#the daily mail/staircase | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redorich · 3 years

Note

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine!

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

561 notes · View notes

lastsonlost · 3 years

Text

Monica Young always dreamed of being a teacher despite grim school years

She claims she was bullied, sexually assaulted and ostracised as a teenager

And yet, she went on to sexually assault a 14-year-old three months into teaching

She claims boyfriend at the time was abusive and his family didn't accept her

But he says the allegations are false - and even vows to still 'be there for her'

Monica Young always dreamed of becoming a teacher despite years of classroom bullying, sexual abuse in the playground and struggling with her grades.

And yet, within three months of landing her dream role at an all-boys school in Sydney's southwest, she started to groom and sexually abuse a 'vulnerable' 14-year-old boy.

The 24-year-old was sentenced in the New South Wales District Court on Wednesday after pleading guilty to three counts of aggravated sexual intercourse with a minor.

Throughout the proceedings, the court heard details of her lonely six years of high school, beginning in grade seven when she was sexually assaulted by a peer.

There was little sympathy for the convicted child abuser as she was led to her cell on Wednesday to begin her four year and nine month sentence, but Judge Kate Traill told the court she was given an insight into the root cause of the offending.

Young struck up a relationship with the boy at the school where she was employed as his teacher, groomed him online and eventually encouraged him to have sex with her - on and off campus - on several occasions.

He was too young to give consent and has since told the court the offending ruined his life.

The boy was forced to drop out of school after his peers found out, and his relationship with his brother, parents and extended family has been strained by the proceedings.

The court heard that Young admitted to knowing the feeling. When she was aged 12 and in grade seven, a boy of a similar age sexually assaulted her by pulling her by the ponytail to his crotch area, and holding her face there.

She reported the assault and the boy was subsequently expelled from school.

But her peers, she claims, bullied her incessantly for 'being a snitch' after the assault and the court heard Young struggled to make any friends at school in the years to follow.

One of her only friends came when she was in year 12 and studying for her HSC with dreams of becoming a school teacher.

The friend was a boy two grades younger than her who repeated year 10 because he struggled academically. He sought her out and what begun as a tutoring dynamic developed into a close friendship.

Eventually the duo became involved romantically, but his traditional Lebanese, Muslim family never approved.

Young agreed to a bureaucratic conversion to Islam in an attempt to gain their trust and with that came concessions for the relationship. She was able to begin sleeping in the same room as her partner and travelling away on holidays together.

They later got engaged and Young was again on the outer with his family, the court heard.

A traditional Islamic ceremony took place, but the court heard the union is not recognised in Australian law.

Young's lawyer claims the relationship soured when her partner began cheating on her, took control of her finances, isolated her from friends and family and 'became abusive'.

He denies the allegations, telling Daily Mail Australia he has 'the utmost respect for women' and only ever treated Young the same way he would want his mother or sister to be treated in a relationship.

Despite the serious claims levelled against him, Young's ex maintains he will continue to offer her support even while behind bars - and despite the fact that she is now single.

But he won't be paying her a visit any time soon, acknowledging inmates get little time to accept visitors and that her immediate family deserve priority access to her.

The court previously heard that Young was not particularly bright, exemplified by her Higher School Certificate ATAR score of just 44.

That mark is just 14 points shy of a 'mystery mark' - a black dot which is generally issued on the testamurs of students who score 30 or below.

Most teaching degrees in Australia have a minimum ATAR acceptance ranking of about 65, but schools have been known to accept lower scores in recent years.

Young's lawyer, Margaret Cunneen SC, previously told the court she would not be considered a 'mature person' for somebody her age and struggled to develop both academically and socially.

Read the raunchy texts Young sent her victim begging for sordid hook-ups before having sex with the boy in the school's stairwell - and even a classroom while the rest of the year nine class watched DISNEY

Young initiated contact with the boy on Snapchat, sending him a message which asked him to 'send pics' in exchange for provocative photos of herself, the NSW District Court's agreed set of facts reveal.

She would also FaceTime the year nine student as she performed sex acts on herself.

Young struck up a relationship with a boy who she taught six times a fortnight in geography, PDHPE and science when they began communicating closely because of the Covid lockdown which shut the school.

On one occasion, she messaged him asking him to hug her at school the next day, and when he didn't, she sent a follow up accusing him of 'not having the balls'.

The dare became a frequent tactic Young used to convince the boy to lure the boy into sexual liaisons.

On another occasion, she sent a message which read: 'It's dangerous if we get caught, but if you do it it'll be worth it'.

The duo exchanged messages about the sex acts they wanted to perform on each other, with Young initiated the 'sexting' on several occasions.

The most brazen of her offending occurred inside the school's classrooms, once where she messaged her victim to meet him in an English room to perform a sex act on him, and a second time where she groped the boy at the back of the classroom while the rest of the year nine class watched Disney movie, WALL-E.

During the movie, a friend of the boy even sat on the other side of him as the sex act took place.

The victim was also encouraged to lie about his whereabouts, telling his mother on one occasion he stayed back late at school to get help on an assignment, and even skipped afternoon classes to spend time with Young.

On the last day of school, the duo met on the staircase at 3.20pm to kiss goodbye, and Young performed oral sex on the 14-year-old.

She then returned to the staff room, the statement of facts read.

When she finally landed her first job at an all boys high school in Sydney's southwest, she was a new graduate specialising in PDHPE, a coveted role among teachers.

Instead, she was assigned 23 geography classes, with a smattering of science and PDHPE classes.

When she took to the stand during her sentencing hearing two weeks ago, she admitted to being overwhelmed by the workload.

Young didn't want to admit she was struggling and ask for help, so she did her best to stay one page ahead of her students by studying the textbooks and teachers' notes each night before class.

Within three weeks, the Covid pandemic closed the schools and Young, along with all of her students, was forced online.

It was during this time that the line between student and teacher was 'criminally blurred', and after years of struggling to bond with people her own age, Young claims she befriended her victim.

