’t bite.”

The way his eyes locked on to Diana’s once the words left his mouth, a glint present in those otherwise tired blues, made her clench her jaw in an effort to stop how her lips wanted to pull upwards. She would’ve punched him in the shoulder for that if she was standing next to him, but instead, she could only send a glare his way.

That was rewarded with the smug smirk she’d grown quite accustomed to over the past year, and by God, did she want to wipe that off of his face.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, he was.

Wesker only tore his eyes from hers to look down at the stove. With a quiet hum, he turned off the burners and spoke in Sherry’s direction again. “Then wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sherry, unaware of their silent exchange, placed her drawing down on the counter and Wesker glanced at it once more from out of the corner of his eye. It was ridiculous, but that image reminded him of what felt like simpler times – when they had all been much closer; William wasn’t as paranoid back then, though still painfully obsessive, and he wasn’t so… fed up, to put it lightly.

Sighing to himself, he reached up to pull three bowls out of a cabinet, but Sherry was still lingering at his side. It took another small nod of encouragement before she walked closer to where Diana was patiently waiting, the woman’s eerie eyes only wandering over her, but that just made Sherry play with her hands again.

Diana forced out a sweet smile in hopes to ease the girl’s anxiety, trying her best not to scare her anymore than she already had, though she wondered how insincere it must look. Truth is, she was just as uneasy around this child as she was around her.

Then she realised that she hadn’t actually spoken since Sherry had wandered into the kitchen. Not even a word. And that probably wasn’t helping matters much. She had simply been too interested in observing the way Wesker interacted with Sherry that she hadn’t even thought to speak up; it would’ve only disrupted the opportunity she’d been given to see him like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d ever get another chance.

“I’m Diana.” She reluctantly held out her hand as she spoke, trying to subdue any disgust that threatened to seep out onto her features.

Oh, how she wished she was wearing her gloves right about now. Children were such repulsive little things in her eyes, always getting their hands dirty then touching everything they could. The smudging of colours on the side of Sherry’s hand certainly wasn’t doing Diana any favours.

A large grin spread across Sherry’s face and her eyes lit up at finally hearing the imposing figure’s voice. Curiously enough though, she mouthed Diana’s name to herself, like she was sounding it out and noting the slight difference in pronunciation from how both she and Wesker had said it, and Diana was quite surprised the girl had even picked up on that. It wasn’t obvious like a certain other pronunciation – which she despised – but Wesker’s was far more… American.

Sherry reached out and tentatively took hold of Diana’s hand, shaking it softly. All Diana could think of in that moment was how fragile that tiny hand felt in hers, and it was weird. Everything happening tonight was weird. Sherry, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in scanning her face now that she could see her up close.

Realising she was still holding on to Diana’s hand, Sherry quickly let it go and pulled her own away like she’d been burnt all of a sudden. While clasping it with its pair in front of herself, she offered the woman another smile. “You’re really pretty!”

Diana actually let out a genuine little chuckle at that, and she didn’t miss the way Wesker glanced over his shoulder to look at the two of them. “Thank you.”

“Uncle Albert?” Sherry turned her head to look over at him and he only hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t you think she’s really pretty?”

“She is,” Wesker agreed. His voice was softer than it had been all evening, and that, combined with the slight upturn of his lips, made Diana’s heart jump in her chest.

Perhaps she gazed at him for a moment too long, because Sherry curiously looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes. Her lips curled up at the corners then she leaned in closer to Diana, almost as if she wished to tell her a secret.

She made no attempt to lower her voice, however.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

And that was why Diana chose not to converse with children if she could help it.

Her eyes flitted over to Wesker again, and he seemed a touch more tense than before, jaw clenched and shoulders practically drawn up to his ears. Although he busied himself with serving up their dishes, his movements were rigid, and Diana didn’t know what to think of that. She did, however, feel rather proud of herself for being able to get a read on him when most couldn’t.

That was unfortunate for Wesker though, because it gave her an idea. A terrible one, but an idea, nonetheless.

Diana hunched down a little lower and rounded her shoulders to mirror Sherry’s stance, prompting the girl to shuffle a slight bit closer as her grin widened. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Albert that question.”

Sherry turned around swiftly on her heels, facing him with renewed curiosity. Diana shouldn’t have thought the whole ordeal hilarious; she was most certainly not his girlfriend, or perhaps she was blissfully unaware that the situation they had found themselves in definitely made her seem as such, but it was simply fun to push his buttons.

