#mw re

[realmidnightwaffers]

Making pfps for all the MW characters! Today and first we have Real Emo or RE. Also I have finished the pilot ep's script!

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Here we go friends! These chapters just keep getting longer. A larger plot begins to reveal itself to me. I am having a lot of fun here and I hope you are too.

Chapter 3 - Reading Between the Lines

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Bad memories, A spot of magic, Voyeurism, Reader description kept pretty neutral but I kind of got slightly more specific about black hair care so you're just going to have to live with it.

~6k words

The next morning, it rains.

The pitter-patter of rain against your windows wakes you up, because it sounds wrong. There’s only one small window in your room in Kate’s house, and when weather blows in it’s the sound of water trickling down and dripping off the thatch roof that’s loudest, not the rain itself. Here the sound echoes strangely in the big space, and you wake with a start, disoriented, your heart-hammering in your chest.

It feels like your life in town is the dream, trickling away faster than you can cup your hands to hold onto it. You fly out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders, dashing out into the hallway, bare feet cold on the stone floor. The king’s bedroom is directly across the hall from your own, and you stare at the door, frozen and unsure if you’re willing to risk knocking, breath caught in your throat, chest tight, anxiety squeezing your ribs until they ache.

You’re sixteen and twenty-six both, living two lives out in one panicking body. You no longer belong here and you’ve never been anywhere else. Your father is alive, angry, terrifying, and he’s dead and buried where he can’t hurt you anymore. You are a tossed coin landed on it’s edge, waiting to fall.

The door in front of you opens, and you leap back on instinct, but breathe a sigh of relief when it’s John standing there, looking at you with surprise first, and then concern. “Sweetpea?” he asks, stepping forward to meet you, but leaving space between your bodies, like he knows that it would be worse for him to touch you right now. “What’s wrong?”

You press your shaking fingers to your mouth, holding back a sob. You swallow it down, pulling yourself together enough to speak. “I thought it was a dream,” you say at last. “I thought he was still alive.”

There’s no question who you mean. John reaches a hand out, an offering, and you take it, clinging to him like a life-line. He reels you into his arms, and you lean in, the solid, warm bulk of him as reliable and real as the earth below. “He’s not,” he says firmly. “I put him in the ground myself. You’re safe.”

You nod against his chest, feeling small and silly now. “I’m sorry,” you say, although you’re not sure what you’re sorry for. For showing weakness, maybe, for being lost in your own memory, for needing reassurance.

“It’s early yet,” he murmurs against the top of your head. “You should try to sleep a little longer.”

You’re not sure you could even if you tried, and even though you’re still tired, the adrenaline leaving your body cold, fatigue dragging at your bones insistently. You could maybe sleep against John’s chest, holding onto him, his heartbeat steady and strong enough in your ear to drown out the still-frenetic tempo of your own. “I think I’ll just get dressed,” you say, pushing away. He drops his arms instantly, letting you put a little distance between you.

He shakes his head, smiling at you fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Sweetpea, the sun hasn’t even risen. Go back to bed. I know just the thing to help. Go on.” He turns you toward your door and nudges you along.

There’s no point in arguing with him— You are tired, and although you suspect sleep will be beyond your reach, it’s cold in the hallway, especially now that you’re no longer pressed against John’s warm chest, and your bed is still warm when you climb back in.

Darkness presses down on you, heavy as grave-dirt, and you lay there, staring at the ceiling. You touch the crystal lamp next to your bed to light up the room, but that’s no better, really.

John knocks, but doesn’t wait for your answer before coming in, a dark wolf with blue eyes trotting in on his heels. “Go on, Soap,” he says, and Soap hops up onto your bed and lays down half on top of you, his head on your shoulder, tail wagging. John pats him on the head like he’s just a dog. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

It should probably feel weird to cuddle up with a werewolf, since he’s really a man, and you’ll have to face that silly, crooked grin in the morning, but you need someone to cling to, and you’re to proud and cautious to cling to John. “Thank you,” is all you have it in you to say.

“He gets nightmares too. Usually sleeps across someone’s bed. I’m sure he’d be happy to stay with you while you’re here.” John says it simply, without a drop of judgment or condescension, and scratches behind Soap’s ear. “He’s a real good listener when he can’t talk back too.” He withdraws, tapping the light and throwing the room into darkness again.

You don’t even hear the door click shut. You bury your face into the thick fur around Soap’s neck and fall asleep almost instantly.

When you wake up again, it's with a very large, very naked man on top of you.

You yelp, scrambling back on your pillows. Johnny’s eyes snap open at your first movement, on high alert before he’s all the way awake. He scrambles too, and falls right off the side of the bed with a solid thud.

"Oh! Johnny I'm so sorry," you look down at him from the edge of the mattress, trying not to laugh. "I forgot you were here."

"It's alright, lass. I didna mean to startle ye. Ah shift back overnight sometimes. Price didnae remember to warn ye." He sits up and leans against the bed, forearms folded over each other. He looks no worse for wear, and like he slept as solidly as you did, those last few hours. There’s a faint imprint of lace from your nightgown on his face, and half of his hair is stuck straight up, the rest pressed flat. "Are ye feelin' better?"

“I am. Thank you for staying with me.”

“S’nothin’ really. Nicer sleepin’ with you than Gaz, he kicks awl night long. An’ Nox doesnae like me none, so I cannae stay with Ghost.” He grins. “Price lets me stay but he makes me sleep at the foot of the bed like a dog. Sometimes a man wants a cuddle, ye ken?”

You giggle. “I ken.”

"Really livin' up to yer name, aye Sweetpea?"

You laugh again. "Johnny, you know that's not my name, right?"

"No? What is it?" He shakes his head when you tell him. "I like Sweetpea better. Suits ye."