But there was no 'friendship'. The boy admitted in a victim impact statement supplied to the court that he never expected Young could hurt him and that he learned to trust her.

To him, she was the 'cool' teacher.

She sought him out on Snapchat and the relationship progressed from there. At one point, there was a group chat between Young, the victim and his friend, the court heard.

They had sex on multiple occasions between June 24 and July 6 2020, including at least twice on the school's grounds and once in her car at a local park.

On one occasion, she messaged him asking him to hug her at school the next day, and when he didn't, she sent a follow up accusing him of 'not having the balls'.

The dare became a frequent tactic Young used to convince the boy to lure the boy into sexual liaisons.

Teenage sexual abuse victim reveals how his life was 'ruined'

In a victim impact statement read to the court, the boy described how his relationship with his brother, parents, only friend and cousin deteriorated when they found out about his relationship with Young.

The boy said he 'feels like a failure who let his entire family down' and has only recently realised the extent of the abuse.

'He says the offender has ruined his dreams… ruined his school and his relationship with his family and friends and trust in others and ruined his life,' Judge Traill said.

The court heard the boy constantly hears his parents bicker and blame each other for not noticing the abuse sooner.

His brother 'hates him for embarrassing him in front of his friends at school' and the victim says he can no longer go on family holidays due to a strained relationship with extended family.

The victim never returned to the school he once loved because all of his peers were aware of the court case, and he is now enrolled at TAFE, despite once having aspirations of becoming a physiotherapist.

'He struggles to smile about anything anymore,' the court heard.

On another occasion, she sent a message which read: 'It's dangerous if we get caught, but if you do it it'll be worth it'.

The duo exchanged messages about the sex acts they wanted to perform on each other, with Young initiated the 'sexting' on several occasions.

During the movie, a friend of the boy even sat on the other side of him as the sex act took place.

On the last day of school, the duo met on the staircase at 3.20pm to kiss goodbye, and Young performed oral sex on the 14-year-old.

At the beginning of her sentencing hearing, she tearfully told the court: 'I just never imagined I'd be one of those people… I've never been in trouble with the law. I hope he and his family can forgive me.

'I was foolish.'

She wrote an apologetic letter to the victim and his family in which she said she regrets letting the relationship progress and understands that both her victim and his family will carry the trauma of the offence 'for the rest of their lives'.

'I knew it was wrong, I knew my actions were inappropriate but I couldn't let myself believe it,' she said. 'He trusted me and I abused that trust.'

On Wednesday, the court agreed.

Judge Kate Traill described her offending as a 'violation of trust' before delivering her sentence. Young will be eligible for parole on October 31st, 2023.

'[You] exploited his vulnerability and manipulated him,' Judge Traill said.

Young was ultimately sentenced to four years and nine months' custody, but with time served she will be eligible for parole in a little more than two years.

She will never be employed as a teacher again, and Judge Traill acknowledged she would need to be reintegrated into the community and her life post-sentence.

'But for these very serious offences she is a very impressive young lady… she was in a very bad relationship and made very bad decisions,' Judge Traill said.

233 notes · View notes

bonelessghoul · 3 years

Text

Saint of the Shadows |2|

summary: During a job the Crows set out on in Dime Lion’s territory, their success comes with a price when Estella is hurt. But that is the least of the her worries when the memory of her brother haunts her sleep, warning that her story in Ketterdam may almost be over.

pairing: kaz brekker x OC

word count: 6.6k

so I know my first part didn’t really get much attention but for those who requested a part two, here it is! Things will certainly be picking up in part 3 but I hope this was a nice balance of things to keep you all waiting for the next part :)

After a restless night, Estella rose with the sun and made her way to the Crow Club before it was scheduled to open.

She always picked up her morning coffee from a small café settled along the canal, taking that route down to the Crow Club to enjoy a few moments of solace before the daily hustle and bustle of Ketterdam started. There was nothing but the sound of bells from the harbor echoing through the streets and the steam of her coffee masking the smell of charcoal and days old trash.

When Estella entered the club, a few of the Dregs came by as early as she did to dust off counter tops and set up all of the tables to be ready for the evening.

“Morning everyone.” Estella greeted, sliding behind the bar.

There were a few tired hello’s thrown back at her, but it was Rotty who came sprinting up to her with eagerness and she was still a little too tired to tolerate it.

“Morning, Rotty.” she yawned.

The man handed her a small stack of envelopes. “Morning, Estella! How are you doing on this fine morning?”

“I’m fine. Why are you so excited?”

Taking the envelopes, she placed them down with her coffee and started wiping down the bar area that was still stained with sticky rings of glasses that were sat there the previous night.

“Oh, no reason. I’ve been hearing a lot of whispers about some interesting stuff going on. Know anything?” he asked enticingly , his words as fast as his ridiculous hand motions.

Estella had to pause, raising a brow at him. “And how would I know about anything going on?”

Rotty shrugged. “I don’t know, you seem to know everything Kaz is up to nowadays. I tried asking him when he came in this morning but he sort of just kept walking by.”

“No one knows what Kaz is up to, not even me—wait, he’s already here?” she paused, glancing up the spiral staircase to his office door with a light on inside.

“Yeah, but—”

Estella picked up the mail and her coffee, walking up the wrought iron spiral staircase and not even bothering to knock as she stepped through the door. Kaz’s office was often her escape during the slow hours of the day and while he’d typically be brooding behind his desk, he was pacing all over the place with a paper in one hand and his cane in the other. Everyone else knew better than to just walk in, so he didn’t bother looking, already knowing she was the one who entered so easily.

“I’ve got mail and a very energetic Rotty up my rear end this morning.” Estella greeted, her eyes peering at the mess on his desk.

“You came back late last night.”

Estella, slightly taken back by his response, stopped mid step. “And you must have been up late., Mr.Brekker.”