The moment the girl opened her mouth to ask him instead, Wesker cut her off before she could even get a chance. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

The bite to his tone made Sherry freeze on the spot; she was as still as a statue, save for her eyes moving between the two adults to scan over them. Little good that did as she couldn’t quite gauge what was wrong. The air in the room felt much heavier than before, hanging around them like a thick fog. Or more like steam, considering how her cheeks began to burn up from shame.

She had only asked a simple question, she didn’t mean to make him mad.

Sherry nodded, a bit too quickly, then hung her head and hurried out of the room. The sigh that sounded from behind her fell on deaf ears as she was too focused on navigating her way to her room instead of the bathroom, counting her steps as she went.

The moment the girl was out of sight, Diana stood up from her crouched position and took a moment to brush any creases out of her skirt. While readjusting the hem to lay straight right above her knees, her eyes stayed fixed on Wesker – or more accurately, his back, now that he’d turned away from her.

You’re no fun, she thought to herself while her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek for merely a fraction of a second.

She crossed the distance between them to position herself at his side, leaning against the counter on her hip while her eyes wandered over his profile. He wouldn’t even look at her. If she knew he was going to get so sour over a little joke, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“Are you mad at me?” Diana asked while leaning in closer towards him. The way she spoke was in a far more mocking manner than she should have, the pout in her voice entirely to draw a reaction from him.

Wesker sighed once more then finally looked at her. “No.”

That was all he said before he continued to neatly arrange the dirtied pans and utensils he’d used by the sink, so Diana chose not to push what must be a touchy subject for him any further. He sounded exhausted, and that was the second time that night he hadn’t met her teasing, but at least his tone wasn’t harsh like before. His features had even softened ever so slightly when he’d looked at her – though that didn’t last long once he returned to his task.

Seeing him without his sunglasses like this was really something she wasn’t accustomed to; that made her wonder where they could possibly be if not perched atop that sharp nose of his. Their absence provided her with a sort of confronting view. When they’d fallen into bed, or tangled tongues, or even showered together on occasion, she had never really noticed, but now, outside of the heat of the moment and watching him do something so ordinary, she could see that he was wearing himself thin.

The dark circles under his eyes were quite telling of his position, juggling being Umbrella’s Chief of Security with being thrown into an undercover job that held a title of equal responsibility. Whoever thought that was a brilliant idea was clearly deluded, but Diana knew there was no one else more capable for the role.

It wasn’t her place to pass judgement anyhow. She was technically working three jobs, but it wasn’t really the same. The lines blurred more for her. She only had to send reports back to the company as she did her research within Umbrella, not continue to work in a lab with them as well. And her position at the university was merely a front before she’d head underground and take the cable car to the NEST.

Diana pressed her lips together then looked in the direction Sherry had disappeared off to. That was something she was still immensely curious about.

Tilting her head to the side as she let her gaze fall on him once more, she offered Wesker a subtle smile and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “You don’t seem the type to like children.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but she is an exception.”

Wesker said no more than that, clipped and short once again, and not bothering to elaborate any further. But the feeling of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head eventually made him acquiesce with a huff.

“I look after her when her parents are more concerned with their research.”

That harsh bite to his tone was back, and it caught Diana off guard this time. She didn’t realise he held such reservations towards his close friend, though she understood it more than she wished. A child deserves parents who will cherish them – even she could admit that. But she couldn’t tell if the way he spoke was because she had struck a nerve by entertaining Sherry’s questioning, or if the fact that the girl’s parents were so absent in her life actually bothered him. It could have also been that looking after her was taking up his own time when she wasn’t even his responsibility.

Diana reached out and ran her fingertips across his shoulder and towards his jaw. How he held his breath when they travelled up his neck always delighted her, but she only laid her hand flat against the side with her fingers curling around to his nape. After a short moment of her thumb slowly gliding back and forth along his jaw, Wesker leisurely turned his head from where he was still looking down at the sink and met her gaze.

The question in those weary blues drew another smile from Diana, slowly pulling on her lips and near crinkling the corners of her eyes. She lifted her hand and gently hooked her forefinger beneath his chin while pressing her thumb down against it, then she pulled him closer towards herself so she could press a soft kiss to his lips.