"Me too," you tell him. It has no connections to your previous life. It just reminds you of the pretty pink, purple, and white flowers that grow on delicate, curling vines that you like to grow over the side of the chicken coop.

There's a knock on the door, and Johnny leaps up to see who it is. You have to hold your hand up quickly to avoid getting an eyeful of things you're not supposed to see. He's absolutely shameless-- you suspect he wouldn't think twice about strolling down the hallways without a scrap on. You have a curiousity about men's bodies that you're too bashful to indulge, even if you're pretty sure that Johnny would stand still and let you look as long as you liked. Well, maybe not stand still. But you doubt he would mind.

It's Ghost at the door. He doesn't wait for an invitation to come in, but he has clothes for Johnny hung over his arm, so you don't mind. Honestly, you can bear a few overzealous men who feel entitled to your space for a few days, because after that you'll get to go home and get back to your life.

Ghost positions himself between you and Johnny, just as he had yesterday. "Price said you 'ad a bit of an episode earlier. You olright?"

"Just fine," you say brightly. "No need to worry."

"Och, let him worry, hen. He likes ta do it."

"I'm really fine," you insist.

"You want to visit the mausoleum? Might make it feel more real."

You'd be more interested in going there to visit your mother's grave, if you're going at all, but you think that you'll wait for a sunnier day. A gray, dreary morning like the one outside your windows is no balm for dark memories or old wounds. Sunshine might be. "Not today," you say. "Maybe tomorrow." You get out of bed as gracefully as possible, well aware that you have an audience. "Perhaps the two of you could step outside for a moment while I get dressed?"

Ghost glances behind him, checking to see if Soap is covered up enough for him to move, and then walks over to your closet and pulls out a screen that you hadn't noticed sitting in the corner there, and sets it up. "There you go, Sweetpea. You'll need help with all your fastenin's anyway, won't you?"

You imagine that he's smiling under the mask, more than a little smug about it, but you let it slide. "Very thoughtful."

"Try to be."

The blank face of his mask gives you nothing when you glance over, aside from that he’s looking back. It’s not the first time that you’ve wished for more insight into what he’s thinking, but there’s a gravity to his attention that you swear was never there before, and it prickles at the back of your neck even after you duck out of sight.

You choose a sunny yellow dress today, to counter the deluge outside, and remove the silk scarf wrapped around your head so you can twist your braids on each side from your brow back to the nape of your neck, pinning the lengths into a knot. You’ll have to redo them soon, but without Kate and her wife to help you, you know it’ll take hours, if not most of a day.

You walk over to where Ghost is sitting and turn your back to him so he can button it up for you. He hands you his gloves to hold while he does so, and you run your hands over the detail of white leather bones stitched on over the well-worn black leather, decoration and extra protection both. Idly, you slip one on, but your hands are so small in comparison to his that you have to stretch your hand out just to get your fingers arranged inside it properly. He stands behind you, and leans over you to gently pull them from your hands, as though to underline again how much bigger he is than you are.

The top of your head brushes his chest when you tip your head back to look at him. “Thank you,” you say.

“I’m always ‘appy to ‘elp,” he says. “I’m with you for the mornin’ anyway. Might as well make myself useful, eh?”

“Stuck minding me?” you tease, sweeping around to fold back the sheets on your bed, only to find that one of them had already done it. Ghost, most likely, judging by how neat it is. You touch his arm lightly in silent thanks, and the three of you leave your room together.

Other than insisting you eat breakfast (served in a communal dining hall, where they insist on bringing things to you rather than let you suffer the indignity of standing in a line, and watch you eat with unnerving intensity), they’re content to follow you around as you refamiliarize yourself with the castle, mapping out changes so you don’t get turned about looking for anything. You find a number of familiar faces here and there, and have an perplexingly similar conversation with anyone you know, where they welcome you back cheerfully, and grow a bit quiet and nervous when you insist that you won’t be staying long, and when you try to press them on that, you’re ushered out, told they’re too busy to chat, and that you’ll find time to catch up later.

You suspect that Ghost and Johnny are the source of their nerves, but both of them always seem to be a few paces out of (human) earshot, and minding their own business, talking about something else quietly between them.

"Where's Kyle?" you ask as you're hustled out of the the healer's work shop and back out into the hallway. It’s become abundantly clear, no matter how well they feign innocence, that your hulking shadows are making the staff nervous, and you decide not to subject anyone else to their company. If you can slip away from them later, you might be able to have an actual conversation.

“Prob’ly ‘oled up in ‘is workshop,” Ghost says. “Some weeks we ‘ardly see ‘im.”

“Wizardy shite,” Johnny adds, his tone disapproving. “As if there aren’t a thousand ways ta blow shite intae bits withoot wigglin’ yer fingers. Can blow up flour, did ye know, Sweetpea? In barrels isnae much different than black powder.”

“Still useful to have a little magic,” you say, flipping your palm over and conjuring a flame in the centre of it. It’s one of the few spells in your cache, and you’ve mostly just used it to light candles and the stove. Your lessons barely dipped beyond simple control— You’d been told that magic was no proper pastime for a lady. When you think back on it now, you think it’s more that your father never wanted you to have defenses that he could not control, or that could be used against him. A grim thought, from this side of things.

“Forgot you ‘ave a little magic in you.” Ghost holds his hands above yours, feeling the heat coming off the small flame. “Come on, pet. Let’s find Kyle. Might be enough to pull ‘is nose out of ‘is books.”

You close your hand, extinguishing the flame, and let them guide you through a few corridors and up a spiraling stone staircase.

Johnny hesitates at the door, nose wrinkling at the slight, hard to identify smell of complex magical wards that are carved neatly into the doors. You can feel the slight hum of it in your teeth. Ghost pushes the door open without knocking (you think all four of these men might be allergic to knocking), and steps inside.