Last night wasn’t something she did often, but it was tradition for her to stand on that bridge on the night Ketterdam celebrated the demise of the shadow summoner. She did it so that she could wake up as she did today without another thought of it, carrying on with business as usual.

Estella picked up her step again, noting how Kaz wore a dark patterned vest over his black collared shirt, tucked into a pair of trousers that fit the long legs that strode around the office. He may have looked neat to anyone else, but the way his brows were set deeper into their permanent frown gave her the impression that he was under some stress and the sun was barely even up yet.

She sat on the corner of his desk, paying no mind to him as his neatly combed hairs began to fall out of place as he stood by the board behind his office area. She placed her coffee down and began sorting through letters, recognizing some of the big names and the notices stamped on each letter, hinting that money was due.

“Bills are going up.” Estella sighed, thinking of where all their sources of income could be going wrong. “I really think we should stay more on top of the fifth harbor business, Rotty mentioned something last night about how the other gangs are pushing their limits and stealing some of our customers.

Kaz turned to face her, eyes narrowing as his pace slowed down to come towards her.

“I told you not to open my mail…” Kaz said, taking the envelopes she handed to him. “Or sit on my desk.”

Estella’s lip curved. “You always tell me to look at your letters and read them to you because you were trying—and failing miserably—to multitask and do a million other things.”

Kaz’s eyes flickered up to her as he took a seat in his chair, and Estella held his gaze, scooting away just a little bit to give him the room she needed but even then, her crossed legs were mere inches from his chair. The gesture of him sitting in close proximity to her was never one that sat easy in her mind. She never wanted to push Kaz’s boundaries, but she tried to remain neutral, allowing him to place himself wherever he felt comfortable and she also tried to not think too much of it. His eyes dropped from hers, following along her nonchalant posture as she sipped her coffee and read one of the other pieces of mail he received.

As her eyes scanned the paper with intent, Kaz saw a level of focus he only saw in himself when it came to Crow Club business.

Estella cared about the business, but Kaz was oblivious to the fact that she really just cared for him when he was neck deep in paperwork and business arrangements.

“Bills won’t be a problem after tonight.” Kaz said, clearing his throat to draw her attention. “I want you to pick up another one of the Dregs to hold down the bar tonight. I’m going to need your help with something.”

Estella perked up, a wide smile crossing her face. Perhaps now she shouldn’t have made fun of Rotty’s eagerness because now, she was doing the same exact thing.

“What’s the plan, Brekker?”

---

The job tonight would involve a large sum of money to be intercepted and finding the location as to where it could be picked was Estella’s task tonight.

However, it wasn’t as easy as it sounded because the package of money was supposedly heading straight into Dime Lion territory at the Emerald Palace. When the sun started to set, Inej and Estella were hidden in her small room tucked in the lopsided building that was the Slat.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Inej warily asked, standing before the mirror of her vanity.

Estella smirked at her friend in the mirror as she adjusted her wig and sickly green and gold attire.

“Comfortable? No.” she chuckled. “But I can blend in easily there thanks to the generous donation of one of the table workers.”

Inej took a deep, exasperated breath as Estella turned around to face her.

It was the Wraith who walked her through the proper steps of becoming appealing to guards, using her physical strengths to her advantage and to the guards weaknesses as well. She scanned the scene of the Emerald Palace only moments before returning with the girls uniform, a wig, and information on just how she needed to sneak in and which of the guards to talk to for answers on the incoming package of money.

“I will be waiting outside and Jesper will be hiding in the kitchen waiting for you to bring in one of the guards. The others will be scattered around the perimeter with Kaz. The second you find out where this money is coming from, you get out of there.”

“I know the plan. I need everyone else to be calm so I can be calm.” Estella pressed, crossing her arms.

Inej smiled warily. “I know, I know.” she sighed. “Ready to go then?”

Estella was only perfect for the job because she was merely a bartender, never once scene with the Crows in their usual affairs.

Even if the Dime Lion’s had spies of their own, there was a small to none chance that any of them ever paid her much attention.

Walking alone in the shadows of the canal in her glittering green silks, the plan was played over and over again in her head and for a moment, she even prayed to the silly Saints Inej put so much of her faith in. She’d be lying if she told them there wasn’t a sickening feeling to her stomach, but the itchiness of the dark red wig she wore was enough to distract her.

Rotty’s whispers of information were right, and it turns out that a merchant was going to be paying Pekka Rollins for any Grisha or “exotic” women to be brought to him as indentures.

Everyone knew what that really meant and just how illegal the truth behind it was, but for some reason, the Emerald Palace was a magnet for women under that category.

Estella played the part well as she ran towards the back entrance, claiming she was running late because her clothes had gotten caught on some metal on her walk.

The guards rolled their eyes and allowed her in.

The first part was complete, and it wasn’t until she was in the Emerald Palace that her nerves were rattling with the act she had to put on.

Everywhere she looked there was green décor and fake trees, shimmering with the gold that was plastered over them. She slipped in and out of the crowds, batting her eyelashes as she was told to do, and it sickened her even more so she kept the prize on her mind. One of the girls had shoved her to the tables where a crowd was waiting, being scolded for being late.

Think of the prize, Estella.

Given her time at the Crow Club, Estella worked the tables well as if she were a Dime Lion herself. She would sway the guards to take a break and play a round, funneling them with drinks and giving her time to seek out the weakest link that Inej had informed her about.

There was a young man, one of which was standing by the back doors earlier.

He was roughly her age, taller and frailer, reminding her of Jesper but without the guns. This was the one Inej had found, saying that this one’s curly brown hair was too messy, and his eyes were too shy to be intimidating like a true Dime Lion but he was working his way up the ranks. It was those same eyes though that Estella caught onto, calling him out frequently in the game and slipping something Kaz provided her with to make him a little more willing to spill information later.

“Hey!” one of the Dime Lion’s hissed, clasping his hands on the shoulders of the boy who jumped out of his skin. “You’re supposed to be in the back.” she overheard him say.