It lasted only a second. A brief touch of her lips to his own. But Wesker’s eyes remained closed even once she had withdrawn. His posture was still stiff, muscles pulled taut, and his nostrils flared when he inhaled. The crease between his brows had also deepened due to whatever battle he was fighting up in that head of his, but the last thing Diana wanted tonight was for him to go and believe she was pressuring him into making their “arrangement” more than what it was.

“Relax,” she whispered and he slowly opened his eyes, “I do not care to put a label on whatever this is. I simply enjoy your company.”

Diana was relieved to see the tension in his shoulders and jaw ease up at that, but why the topic was so difficult for him intrigued her. Perhaps his experience with committed relationships was not too dissimilar from her own. Or he truly just wanted something casual with her. Which was fine. And having to confront where they stood with one another was too much of a hassle. She couldn’t agree more.

She let go of his chin to rest her palm on his shoulder. “I only wished to poke fun, but this was… unexpected.”

“It’s fine. It was a joke,” Wesker replied dismissively.

“A joke that made you uncomfortable.” Diana averted her gaze, looking down at her hand instead, where her thumb was brushing along the stitching of his shirt. Then she softly shook her head. “It was in poor taste. We agreed this was… Nevermind. I shouldn’t have overstepped your boundaries like that.”

Wesker’s eyes narrowed as he observed her expression. She didn’t usually apologise for her admittedly endearing behaviour – he gathered that’s what she was trying to do, at least. Besides, if he wasn’t so tightly wound, and hadn’t heard his former partner’s name spoken in passing earlier that week, maybe such a comment wouldn’t have affected him to this extent.

He didn’t need her fretting over something as trivial as this though. It was clearly a slip up on his part, letting a joke like that make him uncomfortable in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Wesker repeated, not as terse as before, yet still more distant than how they had grown to be with one another. “She brought it up and—”

Diana placed her free hand over his clenched fist on the counter; he hadn’t even realised he’d done that. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

That, he was thankful for. She always seemed to know when he wasn’t ready to broach a topic, and she never held that against him. It wasn’t something he was used to; people always liked to pry into his personal matters and press him to open up when he didn’t want to, or when he simply wasn’t ready, but not Diana.

And she could read him so well. William was really the only person besides his sister who could see through him, understand him, and now there was her… Wesker didn’t know what he’d expected asking Diana to join him tonight when he was in a foul mood and she was clearly too busy, but it wasn’t this.

He hadn’t accounted for his whole day to go even further south after lunch either. It was getting harder to think, honestly, and despite being the one to invite her over in the first place, part of him just wanted to go to bed and end the day already.

Wesker reached up and covered the hand still resting on his shoulder with his own, and he gave it a light squeeze. That made warmth bloom from the centre of Diana’s chest, and she didn’t bother suppressing the smile that had managed to sneak its way onto her face. It only deepened when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of it, before he dropped it just as quickly.

He lifted two of the bowls off of the counter and manoeuvred past her towards the dining table, and Diana lightly shook her head, the smile on her lips not wavering in the slightest. Just like that, a moment ended in an instant. So, she picked up the last dish and followed suit, carefully placing it down where she usually sat.

It wasn’t odd for him to do that, especially not of late, when he would give her a peek into how tender he could be before catching himself, but what was unusual to her was how distracted he seemed. Diana had already gathered that he was tired, sure, but the way he glanced down at his watch, prompting a frown to etch into his features, like cracks in porcelain, made her well aware that something was wrong.

With only a curious look cast his way, Wesker revealed his thoughts to her almost instantly. “William was supposed to pick her up over an hour ago.”

Well then… It seemed as though his friend was definitely the cause of his ire. Whether it was because of Sherry’s wellbeing or because he preferred punctuality, it didn’t matter; it was William who had infuriated him, she only twisted the knife. Or so she believed.

“Oh? And here I thought this little dinner with her was all planned,” Diana playfully teased with a soft smirk pulling up the corner of her lips. That was rewarded with a small chuckle from Wesker.

How he had hung his head with a light nod to it as the quiet sound spilled from his lips brought about that revolting flutter in the pit of Diana’s stomach. She hated that feeling, well and truly hated it, yet she took his reaction as a win; all she could hope for was that her presence could ease the worries nagging at his mind tonight, even just a little. An arrogant belief, some might say, but she knew she could offer a bit of humour when she liked someone well enough.

Wesker’s eyes locked on to hers from across the table and it felt as if the world around them had fallen away, like time itself had stopped. For but a moment, it was just the two of them, no one else existed, and neither dared to move.