You follow, and stop right there in the doorway while Ghost ventures in further. Kyle is shirtless, doing pushups over a heavy looking book. He doesn't look up, doesn't even stop when he turns the page, just continues the exercise one handed. He's in perfect shape, every muscle well-defined, putting even some of the finely-carved marble statues you've seen to shame. He has a frame for wiry muscle, but he's worked so hard that he's gotten bulky too, and although he's not as broad as Soap or as big as Ghost, it's clear that he's stronger than most men. Certainly stronger than men of his occupation have any need to be.

"What do you want, Ghost?" Kyle asks, still focused on his reading. "I'm busy, you know."

"Brought our girl by to see you, and you don't even bother lookin' up."

Kyle’s attention does snap up at that, brown eyes sliding past Ghost’s legs to you, still hovering in the doorway, Johnny a step behind, peering over your shoulder. Kyle scrambles to his feet, sending the book flying with a gesture. It settles on the desk behind him as he steps around Ghost, dusting his hands against his trousers before he takes yours, pulling you more fully into the space. His skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, but he's not the least bit out of breath. “Come on in, Sweetpea. Did you come all the way up here just to see me?”

“Of course,” you say. It’s a silly question, although now that you look around the space, you’re gripped by curiousity. The circular room is lined with bookshelves, each full of thick, leather and linen-bound tomes that hum with power. The whole room sings like a chorus, the sound not in your ears, but tickling the back of your mind instead. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I don’t want to interrupt, of course, if you’re working on something.” Although, now that you're looking, it seems like he’s working on many things, all at once. He has a carousel of research tomes open next to the desk, and neatly written pages laid out over the desk to dry, a stack of opened and unopened correspondence in a basket hanging from the side, ingredients measured out by a shelf full of bottles and jars of strange and familiar ingredients, and there are unlit candles set around the perimeter of an open area on the floor, a circle of iridescent tile set into the stone, pale and glittering.

“Nothing important this moment. Just studying while I wait for ink to dry. The mind grows dull if you don’t take the time to keep it sharp.” He glances at Johnny meaningfully, and receives a rude gesture in response.

“There’s more’n just books if ye want to keep sharp,” Johnny says, his voice flinty. “Isnae the only way to learn, ye know.”

You glance at Ghost. His mask looks back at you, blank as ever. “There’s a place for books, and a place for practical application,” you say diplomatically. “Wisdom can be found in many places.”

“In a pretty girl, for one,” Ghost says approvingly. “Would be good for you to crack a book once in a while, Soap. And for you to spend a little less time ‘oled up in ‘ere.” His head turns toward Kyle.

“I have a lot to do, you know,” Kyle says. “I can’t just shove everything to the side whenever I please.”

You drift closer to the desk, peeking at the tome he was referencing earlier, the pages opened to a chapter on illusion spells. Curious, you glance to his notes, humming with interest at the first page you glance at. It’s something about setting spells of illusion into fabric, weaving magic into the very stitches. “Are you trying to make a cloak of shadows?” you ask, picking up the page carefully by the edges, still mindful of the mostly dried ink.

Kyle looks over at you and smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Something like that. I didn’t know you were interested in magical theory.”

“She’s got a little sorcery in ‘er,” Ghost explains. “Maybe you should give ‘er a lesson or two. While she’s ‘ere.”

Your ears perk up at that, and you drop the paper back to the desk, forgetting it entirely. “Would you?” you ask excitedly. “I really would love to learn more.”

Kyle slips his shirt back on and beckons you over to one of the bookcases, smile turning sly and conspiratorial. “Can you give me a hand Sweetpea? I need something off the top shelf.”

You look up at the top shelf, which is well out of your reach. “Kyle, I think maybe you should ask Ghost.”

“Sorry, pet, I’m busy keepin’ Soap from pilferin’ alchemical ingredients.”

"Wasnae pilferin'! Just takin' a wee looksie. Isnae a crime."

"Soap," Kyle says pleasantly. "If I find anything missing we are going to have a long talk about it." He shakes his head lightly, sweet brown eyes finding yours, amused.

"D'ye think he means a good rough fuck?" Johnny asks Ghost, not quite quiet enough for you not to hear it. "Or an actual chat? Because that's goan ta change what I do here."

"I really don't think I can help," you say to Kyle, ignoring Johnny's query as much as you can. "Unless you'd like me to climb the shelves."

"Here." He crouches down in front of you and hugs your knees to his chest, other hand a higher on the backs of your thighs to hold you steady, and pops up. You let out a little shriek, and press your hands against his strong shoulders for support. "Don't worry, Sweetpea, I've got you. Now, can you grab that slim blue volume to the right? The one with no title on the spine."

Scanning the neat row of books, you locate the one he means and pick it up. "Ive got it," you inform him, laughing. "Now please put me down."

He slides you down his front carefully, adjusting his grip, your skirts bunching up and exposing your stockinged calves, and he holds you just above him for a moment. You loop your arms around his neck reflexively, holding the book behind him. He looks up at you, so dazzlingly handsome, you're almost surprised that he's real.

"Kyle," you remind him gently. "Please put me down."

“You sure?” he asks, bringing you down just a little more, so that your face is just above his own. “You look a bit tired today, princess. Could just carry you around for the rest of the day if you like.”

“That will not be necessary,” you say firmly. “But it’s a very kind offer.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the room, but you’re not sure if it comes from Ghost or Johnny. “Nothin’ kind about it,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Bastard just likes the idea of bein’ pressed up against ye all day.”

“You slept in her bed last night,” Kyle reminds him. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“Ahm no’ jealous! Yer just bein’ a fandan charmer tryna cop a wee feel, an’ ye willnae admit ta it.”