It appears that tonight’s job was apart of proving himself and she was in the clear.

But it was the middle of the game she was leading, and Estella hopelessly watched as the boy hurried off, glancing back every few seconds to find where he was off to.

In a panic, she pretended to knock over a guests drink onto her flowy green pants and cut the game short until someone could replace her. It was no surprise these people adored her and were upset to see her leave, and also like Jesper, she desperately wanted to keep these imbeciles going but quickly ran off to follow her mark.

Estella’s demeanor changed as she stormed away from the table, a rush that could only be felt while on these jobs rushing through her blood. Dare she say she was excited to flirt with and threaten this poor boy?

When she found him again, standing by a dark wooden door by the kitchens that lead to the canal in the back, he was chugging down water and looking like the little potion she slipped in his drink was working.

“Uh, you’re not supposed to be back here.” the boy stammered, nearly spilling his water.

“Why? You think a poor table girl like me is up to trouble?”

The boy looked around nervously and shrugged.

“T-trouble? No, I only meant—”

“I’m not here for trouble, I’m here for you silly.” Estella grinned, trying to hide her laughter as his face instantly reddened.

Oh, Jesper was going to have a fun time eavesdropping on this.

The weak little Dime Lion was like a dog on a leash, and Estella had a tight grip on it as she pulled him back into the kitchen area that was empty this time of night.. With the kitchen lights being low, Estella pushed him further and picked up one of the knives sitting upon the wooden counter tops and backed him into a corner.

“What are you doing?!” he cried, pathetic whimpers slipping through his lips.

Estella felt guilty as she watched the fear in his bulging eyes, but she pressed the blade to his neck, her body holding him against the wall and free hand clamped over his mouth.

“I’m sorry if this wasn’t you expected. I lied, I actually am here to stir a little trouble.” Estella admitted. “But you’re going to choose your next words carefully or else you will never be able to speak or breathe again. Understood?”

He frantically nodded and his cold sweat was slipping under her hand.

“Where is the shipment of kruge coming from tonight? How is it being delivered to the Emerald Palace?”

Estella slowly released her hand from his mouth, watching the boy stumble over his words as he shook beneath her.

“I don’t know nothing about no kruge, I was only told to watch the door so no one could come back during the delivery!”

“What’s your name?” Estella asked, letting out a small and impatient huff.

His face scrunched up in confusion. “It’s L-Louis.”

“Well, Louis, remember the part where I said you would never be able to breathe again? That meant you were going to dead. Dead, Louis.”

Louis began to cry and Estella rolled her eyes, growing irritated now.

“Come on, Louis. Gather yourself. Where is the kruge coming from?”

“The canal! At midnight, the canal will be entirely empty except for this shipment. It’s going to be disguised with crates of food for the bar.” Louis blurted out.

Taking a deep breath, Estella stepped back. “Saints, you are pathetic. Thank you for the help.”

Louis looked at her and the door, slowly taking his steps around her while pressed up along the country but she swiftly pointed the blade at his chest, just barely pressing the tip through his clothing.

“Also, if you scream about this, you’ll be the first one dead tonight, understood?”

He nodded and ran, and Estella had to act quick.

Dropping the knife, she ran towards the other exit in the kitchen and nearly screamed when she collided with the Zemeni boy waiting around the corner with a wide grin on his face.

“Might I say you are terrifying when you are wooing pathetic little boys? I was getting second hand embarrassment having to listen to him!”

Estella, all wound up and eager to escape the itchy wig and revealing silks, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let out a laugh.

“Let’s go. Now. We need to make it up the canal before it gets within sight of the Dime Lions.”

“Lead the way, darling!”

Estella took off running with Jesper close behind her, and as they walked out into the fresh air of the night, she was met with harsh sound of bullets firing in the dark alleyway between the Palace and the canal. They screeched to a halt, gun powder burning her nose and looking at a loss of where to go from here as they were on the wrong side of the crossfire.

A whistle drew their attention.

“Inej is over there. We have to make a run for it.” urged Jesper.

Estella’s main concern was the two guards by the back door who had their backs to them. They’d never make it past them as reinforcements started piling behind them.

“We won’t be able to get around them. We need a distraction and then we run. We’ll be without cover for a few minutes though, Jesper.”

Jesper looked down at her, shrugging with an unbothered look upon his face.

“You’re not going to like this and I’m not sure it will even work.”

Estella frowned. “Isn’t that how every plan goes?”

Without wasting another moment, Jesper suddenly wrapped his arm around her neck from behind and if he was attempting to scare the living daylights out of her by pointing one of his pistols to her head, she sure must have looked it.

“Stop! Stop the shooting and stop the nonsense!”

By some miracle, that worked and all the Dime Lions stopped and stared, scratching their heads as Jesper began to pull her by with slow and careful steps.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she whispered harshly.

“Shut up.” he hissed.

Estella was more in awe that they were walking along the canal without being fired at.

“I have here one of your finest table runners, not to mention, she’s a beauty. Now if you prefer I don’t blow her brains out and cause a scene that will surely prevent customers from fleeing to your tacky little palace, you let us go.”

The half dozen of them that stood there, glancing between each other, actually had to think about whether saving one of their own was worth it. In this moment, she hated every man in the world for how absurd this all was and wished Inej had been her escape route instead of Jesper. But as he began to shuffle in his pocket for something, she wondered what trick he had up her sleeve.

“Are we understood?” Jesper asked.

One of them cocked their gun.

“We can replace her.”

“Wrong answer!” Jesper shouted, covering her eyes as he threw something to the ground. “Run!”

There was a loud pang, and a bright flash of light she could still see between the Zemeni’s fingers. But Estella didn’t waste any time before she took off running down the path of the canal, guns firing at them from behind. She had to laugh out loud, the adrenaline being the only thing that kept her from wanting to scream at Jesper.

“What was that?!” Estella asked, ducking her head as they sprinted away.

“I don’t know! Something I won at a table!”