Things would be so much simpler if she had just kept her resolve a couple of months back and ended whatever this game of theirs was. She wouldn’t have to deal with these ridiculous reactions her body loved to have around him then.

He broke the stillness first, rounding the table to stand at her back, just like he’d done when he had welcomed her inside. Diana steadied herself by holding onto the top of the chair she should’ve just sat down in when they had walked over, but Wesker simply laid a hand on the side of her hip while the other reached up to brush her hair aside. His hot breath warmed her now-exposed neck, and Diana’s breath caught in her throat.

Like always, the press of his lips was so much softer than she had anticipated.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he whispered as he pulled away.

A single chaste kiss, placed right on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Molten sparks danced across every inch of Diana’s skin, and she was glad Wesker didn’t spare her so much as a glance when he walked past her and disappeared up the stairs; she had no doubt her cheeks were flushed pink, and that was embarrassing enough in and of itself.

She slumped down into her chair, rather unceremoniously at that, and let out a heavy sigh. Tonight would have been much better if she had just declined his offer, gone back to her miserable little apartment, and clinked glasses with that annoying robin that liked to sit and peck away at her window every morning.

Yeah, I want to attack my reflection as well, buddy. She’s a right moron.

Diana directed her attention towards the dish in front of her instead, and that didn’t help. Pasta with garlic butter prawns. Or shrimp, as he liked to correct her so often. That explained the mouth-watering scent she’d been enveloped in the moment she had walked in the door – but why did he have to cook one of her favourites tonight, of all nights? He was making it incredibly difficult for her to hate him.

Where was Sherry and her invasive little questions when she needed her?

The girl was taking much too long in washing up, and Diana selfishly wanted her to come back and distract her from the mess of thoughts going on inside her head. There was also the grumbling in her stomach, much more pronounced now that she’d finally got a proper look at what Wesker had cooked.

She didn’t have to wait long; the sound of a door clicking shut followed by two sets of footsteps made her look over towards the stairs. Sherry was skipping down them again, seeming happier than she had been when she’d left the kitchen earlier, and Wesker trailed behind her.

He rubbed at his forehead as he took his time walking down each step. A stark contrast to Sherry, who triumphantly hopped off the last one then dashed over to the dining table to stand at Diana’s side. She turned in her seat to face the girl, who had a large grin stretched across her face, and was immediately met with a drawing being presented to her this time around.

“This is for you!” Sherry proudly announced, holding the drawing out at arm’s length.

Diana felt frozen in place. She didn’t really know what to do in this sort of situation, and it was honestly rather puzzling to her that this little girl was raised – loosely speaking – by parents such as hers. Her cheerful and sweet nature seeped out through the cracks in her timid and distant demeanour, like rays of light shining from beyond the clouds on an overcast day. Why that disturbed her, Diana wasn’t sure. Perhaps because she felt as though this girl’s light may be extinguished given the hand she was dealt, that she would grow up and lose this spark.

Swallowing to rid herself of the horrid feeling sitting at the base of her throat, Diana reached out and carefully took the drawing from Sherry’s hands.

It was cute… That, she couldn’t deny. The image was of herself and Wesker – at least, that’s who she inferred the man with yellow hair and sunglasses was.

Upon further inspection, Diana noticed that the miniature versions of the two of them were holding hands, and that made her lips turn up far too easily. The last thing she would’ve expected a child to pull from her was a genuine smile, and over a drawing, of all things.

Diana looked back up at Sherry, though her fingers still danced over the back of the paper, almost as if she didn’t want to part with it just yet. “Thank you, Sherry.”

“Do you like it?” Sherry bounced on her feet as she spoke, and it hit Diana then.

She was once this little girl… So eager to show off what she was passionate about only for her parents to pay her no mind, to not care, so she would show anyone who took even the slightest interest – anyone who was remotely nice to her.

It damages a child, to have parents who are rarely home, who leave them to their own devices so often, then never show concern for their wellbeing. Her parents were like that: indifferent and absent for long stretches of time. And when they were home, Diana was made to feel like a bother. She hadn’t realised how much that had all affected her until she was in her twenties, when it was too late.

That was something she didn’t think much of anymore. It was easier that way. But for it to crop up tonight, amongst everything else… This visit had truly not panned out the way she had expected.