You look over at Ghost, and he shakes his head. You imagine that he’s rolling his eyes, just as exasperated by the two of them as you are. He comes to your rescue though, carefully pulling you out of Kyle’s arms and setting you back down on the floor. “Thank you, Ghost,” you say archly, shaking your crumpled skirts out with one hand.

“Sorry, Sweetpea,” Kyle says, and you can’t help but note that he certainly doesn’t sound sorry. “If you read the first chapter of this tonight, we can do a lesson in the morning. This will probably be a step up from whatever paltry lessons the old wizard gave you— I know he took offence to the idea of training you at all, the closed-minded old bastard. If you have any questions, make notes, and we can go over it.” He taps the top of the book you hold. “You can write in it, if you like. I’ve scribbled in the margins a few times myself.”

You tuck the book into your pocket. “Thank you, Kyle. I appreciate that.”

“Anything for you, Sweetpea.”

You hesitate, a bit nervous to ask a favour when he’s already agreed to take time out of his day to give you a lesson in something you’re not sure you have enough talent in to warrant. He’s cleary a busy person, and you don’t want to waste his time.

Kyle senses your hesitation, and reaches for your hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Anything,” he repeats, brown eyes oh-so earnest.

Your ears feel hot. Flirting comes as easily to him as breathing, and even though you’re sure he means little by it, by his relationship with Johnny and the claim that John has laid on you, it’s hard not to grow flustered when he directs the full force of that sunshine smile at you. “Did you ever, um, help your sisters with their hair? I’d like to have a bath this afternoon, and wash my hair, but it’ll take me ages to rebraid it alone. I would really appreciate an extra set of hands if you have a spare minute tomorrow.”

He grins at that, pleased to be able to help you with something that Ghost and Johnny are ill-equipped to. The scar on his cheek dimples slightly when he smiles this hard, the slight flaw in his complexion more a dashing accessory to his charm than any detractor. “Would be happy to help. Do you have everything else you need? Oil? Curl cream?”

You hadn’t thought to check what was in the cupboard in the bathroom. “I’m not sure,” you admit.

“I have some. I’ll bring them by your room later this afternoon, just in case.”

Ghost offers to walk you back to your room, leaving Johnny behind to discuss something with Kyle, although as soon as the door closes, you hear a crash and a series of colourful swear words. You glance behind you as Ghost ushers you down the stairs. “Should we—”

“No. Trust me, Sweetpea. They’re just fine, and not doin’ anything you want to see.”

“Oh.” The implication warms you from the tips of your ears to somewhere in your belly.

“You’ve got the lads all worked up,” Ghost adds, as though you needed more context. “Competin’ with each other to get a smile out of you. Let ‘em blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t understand why they’re so concerned with me, if they have each other,” you say, trailing one hand over the wall, feeling the bumps of cool stone and seams between the cut blocks as you descend. “And John has made no secret of his intentions.”

He touches your arm to halt you, and moves past, taking a few extra steps so he stands below you, the near-hidden gleam of his eyes on level with yours. The two of you are alone here, where the curve of the stairs create a private universe, a pocket of stone and crystal light casting meagre shadow. "What are your intentions?" He asks. "Are you goin' to just let 'im take what 'e pleases?"

"I intend to go home," you say. "I won't be staying."

"Olright, maybe you do go 'ome. And what'f Kyle or Johnny came sniffin' round to court you themselves?"

"They won't."

"Why wun't they? You're a ray of sunshine sweet girl. You're the only one that don't see it."

"Ghost--"

"No, hush up for a moment, princess. You've got the wrong idea. I personally threatened every man that so much as looked your way. For years. Din't think about 'ow that'd make you feel. You're beautiful. Enough to chase, enough to go to bloody war for." His body is still, save for the slightest twitch of his fingers. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. You make us all crazy.”

The surety that John would really let you go slips as Ghost speaks, something fundamental about your footing in the world shifting uneasily beneath you. You had found comfort in the idea that you were quotidian, unremarkable. That the crown alone was aggrandizing, and you could pass unnoticed without it. Now you wonder if you’ve ever gone unnoticed, or if it was just that you had been too obtuse to see. “It doesn’t matter,” you insist. It’s easier to reject what he says outright, even if Ghost has never lied to you, never given you a reason to doubt his words. The ground settles. “I will be going home in a few days, and once John has my official endorsement none of you will have to keep an eye on me again.”

“You won’t rid yourself of me that easily,” he says firmly. “Keepin’ you safe’s one of the only jobs that I do that’s worth doin’. I promised your mum I would, an’ I don’t intend to break my oath just because you don’t think you’re worth it.”

“My mother asked you to?” You had always thought Ghost’s orders had come from your father, setting the quiet, faceless, black-clad knight on your heels, as close as a shadow, only leaving your side when the king sent him off to fight, somewhere far and away. “Why?”

“Figured she could tell I ‘aven’t got an ounce of ambition in me. Used to, before I came ‘ere. Didn’t do me any good. Can’t trust my own head, sometimes. But if I can trust what’s ‘ere—” He puts his hand to his chest, head tipped slightly to the side. “— Then I know I can trust what’s in there.” He lifts his hand and taps his finger against your forehead lightly.

You blink at him, surprised by how much he’s said all at once. Abruptly, he turns around and continues down the stairs, finished the conversation. You spur yourself back into motion, sweeping your skirts up with one hand so you don’t trip. There’s no doubt that you could trust Ghost to catch you, but the risk of sending you both tumbling down the long spiral staircase has you moving cautiously.

He stays with you for a bit, offering help unbraiding your hair and unbuttoning your dress, and leaves without protest when you ask him to. Predictably, he’s quiet the entire time, as though he used up his daily quota of words all at once in the stairway.

You lay out everything you need close to the tub, and sink into a hot bath, sighing. This is perhaps one of the few things you really did miss about castle life— Hot running water. If you wanted a hot bath in town, you would either have to go to the public bathhouse, or spend a good hour boiling enough water to fill a tub at Kate’s house.