Even though they were mostly in the clear, a bullet managed to graze her arm, and she winced, not allowing it to slow her down as her entire right arm began to throb painfully. The air that breezed by them dried her tears though and the burning in her legs was enough to keep her from worrying about a simple scratch.

Jesper had called out to Inej that the package was further up the canal and her job was to inform the other Dregs running ahead of them so they could grab it.

Estella didn’t stop running until she made it to the Crow Club, her and Jesper nearly collapsing as they made it to the back entrance.

Her chest was heaving and she pressed herself against the brick wall, waiting for the others to come running to them with the crate of kruge in their hands.

“Hostage?” Estella breathed, her chest on fire as her heart slammed against her rib cage. “Really?”

Jesper, leaning on his knees under the small light above the door way, looked up at her.

“I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

Estella let out a laugh, spitting out the iron tasting saliva on the cobblestone before her.

“Sure, Jesper. Sure.”

They fell in silence after that, the only sound being their heavy breathing. For the time being, Estella didn’t mind the smell of the East Stave and the smog that huddled over it. But she couldn’t feel the satisfaction of a job well done just yet as much as she wanted to, their heads on a swivel as they waited for the Dregs and Inej to come running to them with the package. The more minutes that passed, the more wary they grew, and neither could speak until they knew it was there.

Was the canal boat a lie? Or perhaps a trap waiting? Estella thought of Kaz, knowing he was leading the Dregs to the kruge that Inej had given them word of.

Footsteps were heard shortly thereafter though, quite a few them actually, and Jesper cocked his gun as they looked down the direction of the dark alley they were coming from.

“It’s us.” said Kaz, emerging in the darkness.

Estella straightened up, no longer feeling the oncoming death that much running brought her, and her eyes instantly locked with Kaz. He nodded at her right away, assuring that everything was fine, and the faint smile that crossed his lips brought a wave of relief over her knowing that they got the money.

Had it been another lifetime, she would have even ran to Kaz’s arms.

“Oh, thank the Saints.” Estella laughed, leaning against the brick wall as she opened the door.

Inej led the other Dregs, carrying the crate as they stormed inside. There was another set of stairs that led to Kaz’s office and the handful of them trekked upwards to drop it off.

But the dread of looking at them from the bottom was disheartening on her.

Estella’s legs were burning, and fatigue was creeping up on her, being the last one inside and grasping the railing to pull herself up. Pain shot up her arm and she glanced down, unable to see the wound through the silky green blouse she wore. She’d patch it up later, she told herself. She wanted to see if the amount of kruge in the crate was worth it.

Once in Kaz’s office, she entered just in time to watch him open it with his cane and smiles were spread across everyone’s faces.

Well, except his, but that was expected.

The Bastard of the Barrel basked in his glory in his own way while everyone was chatting excitedly around him about how the ambush went. Jesper went on to tell everyone just how well Estella played her part.

“Jesper almost got us killed!” she cried out, laughing with the others.

They looked her way, teasing her about her attire and she wanted to argue back, but her words were failing her.

Estella’s ears started to ring. Her brows frowned in confusion, their words slowly drowning out one by one, and she had looked up to Kaz and then Inej who was already staring at her.

“Estella?” Inej asked, their heads turning on her.

All at once, everything caught up to her, and she suddenly became dizzy. There was no time to sit or catch her breath as stars danced across her vision, a nauseating feeling creeping up on her as the room began to spin. Estella tried to speak, her lips barely moving, and suddenly, everything became dark before she hit the floor.

---

Kaz had been staring at the box of kruge, proud of the job they had done tonight.

It was moments like these though he had wished to be alone and the thought of everyone cramming in his office made him itch under his own skin. He was about to send everyone off for the night, probably back to the Slat where they were bound to drink into the morning, when Inej had said Estella’s name with a worry he rarely heard from her voice.

Looking up, Kaz tensed, staring at the sickly pale girl before him who wobbled on her feet.

There was no thought to the way Kaz sprung forward around the crate, letting his cane fall as he instinctively reached out to Estella before she could hit the floor. With ease, as it may have looked to the others, Kaz swooped her up in his arms as pain shot up his leg from the sudden movement.

“Everyone get out!” Kaz barked out. “Inej, clear my desk.”

“But, Kaz—”

“Just do it!” he shouted, walking over to his desk that Inej had swiftly brushed everything off of.

Laying her down, Kaz’s eyes frantically searched her body until he found the blood soaking through the sleeve of her right arm. Only Inej and Jesper remained and now, as he stood looking down at her, Kaz felt frozen in place. The blood from her arm was pooling underneath of her and onto his table, and he thought he knew everything he had to do until he was faced with it.

To his relief, Inej grabbed a bottle of liquor and ordered Jesper to grab a medik kit from downstairs, holding pressure in the meantime.

“What happened?” Kaz asked, his voice betraying his composure.

“She was shot while we were running away.” Jesper answered, rushing to Estella’s side. “Saints, we ran nearly a mile and waited outside and not once did she even say a word.”

“Adrenaline has a funny way of doing that to people.” Inej said, urgently ripping off the sleeve of her shirt and pouring some of the clear alcohol over it. “She lost a lot of blood. I can get the bullet and—”

“Jesper can help.” Kaz interjected, his wild eyes looking at the Zemeni boy who nodded quietly.

Kaz looked at Estella’s face, white as the paper that had been sitting upon his desk only moments ago. He backed away, his stomach churning, and he turned around to look at anywhere else in the room that wouldn’t remind him of death.

That feeling returned; the waters fighting to swallow him whole, rotten and swollen bodies bumping into him as he desperately clung on for life. It was drowning him and Kaz squeezed his eyes shut, his ears beginning to ring, but it wasn’t enough to tune out the groans of pain he heard passing through her lips from behind him.

“Kaz, Estella will be okay.” she heard Inej say.

He didn’t know how long he had their back to them, those four words being the only thing that turned him around to face them once again.