Diana placed the drawing down on the table and allowed her smile to properly take up residence across her face. It was the least she could do for the little girl. “I do. You are quite the artist.”

Sherry beamed at that before she hurried over to her seat; how her eyes lit up brought Diana a feeling similar to that of when she accomplished something with her work. It wasn’t quite pride, but more gentle and comforting. Fulfilling.

The moment Diana turned back to face Wesker, she was met with his eyes already firmly fixed on her. The unreadable look in them made her narrow her own, trying to prompt some clarification from him, but he only offered her this soft, almost appreciative, smile – as faint as it was.

And she returned the gesture in kind.

Dinner together was uneventful, devoid of their lengthy debates or discussing what had occurred for the both of them since seeing each other last. Diana’s teasing was also completely out of the question due to their little guest, who actually tried to bring up their relationship status out of nowhere once again. That ended in Wesker having to explain to her that not every woman who was in close proximity to him was his girlfriend, and yet Sherry had pressed on.

“But you really like her!”

Diana had tried not to laugh. The last thing she wanted was for Sherry to send him into cardiac arrest over whatever his troubles with relationships were. As harmless an inquiry it was, she understood the weight it could hold.

Wesker, on the other hand, wasn’t so dismissive. He had caught himself almost worrying over this conclusion Sherry had come to – if it actually held weight.

Sure, he enjoyed Diana’s company more than he cared to admit, and he often got too jealous for his own good when others showed an interest in her, but he didn’t consider her his girlfriend. That was such a juvenile term. Had he thought of her as a lover, or partner, from time to time? Unfortunately. But it was quite obvious to him that she preferred their “no strings attached” sort of arrangement.

They did spend an awful lot of time together though.

That didn’t necessarily mean they were together. Absolutely not. She was fascinating is all, and he found her games to be quite fun. Whatever attraction he had to her would fizzle out soon enough, as soon as he got bored – a blatant lie he liked to tell himself, considering how much it had bothered him when he was without her for a month, and the fact that said attraction had been going on for over a year at this point.

They were almost finished with their meals when one of the landlines went off; the shrill ringing made Wesker’s eyes squeeze shut of their own accord, though for merely half a second. He sighed as he stood up to go and answer it, and one of his hands smoothed down Sherry’s hair as he passed by her.

It was late, and the poor girl looked as though she was going to fall asleep right at the table – fork in hand and all. Diana wondered if she had a bedroom in Wesker’s house that she could stay in for the night; she had no doubt Sherry’s parents had stayed at work until dawn on occasion, so surely he had something arranged for her whenever such an incident occurred. At least, she hoped so.

She watched the way Sherry was staring off in the direction Wesker had gone. The side of her hand was resting on the table, fork in a loose grasp between her fingers and merely sitting on the food left in her bowl. Diana slowly reached across the table and gently tapped one of her fingers on the surface beside it a few times to capture her attention.

“Finish up your dinner,” she quietly said, keeping her voice softer for the girl once their eyes had met.

Sherry nodded and looked back down at her food before she began picking at it. The utter dejection in her eyes shouldn’t have made Diana’s heart crack in two. Since when did she care about the feelings of children? The girl’s low spirits could easily be attributed to how tired she was, and what a long day she had been through seeing some strange woman in a space so familiar to her. It certainly wasn’t because of her situation that hit a little too close to home for Diana… That was absurd.

However, Diana did really want to give the girl’s parents an earful the next time she saw them in the lab.

She glanced over to where Sherry had been looking and caught sight of Wesker in the lounge room, pinching the bridge of his nose while he spoke on the phone. She couldn’t make out any of what was being said, he was too far away for that, but he looked even more frustrated than before.

Wesker let out a heavy sigh before he said what was barely even a farewell and hung up. Diana noticed how his jaw clenched for a second, before he shook his head. He made his way back over to the table and Sherry looked up at him expectantly; her eyes were open wide and a hopeful smile was scarcely contained at the corners of her lips.

“Your mother is on her way,” he said, then cocked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go and gather your things?”

Sherry’s brief excitement vanished in an instant then. “Daddy said he’d pick me up.”

The words had barely left her mouth they were so quiet, but Diana could recognise the resignation amongst the hurt. This wasn’t new. It was as if the girl was used to this, like she had accounted for the possibility but had still held onto a small glimmer of hope, and that bothered Diana far too much. She had been trying so hard to convince herself that the situation wasn’t that bad.