You hum happily to yourself, which turns to singing out loud, the acoustics in the tiled room too good to resist. You sing your way through a number of folk songs as you run a cloth over your skin and scrub your hair clean, hot water and soap washing away what little of the darkness from that morning that company and distraction hadn’t banished, clinging shadows in the corners of your mind scoured clean again.

You pull the plug and let the water start to drain, and stand up, wringing your hair out before you reach over to the towel you’d set aside for yourself, bracing you hand on the side of the tub.

“What are you two muppets doing?” John’s voice coming through the cracked open door startles you. And it startles Johnny and Kyle too, because they tumble through the door onto the tiled floor, landing on top of each other in a heap.

You clutch the towel to your front, unable to keep yourself from letting out a surprised shriek. It takes a moment for surprise to give way to anger, your shocked, wide-eyed gaze traveling from Johnny’s red face to Kyle’s guilty expression to John in the doorway, a complicated mix of stony anger and surprise in his blue eyes. Both emotions fade as his attention lingers on your exposed legs, crawling up slowly.

“I came to drop off— But he was—” Kyle starts to try to explain himself.

“Dinnae try to blame tha’ on me, ye fuckin’ roaster, Ahm no’ a’ fault for what yer doin’,” Johnny cuts him off angrily, shoving Kyle off of him. “Yer no’ better than me just ‘cause ye weren’t here first.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

You level a glare at him that has his mouth shutting so fast that you can hear the click of his teeth. “Get out.”

The two of them scramble up and nearly fall over themselves trying to get out as quickly as possible, mortified to have been caught. They start sniping at each other before they’ve even gotten out of earshot.

John, however, doesn’t budge from the doorway. You direct your fury at him. “John. Get out.”

He doesn’t scramble to obey like the younger men did, as is he has any more right to be there than they did. “Sweetpea,” he says evenly, as though he expects to be able to talk you down from your very justified anger with a few measured words.

“Now,” you snap. “Before I lose my temper.”

He hesitates a moment longer, but the look on your face makes him reconsider trying to have a conversation with you for the moment, and he leans into the room just enough to grasp the door handle and pull it closed behind him as he retreats.

You look at the ceiling for a long moment, swallowing down the urge to scream.

By the time Ghost comes to fetch you for dinner (unsurprising that the other three didn’t have the nerve) you’ve mostly calmed down, untangling your emotions as you do your hair. You hope that John will have news of your cousin’s witness, so you can count down the days. The longing for home has intensified, and all you want is to curl up in your bed in Kate’s house and cry. If it will be weeks, you’ll ask if you can go home in the interim, and come back when the time comes to make your speech.

Ghost helps you button up your dress. You’re so tired of needing help from them. Your ire bleeds over, and you’re snappy with him too, annoyed that you’ve had to spend so much time with men lately. Aggravated that you’re forced to rely on them for something as private as getting dressed, when they shouldn’t even be alone with you in your room to begin with.

You apologize on the way down the stairs, however. Ghost just chuckles in response. “Even when you’re snappin’, you’re a peach,” he says. “Don’t think you missed a single opportunity for a please and thank you. Can’t ‘elp yourself from bein’ sweet.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything,” you say. “I’m not angry with you, I shouldn’t be rude.”

“Think it would be a bit of a lark, you bein’ rude.”

You laugh, and it clears away some of the lingering bitterness, like sediment washing away downstream. You feel remarkably clear-headed when you enter the dining room and face the three sets of guilty eyes.

All three of them start to speak at once, and stop as soon as you raise your hand. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say firmly. “All three of you are grown men, and you should know better than to behave so shamefully.”

John frowns, not happy to be receiving the same share of the blame. “Sweetpea, I wasn’t—”

“I am not finished.” You cut him off with a sharp look. “I know I do not need to chastise any of you. All of you were in the wrong. But I share some of the blame too, allowing you all free access to my space in the first place. So here is what will change. One, I would like a lock on my door. No more popping in without permission. Two, you will all learn how to knock. Three, I would like a lady to accompany me for the rest of my stay here. It is not appropriate for me to accept assistance from any man with dressing, and I do not require shadows following me everywhere I go.”

Ghost shifts beside you. “Now ‘old on,” he says. “You need protection.”

“I need no such thing. I do not believe there are assassins waiting around every corner for me.”

“I should be with you,” he insists. “If somethin’ ‘appens—”

“What do you expect is going to happen?” you ask hotly. You’ve lived on your own for years, and your hiding place was apparently well known to everyone. If an assassin was coming to dispatch you, they would have already come. The opportunities had likely been plentiful.

“Ghost is right. You need to be kept safe.” John holds up both hands when you look at him, half a surrender and half a plea for you to hear him out. You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting. “A compromise. A fighting woman. Someone that can help you with anything you need, and can defend you if something were to happen.”

You incline your head. It’s a reasonable compromise. “That would be acceptable.”

“Farah?” Kyle asks.

“If she’ll say yes, she’d be the person I trust most with Sweetpea’s safety.” John glances at you, and offers you a little smile, like he’s not sure that you’re entirely done scolding. “You’ll like her. I’ll have her meet you in town tomorrow. Want you fitted for something nice to wear for your speech.”

“There is a closet full of perfectly nice dresses in my room,” you say. “I do not need anything else.”

“Indulge me. Your cousin’s man will be here tomorrow night, and the day after we’ll have you make your statement.” John’s smile widens, turning the slightest, inexplicable bit smug. “Want you to look your best, if it’s to be your last day as a princess, hm? And then on to better things.”

You sigh. It can't hurt to give in on this matter, since you won't have to stay much longer. “Very well, John. Although I think it’s a waste.”

The look in his deep blue eyes is inscrutable, but his smile doesn't slip. “I disagree. Nothing you let me give to you could ever be a waste.”