Inej and Jesper stood there, blood stained upon their shirts and their chests rising and falling. There was an unnerving silence in his office now, but Kaz felt the water retreat from his thoughts, and he slowly stepped forward to see Estella. It was just Estella, not Jordie. There was pain etched on her face, and his eyes moved to her chest to watch it rise with the breath she took. It wasn’t pretty, but she was alive.

Estella was okay, but even then, he was still tense. He’d breath a little easier when he could see her sitting upon his desk with her morning coffee and his letters in her hand, not laying there with blood soaking her arm in that silly Dime Lion attire.

“I’ll get her out of it.” Inej said, sensing his distaste.

“I still think Estella could pull off the red hair. I happen to like red hair, actually.” Jesper observed, his humor barely cracking his own shaken expression.

Kaz’s face lips were set into a hard line, glaring at Jesper as he warily looked at Estella. In his opinion, she looked fine the way she was, and as he stared at her now, watching him grab her clothes from earlier, his chest was weighed down with the guilt of even putting her in this position tonight.

“Leave her here when she’s back in her clothes. It’s too dangerous to carry her back to the Slat for tonight.”

Inej nodded as she tilted her head, signaling Jesper to carry Estella to the small room Kaz had just through the small archway.

Kaz started to return some of the items to his desk, his eyes constantly flickering to the small pool of blood at the edge of the wooden table. When Jesper emerged from the room, he was silent, grabbing some cloth to wipe the blood away.

“Are you sure you want to stay here, boss?” Jesper asked, raising his brows at him.

Kaz slammed his papers down, his gloved hands gripping the edge of the desk and his head hanging low. He didn’t want her anywhere else ever again, but not even Kaz was that selfish, and knowing Estella, tomorrow she’d wake and run straight to the bar to make sure everything was ready for the day.

“I’m sure, Jesper. You and Inej can leave. I’ll take it from here.”

Jesper nodded, knowing not to question the strange relationship between Kaz and Estella and when Inej had returned her to her normal attire, the Zemeni quickly ushered her out.

“We’ll be back first thing in the morning.” she told Kaz, who merely nodded in response.

Once he was left alone, Kaz locked the door to his office and took his cane, walking back to his room to find her laying under the covers of his bed.

Kaz stood in the archway for a moment, noting how the color had returned to her face just a little more and how the pain in her closed eyes still remained. He wasn’t even phased by the fact that someone else was in his bed, and there was a shudder deep within him at the sight of it, but Estella was an exception though and there was an odd sense of comfort knowing that she was here instead of back at the Slat…even if it meant she was inserting her way into his personal space.

Estella did it day by day, and Kaz, for a brief moment, allowed himself to be selfish.

---

The grounds of the Little Palace were deserted, nothing but the freshly cut grass and a cold fog wrapping around Estella’s shoulder. Looking down at herself, she wore a black kefta adorned in silver markings. Looking behind her, the Little Palace stood in all it’s glory, a legacy in which she built. But it was empty looking, not a single soul to be seen.

Estella felt at home, like she were off to supervise the training of the newest Grisha or spend another night in the war room.

There was something perturbing though as she stood in the center of the lawn, and suddenly, the peaceful aura that let her believe this was real dropped.

“Even now, you still dream of the home you swore you never wanted to see again.”

The deep, amused voice of her brother sent chills down her spine and Estella spun around.

“Aleksander.” she gasped.

Like when they were children, Estella wanted to run into his arms and hug him, but this was not a dream and she felt it to her core that the cloudy white skies and the palace were not real.

He didn’t look much different, but then again, neither did she.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Iskra.” he grinned, the curve of his lips not meeting his dark eyes.

“Why can’t you let me be?”

In the shadow of her brother, Estella felt like a helpless child again, her voice betraying the notion that she too was as powerful as him. In his presence, she felt small.

Aleksander scoffed, laughing mockingly. “How long do you think your life in Ketterdam will suffice? How long before your little fairy tail ends?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Estella snapped, turning as her brother began to circle her. “Ketterdam is my home, the people are different now.”

“You may think you found a family, but how long before they find out just who you truly are? What will Mr.Brekker think?”

A darkness long stuffed away crawled through her veins, and Estella clenched her fists, the skies above her going dark. She was going against everything she’s taught herself, her power unruly after so many years buried, and her brother glared at her.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“Don’t you speak of him or anyone else. They’re my family now, more than you ever will be.” Estella snarled, her darkness growing around her.

But then, Aleksander raised his arms and in an instant, his own power was unleashed and in a split second he was able to show just how weak she was compared to him. The Little Palace disappeared, the skies became black, and Estella couldn’t even see the grass at her feet.

“You can pretend all you want, my dear sister, but you will not be able to play pretend for much longer.”

Estella woke with a gasp, shooting up in the bed she lay, and finding herself submerged in darkness with the faint glow of the night sky peering in through a window across the room. There was a terror of the dark that ran deep within her, rising to the surface and making her skin crawl as she squeezed her eyes shut. It was a terror caused by the fresh memory of her brother toying with her nightmares, and for a moment after she woke, she thought he’d be standing there now.

“Estella.” said Kaz, the silhouette of his figure appearing at the edge of the bed.

“Turn on the light.” Estella blurted out.

“Are you—”

“Kaz, just turn on the light!”

In an instant, the gaslit lantern flickered to life and then another by the archway of the room. Estella caught her breath, ignoring Kaz’s estranged look, and everything was catching up to her now from the pain in her arm to the dryness of her mouth. A cold sweat had broken out across her forehead, and she still refused to meet Kaz’s eyes as she was handed a glass of water. To her relief, Estella sunk bank into the bed.

Chugging the water down, only then was she able to take in the warm glow that showed she was in Kaz’s room at the Crow Club.

“Am I in your room?” Estella asked.