“I know, darling.” Wesker placed his hands on her shoulders once she had slipped out of her chair. He slowly rubbed up and down her arms for a moment, in some futile attempt to comfort her, before he guided her towards the stairs. “Go on.”

The two of them watched Sherry drag herself out of the room, making no attempt to properly lift her feet as she walked. It made for a dreadful sight, honestly, one Diana wished she hadn’t seen. She waited until Sherry had gone up the stairs, where she was sure the girl was well out of earshot, then she looked up at Wesker.

“Does this happen often?” she asked, keeping her voice relatively low, yet unaware of how much concern was dripping off of her words.

Wesker sighed for another time that night, and slowly nodded as he sat back down across from her. That was all he offered on the matter, simply settling back in his seat instead, and silence washed over them.

It wasn’t awkward per se, things rarely ever were with them, but the whole mood in the house had shifted once more.

Wesker closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on the top of his chair. Diana couldn’t quite discern whether that was from frustration, exhaustion, or if he was possibly in pain, considering how she noticed him wince at the ringing earlier. Perhaps it was a mix of all three. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited her over in the first place, because even if Sherry’s being there hadn’t been planned, his exhaustion seemed to her as the result of a few nights of disturbed sleep, not just one day’s events.

He cleared his throat then looked around the kitchen, his eyes scanning over every surface in sight, as though searching for something. Diana let her own follow the path his took, but nothing seemed out of place to her. The crease between his brows had deepened though, and it almost looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

When it was clear to him that whatever he was looking for was nowhere to be found, Wesker turned his gaze on Diana instead. “Will you stay tonight?”

Diana’s body almost betrayed her in letting a grin slip out onto her lips and make itself known to him; such a question shouldn’t have pulled that sort of response. Instead, she contained that treacherous smile and only sighed with a slight raise of her brows.

“I hadn’t planned to,” she said with a shrug.

She propped her elbow up on the table’s surface and rested her chin on her palm, leaning forward slightly – closer towards him. They only held eye contact with one another, and Diana couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was actually in pain, judging by the tension tugging at every one of his muscles. 

With that, she gave him a glimpse of her thinly veiled smile then added, “And you’re tired.”

Wesker let out a small laugh as merely an exhale while he nodded in an unhurried manner. That was for the best, he supposed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked, really. So, he looked off to the side again and let his eyes scan over the lounge room this time, cursing himself in the process as he tried to retrace the steps he’d taken since that afternoon.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His head snapped to look back at Diana and his eyes were instantly drawn to her own, locking on again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. How gently she had spoken caught Wesker off guard, but the question itself… He chewed on the inside of his cheek then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yes.”

[sudokuplayer]

i'm so angry and heartbroken and i think this is all i will ever be

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

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[10moonymhrivertam]

Hazbin BatB AU Preview

Charlie pushed open the door, smiling at the gentle chime that wound through the shop. It was louder than such a little bell ought to have been able to make, but only if you listened the right way, like her mother had taught her. Looking into one of the dim corners of the shop helped resolve Alastor’s shape out of the shadows, even as he stepped onto the floor-proper of the bookshop.

“Charlie! You little demon. Back so soon?” Charlie could never help the way her smile widened to match Alastor’s grin.

“Morning, Al! Yeah. The chickens were actually fine, but the goats want way more food.” She spread her arms like she was sketching out a rainbow. “We reached a compromise,” she added, reaching down into her bag to present him with the borrowed spellbook. Al gave it a cursory once-over that it seemed to pass – the shadows wrapped around it and ferried it back to one of the half-hidden shelves.

“Last time it took you three days.” Alastor looked at her sideways over his glasses, his grin widening a fraction. “Well done.”

Charlie felt like she was glowing. She beamed back at him.

“Have you got anything new in?” She bounced on her toes. He considered her for several long moments before slipping sideways. She blinked, squinting a little to keep an eye on him.

“Not new, exactly…” He wandered alongside the shelves, running his finger across the spines in his way. After several steps, he stopped, tapping one of them and sliding his finger up to pull it from the shelves. “...I’ve little use for this one,” he announced. He slipped back onto the floor again, holding it out between them. “Go ahead and take it.”

“One-Thousand and One Nights?” Charlie was startled by a smart rap to the top of her head.

“Look,” Alastor instructed. Charlie blinked down at the book, watched the cover waver and melt away.