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Divider by CafeKitsune

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

[magical-wishies]

Magomarch Day 1 -Rift

March has come upon us once again! Will try to be consistent with the challenge this time ☆

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Graves x Reader x Ghost Love Triangle

As Shadow Company’s second in command, you’ve seen firsthand the kind of man Graves could be, including the kind of man he wanted to be for you. It was a game you two unknowingly played, one that would surely not end well. A quick distraction meant to tame your busy souls. Warm bodies to lie with. Anything other than that was pure fantasy, though you two couldn’t help dreaming...

Future NSFW 18+, Future Angst, Pre-MW2 Events, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, First Kiss, Romance, Drama, Build-up, Implied FWB, Make-Out Session, Shadow Company!Reader

WC ~ 2k

AO3 Link | Masterlist

A/N (2024): Made a few minor grammatical fixes and touched up some of the sentences that weren't making sense. Hopefully, this reads a lot stronger now! ^.~

A/N: I have never posted on Tumblr like this before; I’m a grade A lurker. But I’m obsessed with this for whatever reason, so now you’re being subjected to my writing. This is chapter one to a longer story that’ll be posted on AO3. Sorry if the characters feel OOC, I’m trying my best with what we got. Please enjoy! (T^T)>

Phillip Graves was as much of an enigma as the rest of the men in Shadow Company.

He could be many things when asked: Confident and self-assured, charismatic and dependable, disciplined and cutthroat, remorseless … as cold and calculated as a well-trained attack dog, or as warm and inviting as a long-time friend. All these personas existed within the commander, ready to be switched on in a single order. A chameleon, true to his craft. He’s grown accustomed to making himself whoever the world needed him to be. Anything that gets the job done.  

There was never any mistaking where Graves' thoughts lie, as more than often he'd just admit to them out loud. He accepts that others believe him to be an open book -- easy to read, with little complexity or depth beyond being a good soldier. Being lighthearted and obedient to the right people has worked wonders for him in the past, so he's mastered this façade and uses it well to his advantage. Proudly too.

But for a man so unafraid to be himself, Graves could be surprisingly secretive. 

As his second in command, you've seen firsthand the many personas your commander wore, including ones he's worn for you. Most of his tricks and plays you recognized by now, even as you've yet to understand them. Though as of late you’ve watched these many faces of his waver into something unfamiliar. They chip away slowly, each time you surrender yourself to his needs, taking your place beside him in the black of night, when no one's around to see. There, he's created a new façade, for your eyes only.

One that only made things complicated.

When you first began spending your nights together, it was more of a means to an end. It had been months since either of you had the pleasure of someone else's full attention, and lately, you were starting to notice. Shadow Company had grown more acclaimed and busy this past year, making dating pretty impossible. And after a while, anyone starts to look like a good lay if they're not ugly. Unfortunately, it didn't leave you with many options, until you'd caught the starved eye of your very own commander. 

You’d hardly been a part of Shadow Company for a month before you’d picked up on Graves' interest in you. He was surprisingly subtle with his flirting, if not predictable. It was the way his eyes lingered on you in quiet moments, his expression turned soft as his lips curved into a charming smile whenever you'd catch him. He could always spot you in a crowded room, always noticing when you were away for too long. He laughed just a little too hard at your jokes and always looked your way first after sharing one himself.

Before long, you found yourself beginning to watch him back. 

It was the little details you noticed first. The small cuts on his face from past firefights, how glossy and full of life his blue eyes looked in direct sunlight. Its rays would make a halo over his dirty blond hair, each strand looking clean enough to run your fingers through. He once caught you looking at him lick his lips, something he did often. When your eyes lifted from his mouth to see your superior officer looking dead at you, it shot a bolt of lightning through you. But you didn't look away, perhaps wanting him to see you looking. Taunting him.

Graves didn't say anything at first when he saw you ogling, but you knew he'd made a mental note of it just from the way he smirked afterward. "See something you like?"

"I see you, Commander," you'd said, hoping your glib nature would cover up the embarrassment you felt from getting caught. But Graves was like a shark in the water, and you'd just given him a taste of your blood.

"I see you too, Songbird." 

It seems all he needed was that clue that you were interested in him, because it wasn't soon after this when he decided to make his move.

You and the Commander had just finished prepping your mission brief for the other Shadow Company members. By now it was getting late in the night, as the building you two were in was a small facility only authorized personnel could enter. You occupied one of the empty rooms converted into an office space for all the pencil pushers to work out of. They’d all clocked out for the day though, leaving you two alone; and the tension in the air between you had just reached a boiling point.

You stood up from one of the tables in the room, preparing to slip into your coat and call it a night, until you watched the Commander approach you suddenly. You assumed he was getting ready to leave as well, until you noticed his come-hither nature.

“So, you got any plans tonight?”

And just like that, the game was on. You knew right away where this would go and it had your heart already skipping a beat. But you didn't want to jump to conclusions, nor did you want to rush this either. The thrill of the pursuit provided you with a nice little rush.

Wicked as you were, you began to smile.

“Why?” you ask. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I can think of a few things,” he said, behaving purposefully coy, in hopes of getting a rile out of you. He always did enjoy your banter and had no problem doing a little teasing himself when presented with the opportunity.

“Is that right?” you say flirtatiously. “Will I like those “things”, Commander?”

Graves smirks, raising an eyebrow at your comment. Hearing his title roll from your tongue so provocatively brought a sudden twinkle to his eyes. At this point, he didn’t need to guess where your mind was, which only made him more bold.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a few small steps closer, until he’s only an arm's length away. His next play.

He wasn't the tallest man you met but he still managed to tower over you by a few inches, the light from the room casting a shadow over him. This close you could smell the aftershave and cologne he’d used this morning, watching the way his eyes took in every detail of you, pupils dilating, black over-compassing the deep blue of his irises. He leans against the wall and unconsciously licks his lips again.