Kaz, nodding, took a seat beside her bed, leaning on his knees to look at her. Finally, she looked at him, too exhausted to pretend like she was fine and placed the glass on the side table. His eyes scanned her frantically, and she sighed. He looked at her like she would break any moment, and while maybe that was true, she didn’t want to be viewed that way with him.

“I had an odd dream.” Estella said dismissively, leaning back against the headboard, her hands brushing over the sheets. “What happened?”

“You were shot.” Kaz said flatly. “You didn’t feel it from the shock.”

“Did we get the money?”

Her memory was foggy, and when Kaz nodded, she recalled running away from the Emerald Palace, the bullet grazing her arm and making it back to his office where they opened the crate. That was the last thing she remembered—standing there and laughing with the Dregs in celebration.

But her eyes that bore into the soft bed sheets brought her back to reality.

“I can walk back to the Slat, I don’t want to intrude I—”

“Estella.” Kaz interrupted, leaning forward as if to stop her from fidgeting, but sinking back into his seat. “You’re staying here. You need rest.”

That, she couldn’t argue. The comfort of his bed was more than enough to distract her from the fact that it was his bed after all. Laying on her good arm, she sunk under the cover and pulled them up to her shoulder, staring at Kaz who looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle in ages. Only she could pick up on such details, the way his shoulders were tense under his shirt and his eyes wide with a fear that she didn’t understand. There was no one else she’d rather have waiting with her nor any other bed that she’d rather be in but her own.

The fatigue from running and being shot weighed her down, her eyes burning from her disturbed sleep. She struggled to keep them open now as she looked at him in the light of the lantern at his bedside.

“You don’t have to sit there all night, you know? I can’t imagine it’s comfortable.”

Kaz inhaled slowly and glanced around the room.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”

It had to be the middle of the night, if not the early morning already, and she wasn’t sure if the flickering of the candle was playing tricks on her or if Kaz truly looked that tired with the shadows under his eyes. But it was those eyes that kept staring down at her, taking note of everything to her dismay. Estella knew she probably looked a wreck.

“Maybe don’t stare at me like I’m fragile then.” Estella said tiredly, a weak smile on her face as she looked at him.

Kaz sighed heavily, his mouth covered by the palm his chin rested in.

“You’re not fragile you’re just…” he trailed off, leaning back in the wooden chair. “You just need to be more careful.”

Estella rolled her eyes, wondering what else Kaz thought to say other than that and she snickered softly to herself.

“I’d be more inclined to be careful if you were in this bed with me, Kaz Brekker.”

Estella’s eyes were already shutting, voice trailing off with a lazy smile on her face, taunting him with her flirtatious remarks even til her last breath. Not even the thought of her brother could haunt her anymore as she fell asleep with Kaz’s face being the last thing she would see until morning.

Kaz was grinning as he looked down at her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see it, but still wiping it from his face as quickly as it appeared.

The thought of crawling in next to her, the thought of being able to protect her at all costs was a thought that felt miles away buried deep beyond a thousand walls he couldn’t quite break through. Aside from his own aversion that shot down his urges to be more for her, Kaz knew that no matter what he did, Estella would always deserve more than he could ever offer. Kaz would burn down the city if it meant protecting those closest to him, but how could he do that if he always kept them an arm’s length away at all times?

Kaz thought back to every day since Estella’s been here, her little trips to his office becoming routine up until the day she would drink her morning coffee with him and bring him the updates he didn’t plan to read until later.

Everyone thought Kaz was insane with precision and being prepared for any turn of events, but Estella had a mind that he dared say worked quicker than his own at times.

Estella kept him grounded, and yet, Kaz could not think of a single thing he ever offered for her but a life of crime and putting her life at risk.

His gloved hand raised from his lap like it had a mind of its own, hesitating for a moment, before reaching out towards her face.

She’s alive, he had to repeat to himself.

Even now, as she slept peacefully under his watch in his own bed, Kaz struggled to overcome his own battles but forced himself to push back the long dark hair that had been matted down across her face. He could even feel her breath against his gloves, and the moment he grazed her skin, Kaz’s breath caught in his throat.

The waters were at bay, and not a single flash of the rotting corpses crossed his mind as he admired Estella.

It became one gentle motion as he brushed back her hair, not ever thinking his hands could be so delicate.

But as they began to shake, Kaz retreated into his seat, letting his own tiredness win for the night, having fallen asleep in the chair knowing she’d be there when he woke.

---

“Bring the amplifier in.”

Pekka Rollins sat in his green velvet chair, lounging with his feet propped up on his desk. His relaxed composure didn’t fool his guards, all of them standing edge after their boss had went on a violent rampage earlier. Someone had leaked the whereabouts of the kruge being transported to him tonight and after the shootout, Pekka clearly wanted more bloodshed.

Louis, that poor boy, his body was now floating in the canal out into the sea where the sharks would have him for breakfast.

A woman who had aged poorly in the confines of her indentured lifestyle in Ketterdam, was secretly roaming the Emerald Palace tonight and brought news that might have the power to turn the Dime Lion’s luck around.

Her head of black hair, graying at the roots hung low and it wasn’t until she was thrown down in the chair before Pekka Rollin’s desk that she lifted her head to look him down with her cloudy eyes.

“Now, tell me again what it was you found tonight.” Pekka said, leaning forward on his desk.

“You won’t believe me, but I felt the presence of a Shadow Summoner.”

Pekka’s face didn’t change, but instead, broke out into a laugh that no one else followed as they normally would have.

“A bloody shadow summoner? Is your Grisha power off its rocker tonight?” Rollins scolded, throwing his hands up as he leaned back in the chair.

The woman shook her head, glancing away.

“I don’t lie. It wouldn’t get me anywhere.” the woman shrugged. “Whoever stole your kruge tonight had a shadow summoner among them, but not a strong one. She was working the tables tonight in disguise as one of your women. I grabbed her hand, playing my part per usual. You don’t imagine that kind of darkness that can be felt with their kind.”