“Love in All Its Forms.” Charlie wrinkled her nose. “Al, I’m not gonna lie, love spells...kinda have rape-y vibes.” She peeked up at him.

“Well, I’ve memorized the spell for dispelling love.” Alastor’s gaze wandered to the window. Charlie followed his gaze to watch a duck fall out of the sky. She grimaced, hugging the book to her chest. “I’m giving it to you, regardless. May as well see where it takes you, no?”

“...Yeah. Okay.”

“Attagirl!” He cried, clapping her on the back. She summoned another smile, smaller than before. He gave her another once-over. “Would you like a charm for your way home?” He extended a hand. Technically, the answer was yes. Alastor charged pretty steeply for his workings, though, even for her. She’d only brought along enough money to cover the deposit he sometimes charged her for borrowing from the magical library – even that was an indulgence, she was pretty sure, that came out of frequenting the bookstore since she was a kid dangling off her Mom’s hand.

“No, thank you.” She managed to maintain her smile as she pushed his hand back toward him. He hummed, closing his hand. He tilted his head at her.

“Well. Better get along to your father, now.” Her smile widened at the familiar eye roll. “Safe travels, Charlie.”

She waved at him as she departed the store. After a few steps, morbid curiosity drove her to start leafing through the book. She found herself engrossed. The book wasn’t as bad as she’d initially assumed, but it wasn’t super stellar, either – a spell for finding a lost loved one could be great if they were scared of being alone; less great if they were scared of you. That spell Alastor had mentioned, about dispelling love – he was clearly happy knowing it, but Sev was her closest friend, and if she’d used something like this when she was heartbroken, she’d never have known.

This book, like a lot of Alastor’s spellbooks, had notes in the margins. It was in several hands. Charlie imagined it was a student-teacher or parent-child kind of deal, but Alastor had never contributed. For one thing, the first time she’d brought it up to him, he’d complained about it for forty-five minutes, which had been a little hilarious. For another, most of these people wrote in cursive, but Alastor tended to use the same neat print he used for his bookkeeping everywhere. The potion recipe correction that had caught her eye now was done in a flowing cursive. She squinted at it, trying to figure out if it was correcting the measurement or the ingredient itself.

“’Sup, l’il hottie?” Charlie was so glad for the book. It covered her grimace for the few moments before she got her face under control.

“Hi, Adam.” She avoided breaking stride, hoping she could just leave him behind, but he slipped around behind her, grabbing the book as he went. She sucked in a breath, worried and angry, but when she turned to him, he looked about as disinterested as he ever did. “Adam,” she said, carefully calm. “May I have my book, please?”

“Hot and smart, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. She tried not to gag. “Not even one single picture – really?” He flipped through a few more pages. Well, at least that reassured her that he still couldn’t see. There were plenty of diagrams in the book.

“It’s called a chapter book for a reason.” She made herself sound as cheerful as she could. Adam rolled his eyes. She reared back. For just a moment, an intangible wind rippled through her hair.

“Charlie. Babe.” She couldn’t make the wind die down, but either Adam somehow wasn’t seeing it, or he wasn’t noticing how weird it was. “Chapter books have got nothing on reality.” Adam flung the book over his shoulder, and Charlie’s breath caught in her chest. It arched through the air and – Oh God, oh fuck, it didn’t matter if it was a present instead of a loaner, if Alastor ever found out she let one of his books land in the mud he would kill her. “Reality’s got me,” he added, even as Charlie dove past him to rescue the book. He paused a moment, and she thought maybe he would apologize, but then – “God, that ass.”

She shot to her feet, book in hands, glaring at him. At least the wind was getting kind of tangible, so it wasn’t so weird that it was picking up her hair any more. Adam was holding up his hands in surrender, but there was a lazy expression on his face that made her angrier.

“Look, baby. Come on over to the bar, and we can get your book on a nice, safe little table, and I’ll make sure no one uses it as a coaster or anything, and you and me and Lute can all...get to know each other.”

Charlie shuddered. She managed to keep a hold of herself long enough to take a deep breath.

“Maybe some other time,” she lied. Since she’d already dove into the mud, she went ahead and started wiping the mud from the book with the sleeve of her blazer. “Please,” she added. “I gotta go make sure Dad’s all packed.”

“Gotta make sure Loony Luci doesn’t pack three rubber ducks instead of his toothbrush?” Lute quipped, coming up from behind Adam to stand just behind his shoulder. He snickered. All at once, the wind was back.