It was like a switch flipped in him.

“You will.”

You scoff, laughing under your breath at his boldness. You were wondering when he would be. Still, you wanted to poke at him a little more, see how long you could keep him waiting, if not to see if he was being for real. “Cocky as always.”

“Would you like me some other way then?”

You play on his words from earlier. “I can think of a few ways.”

“And what might those ways be, Songbird?”

"You're a smart boy," you hum. "I think you can figure them out. My lips are sealed, otherwise."

Graves steps even closer. He lifts a hand and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle and surprisingly warm, gliding against you like feathers, his fingers trailing across your jawline and resting beneath your chin. Goosebumps formed where he touched, and you could tell from the doe-eyed look he had that it was doing something to him too, seeing you like this. He takes his hand beneath your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to lock eyes.

"And if I order you to say them?"

His voice was now much lower than before. Sultry. You could feel it in the air he was ready to come in closer, simply waiting for an opportunity to do so that felt right.

Butterflies shot through you like a thick swarm; you didn’t want to let on that his words had you like putty in his hands, though you feared your little lip quiver may have given it away. You instead look down at his lips again, your gaze sullied. You began thinking of all the ways you could close this space between you two and put an end to the tension. The thrill of it all had your adrenaline spiking in all the right ways, simply waiting to see where things go from this point. "Then I won’t listen," you purr.

"Insubordination is rather punishable," he said.

"So is fraternization."

"I can keep a secret." Graves brought his thumb to your lip, lightly running it across, as his eyes lowered to your mouth. He nearly says in a whisper, "Tell me what you’re thinking."

"Let me show you."

His lips slowly come down to yours, kissing you gently. When you pressed your lips back against his, he exhaled pleasurably, tongue grazing your bottom lip. He moves his hand from your chin and curls it to the back of your neck, holding you in place and continuing to tease you with short, velvety pecks. His lips danced against yours with the skill of a seasoned player, clearly experienced in his craft, but it wasn’t until he felt your hands glide against his hips and tug him closer that his kisses grew insatiable. 

His grip on the back of your neck tightened, lips pressing harder against yours, feverishly. When the sudden aggression brings a low moan from you, it only makes him push harder, his other hand grabbing the small of your back and roughly pressing himself against you.

His weight causes you to shift backward until he has your back pressed against a wall. Unknowingly, your arm bumps against a nearby filing cabinet on the way there, knocking over a few papers that now littered the floor. Mere background noise to Graves, who only continues, his arms planted on other sides of the wall around you, as his lips trailed down your neck. His kisses reach your collarbone, the sensitive sensation causing you to gasp out a moan. “Graves!”

Hearing his name be moaned out sends him on a personal mission to hear you say it more. He takes his hands and slowly runs them down your body, feeling every bit of you he can through your uniform, before resting them on your thighs. In one swift motion, he then lifts you, taking your legs and straddling them around his waist, as he keeps your back against the wall. He presses himself to you and breathes heavily, rejoining his mouth with yours.

By now you could feel him through his pants, and you pushed yourself against him in response, the grinding motion bringing quiet moans from both of you. That’s when you two suddenly hear footsteps.

At the drop of a hat, you two freeze, going completely silent. The footsteps come from outside the room -- someone walking by in the hallway. A janitor maybe? God forbid it was anyone in the company. You held your breaths for only about a minute, listening to the steps pass by the room until you couldn’t hear them any longer.

The two of you let out a shared sigh, before looking back at one another. Graves had you still pinned to the wall, your legs tucked in his arms. He can’t help but chuckle. 

“This probably ain’t the best place for this, darlin'," he spoke. "As much as I want to keep going."

“I don’t know,” you joke. “I like the vibe. It’s very risqué.”

Graves smiles at you. And then, he pauses for a moment. Suddenly his eyes can’t seem to pick a spot he wants to look at on your face. You see something in him change, gears turning in his mind. Thinking of what he might say to you now. Hiding away his vulnerabilities. It makes your own mind begin to ponder.

“See something you like?” you ask him.

“I see you.”

Graves leaned in and kissed you another time, softly. Like you’d been lovers your whole lives. That’s when you realized how truly dangerous your commander could be; for a minute there, you started daydreaming about what tomorrow could bring you both. You wanted to fall for his pretty words. But then you remembered where you were, and who you were with.

This was a game. A mutual distraction. As things stand, thinking that this could be anything else beyond a good lay was purely a fantasy. You almost just lost yourself in it.

And so it goes.

"Your place or mine?”

...Chapter Two Here!

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Your Ghost x Jade is so lovely! I'm glad it gets alot of recoginition, this is like... the first time in my life i see an OC getting so much love and i'm happy to see it honestly. Also i wanted to ask, what made you want to give Ghost a love interest and do you have any thoughts on how he would be like with attachments and such?

Hello Anon! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) Thank you so much for the love!

To answer your question here it is : Ever love a fictional character that has been through lots of stuff so much that you wanna just hug him?

Yeah that's Jade. Jade is my projection. I created her to give Ghost a big, tight, hug.

About how Ghost would be with relationships and attachments, I think he's the definition of slowburn.

Note : I tend to use Enneagram for character building and relationships, and I personally believe Ghost is a Type 8 : The Challenger. You can search it up!

Relationship is about trust, and I'm pretty sure that he has a lot of trust issues, considering everything that he's been through. I'd like to think that he always wants to be in control of everything in his surroundings in every situation, and that includes in relationships.

Betrayal is the one thing that's always on his mind, and that's why it is very hard for him to get attached. Ghost always keep everyone around him on arm's length to avoid getting betrayed.