“Don’t talk about my Dad that way!”

Adam scrambled for a moment, and then turned around to flip Lute off. “Yeah, don’t talk about her fucking Dad that way!”

“My Dad’s not crazy! He’s a genius,” she snarled.

BOOM!

Charlie whipped around, the wind gone again. Smoke was rising from the basement’s open windows.

“Shit!” She took off at a run over the bridge, leaving Adam’s spluttering laughter behind her. It seemed like the cloud was already dissipating as she crested the hill, so she felt safe deciding that the house wasn’t actually on fire, but she didn’t bother slowing down, sliding in the dirt as she stopped in front of the basement doors. She threw them open, recoiling from the smoke.

“Dad?”

“’S okay!” He called back. Through the smoke, she saw him bent double, wheezing. “Just. Did the rubber duck test a little later than planned.”

“Um. That looks. A little...exploded. Are you sure you just put a rubber duck on one end?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, scrubbing a sooty hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it was that dependent on balance, but. Good to know. ‘Cause not everyone’ll use it the same.” He glanced back at the machine. “I’m just glad it didn’t fall apart.”

“It’s a mechanical chef, right?”

“Well. Chef’s being a little generous. It is supposed to kind of automate a kitchen, though.”

“Aw, but cooking is so nice. Why would anyone wanna automate it?” She reached out to poke at the axe on the end of it. Dad caught her wrist with a practiced, gentle hand.

“People with big houses are always doing dumb things with their money, CharChar. What if some little kid inherits a big ol’ chateau and half the staff ditch? She’s not gonna know how to hire more, and the butler will be too busy covering duties to do it for her. So. Lighter load for the butler, more time to hire staff – maybe less staff you gotta hire, too!” He cried. “And it can work in little provincial places, too, for the folks that don’t have as much get-up-and-go as they used to.”

“That’s so sweet.” Charlie clasped her hands together in front of her.

“So the boiler’s dependent on being right where it is…” Dad’s voice lowered until he descended into muttering, circling his contraption.

“Do you need any help to have it ready for tomorrow?”

“No. I shouldn’t, no.” He flapped a hand. After a moment of staring, he crossed his arms, holding onto his chin. “Hand me the – uh – dog-legged clencher...thing, if you don’t mind, actually.” Charlie smiled, rummaging around his tools for a moment until she could pass one to him. He disappeared from view. Charlie watched quietly for a few minutes, but then she looked down at her book. She grabbed a spare rag and began cleaning it carefully, standing it up and separating the pages, just in case.

“Dad?” She almost chickened out at the last second, and she wasn’t entirely sure he could hear her over the sounds of his work.

“Charlie?” He echoed. She was still staring at her book. She considered Alastor’s disinterest in it all. Adam constantly asking to ‘get to know’ her. How she and Sev worked so much better as friends.

“...How’d you and Mom meet?” She wasn’t sure it was what she meant to ask, but it felt right when it came out. The sounds of Dad working stopped, though. The basement was silent for a good few minutes.

“It was at a party,” Dad admitted. “Out in the garden, actually. We both picked the same tree for ‘just needing some air’.”

“When did you know she’d be...Mom?” Charlie waved a hand at the house above them, even though Dad wasn’t looking.

“I realized I couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day ever again.” Dad’s voice was a little thick, and Charlie ducked her head. Silence reigned in the basement again. Dad wiggled his way out from behind the invention and gathered her up in a hug. Charlie was forced to face that this blazer might be a lost cause.

“What brought this on?”

“Nothing,” she lied.

“...You know I’m hoping to get us back out of here with this, right? Maybe back out to the city.” Dad rubbed her arm, but then he straightened, eyes wide. “Do you want that, too? I mean, I know this is where your Mom grew up, and she really liked it here, but I just thought...you always just fit right in there, y’know?”

“I liked the city, Dad.” She promised, smiling. “I miss it a lot. ...I’m a little worried Mom’ll finally come back, and she won’t know where to find us. Y’know?”

“I know,” he whispered, gathering her into another hug. “Alright. I’ll think about it. It only matters if I win, anyway. Right?” He grinned sardonically.

“Which you absolutely will!” Charlie cheered, standing up. “C’mon, Dad, put me in charge of something!”

“Go ahead and hitch up Dazzle, kiddo. I think it only needs a couple more adjustments.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” She gave him a snappy salute before rushing back out up to the stables.