Other than trust, I think a relationship (romantically) is also about giving some sort of control to the other, and that is why someone would need lots and lots of time and effort to build his trust, and by the time he gives control, that's when you know he finally surrenders and lets himself love and be loved.

Imo, more than anything, Ghost needs a safe place to be vulnerable - someone that wouldn't betray him for all his good and bad, that could handle the baggage on his mind, but also one that would bravely stand up to him if he does something wrong.

[Insert Jade who straight up calls him "BEANPOLE" when he calls her 'Midget']

He is an absolutely scary and terrifying man, but if there's someone who dares to speak on his bullshit, he'd start to look at them with interest. I suppose he needs someone that's level with him in control, so that he knows that he's safe with them.

My point is, you cannot get Ghost's trust. You have to earn it, let him give it to you. Ghost's trust is very very hard to earn, but when you have it, you know he'll be the most loyal and caring man in the world.

[otomotoelzhinee]

Rewatched the new MW ep, this time with my older brother. He was absolutely blown away by it💖

We both agreed the detail of the Agari working exactly like mushrooms in real life, with their intricate connections between one another and the way they produce these "waves" to communicate with eachother, was great. He's a fan of mushrooms so it was his favorite part of the episode, besides the animation and the comedy.

I also gotta add that the story of the Agari did get to me this time around, I felt goosebumps watching them struggle to keep themselves together. Overall, despite some minor criticisms I still hold towards the ep, it's great. I'm happy I was able to enjoy it so much this time around.

[anunhingedme]

broooo..this is soo freaking cool!!!

[wjehfshs]

Hey just wanted to come on here and say I’m gonna stop taking requests for the mean time. The last 10 months, and currently have been incredibly hard on me and I don’t want to continue to disappoint people with either my extremely late response to things or no response at all. I’m finding it hard to keep up with a lot of everyday stuff so I for now want to take one less stress off. I’ll still be active on here and maybe writing the occasional small thing but no requests for now. I will also maybe post polls but I cannot keep up with questions and requests. Sorry. I will close my ask box until I feel like I am better able to manage myself and this <3

[shkspr]

girls will be like "why are my eyelids so dry" my brother in jewish you spend three hours a day crying

[vamossainz55]

i think carlos can have a public playboy era as a treat but only if i can be allowed to take part in it😁la que no es puta no disfruta

“La que no es puta no disfruta” 😭 no se que decirte excepto que estoy de acuerdo. hes only allowed to if im part of it too 🤭

[weird-god666]

YALL!!! Do you like Animation?

Do you like Indie Animators? Who are under 18?

WELL TODAY IS YOU'RE LUCKY DAY!!! YOU CAN GIVE ME MONEY TO HELP ME MAKE MY OWN SHOW!!!

(I'm Doing Coms on there aswell btw)

Reasons Why you should give me money:

I'm a young person with a bright future in Animation

The show has Queer and Racial Rep

This is my life's work

All money goes to Midnight Waffers, My show

I might let a fan voice a character if they pay like 100 or smtg

I might have Autism, so you would be helping a disabled person

You can also buy Commisions!

It would make my day

Thank you everyone!!!

[moe-broey]

AAAÀAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUHHGBGHGHGGHGGHGGHVHHBHHHGAHHABH

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

Interview with Mark Webber after the Australian GP in 2010

[hiddenwashington]

anonymous said : mwf from the resident evil series ?

the resurgence of resident evil characters is giving me life !! but we would absolutely love love love to see cassandra dimitrescu, mother miranda, rosemary winters, donna beneviento, mia winters, eveline, jill valentine, zoe baker, or claire redfield!!

[reasonsforhope]

"Heat stored underground in caverns can be set aside in Finland’s summer months to be re-used during frigid winters thanks to a state-of-the-art ‘seasonal energy’ storage facility.

Slated for construction this summer near Helsinki, it will be the largest in the world by all standards and contain enough thermal energy to heat a medium-sized city all winter.

Thermal exchange heating systems, like those built underground, or domestic heat pumps, are seen as the most effective way available of reducing the climate-impact of home heating and cooling.

Their function relies on natural forces or energy recycling to cool down or heat up water and then using it to radiate hot or cold energy into a dwelling.

In Vantaa, Finland’s fourth largest city neighboring the capital of Helsinki, the ambitious Varanto seasonal energy storage project plans to store cheap and environmental friendly waste heat from datacenters, cooling processes, and waste-to-energy assets in underground caverns where it can be used to heat buildings via the district heating network whenever it is needed.

In Finland and other Nordic countries, the heat consumption varies significantly between seasons. Heat consumption in the summertime is only about one-tenth of the peak load consumption during the cold winter months.

Varanto will utilize underground caverns equal in space to two Maddison Square Gardens—over a million cubic meters—filled with water heated by this waste heat and pressure that will allow the water to reach temperatures of up to 300 degrees Fahrenheit without the water boiling or evaporating.

“The world is undergoing a huge energy transition. Wind and solar power have become vital technologies in the transition from fossil fuels to clean energy,” says Vantaa Energy CEO Jukka Toivonen.

“The biggest challenge of the energy transition so far has been the inability to store these intermittent forms of energy for later use. Unfortunately, small-scale storage solutions, such as batteries or accumulators, are not sufficient; large, industrial-scale storage solutions are needed. Varanto is an excellent example of this, and we are happy to set an example for the rest of the world.” ...

“Two 60-MW electric boilers will be built in conjunction with Varanto,” adds Toivonen. “These boilers will be used to produce heat from renewable electricity when electricity is abundant and cheap. Our heat-producing system will work like a hybrid car: alternating between electricity and other forms of production, depending on what is most advantageous and efficient at the time.”

... Construction of the storage facility’s entrance is expected to start in summer 2024, while it could be operational as early as 2028."

-via Good News Network, April 12, 2024. Video via VantaanEnergia, March 10, 2024