Pekka remained quiet at his desk, rubbing the hairs over his chin. For a moment, he entertained the idea that this was all true and that there was a living shadow summoner in Ketterdam. Everyone eyed him warily as he thought, that maybe, just maybe, the human amplifier was right. Whenever there was a Grisha in town, there was always a whisper of it.

But a shadow summoner?

“If what you say is true, then we won’t have to worry about a misplaced package of a few kruge.” Pekka said, more so to himself than his men.

The more he thought of it, the more enticing it became and a wicked grin crossed his lips.

“I want every single one of you on the streets looking for any word of a shadow summoner. Do whatever you have to do.” Pekka Rollins ordered.

He’d have his Grisha, and with that, would come a sum of money no other could match.

~~~

tag list: @thedelusionreaderbitch @rika90

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you

41 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 4 years

Text

Unbetrothed

Summary: Let me just say I am an American with no idea of how royal hierarchies work. Just made something up.

Governors are basically kings of the states they run with their own armies and mayors are dukes. Women are not allowed to work, only marry.

Dark MCU royal AU [but not really grey at best]

Sam Wilson x reader, dark Thor x reader [not really i don’t think. more like grey Thor]

Warning: attempted suicide, sex

----

"She's old Margret" your father huffed.

"Dear no I think you're being harsh" your mother defended.

You sat in the kitchen peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner as you listened to him complain.

"I most certainly am not! She is old. Way past her prime. Am I supposed to work myself to death to support her?" He grumbled.

"Her brothers have long sense left this house. Started families of their own. Making their own way about the world."

"Dear they are men. Made to labor. What would you have her do? You refused her education. She has little options"

Women were with few exception not allowed to work. If you were not aiming to be a nurse, maid, or teacher. Most girls stopped their education after they learned to read or their parents stopped paying for tuition.

"Well, I would have assumed she would have been long sense married by now. What would be the point in wasting the money on education?"

He would often complain after doing his monthly expenses. Paying for the loan on the house, paying to feed himself and his wife, but the extra cost of the spare mouth of a daughter drove him up the wall. He actually calculated how much extra money he would have if you were not there draining his savings. As if it would by him a cottage on a beach in the state.

A popper he was not but a frugal bastard he was indeed. Only spending extra if he could come out ahead in the end.

It was like this most days, the only time it wasn't were when your father stayed out to drink. Pouring his sorrows into a pint and from your mothers presumption whores.

"Joseph, from work, told me that the Governor's having a ball. Says that his son told him that they send all the army boys there, most bachelors the lot of them. You know those army folks are quick to wed." He told your mother. He had planned this out thoroughly it would seem. "Lets put some lipstick on this pig and send her off"

"She is not a cow you sell at market!" Your mother was outraged out the notion.

"Well Moo Moo Margret. She is going. If she doesn't find a suitor then she is out on the streets. Have the state worry for her."

"Dear you cant mean that. She is our blood." Your mother would do nothing more than speak of her disapproval.

"It's my mother's fault." He said as he walked to his favorite sitting chair. "She was a bit misshapen. Got her damn jeans from me. Swear if she didn't look like her I would deny her my name" your mother gasped loudly at the insult.

"She tried to marry the Wilson boy and you denied her! Now look at him, second in command of the states army."

"Well, I thought when she...uh" he paused to find the right word to say. "Bloomed she would bring better prospects."

When you were 14 you fell in love with Sam Wilson and he with you. Children of the same age, same culture and you two had become fast friends. He had always made you laugh and it was not uncommon to be betrothed at such a young age.

One day while playing by the creek he had pushed you against the old oak tree and kissed you. So innocent and sweet, but it only lasted a fraction of a second. You had stared at him with your eyes wide with shock and surprise.

"Y/N I love you. Marry me?" He had no ring just a wild daffodil half ruined from being hid within his pants pocket. You had hugged him so tight he teased that you almost broke his bones. You had loved him for ages and to have your best friend love you back was truly a delight any girl could ask for.

The day felt like a dream as you two lay in the field and talked of your future. How many children, where the house should be, what the wedding would be like. You hadn't even noticed that the sun was setting as the euphoria of your love took over.

Kissing him on the cheek with a promise to meet again tomorrow you rushed home. With a smile that would not falter.

"Mom! Mom!" You burst through the door.

"What is it girl? You're so loud. What is it?"

"Sam! He asked me to be his wife!" Barely able to catch your breath as you retell the events.

Your mother's sweet smile showed of her approval in the union. The excitement of telling your father made the hands on the clock drag. When you saw the cart finally drop him off you exploded through the door and rushed to tell him your joyous news.

But your joy was short lived. Sam's family was not the status that he wanted for you. He gambled that when you were to hit puberty you would attract hire quality suitors. To hedged his bets he pulled you from school and refused you out to see Sam.

The decision crushing you completely, your home had become your prison for over a decade. Only allowing out into the world to join your mother for her weekly shopping.

He broke you back then and thought nothing of it. Unmoved by your constant tears and sorrow. Eventually you cared not for the fancy things in life. Your hair unkept, your clothes unpressed and makeup was as foreign to you as the neighboring states. Your mother would often scold you for not putting out your best as to catch the eyes of a suitor. But what was the point?

You lived only in the fading memories of Sam. Replaying ways to have made things different. Your mother took pity allowing you stationary upon which to write. Sending him love letters, but sadly with no replies.

"Well I buying her a ticket to the governors ball. We have enough for a decent enough dress so get her ready." Plopping down he opened his smoking box to take out his pipe. Lighting it up with long puff signaling to your mother that the final word had been spoken.

Your mother with your fathers pocket book went all out. When he saw the receipts he almost had a stroke. He swore never again to make that mistake with your mother again.

Your hair, makeup and dress were all done for the affair. When she showed you the results in the mirror before you left with your father you swore someone had bewitched the mirror.

When you two arrived at the Governors estate your father pushed you to mingle. But you had not the heart for music and fun. Walking aimlessly about the crowded event until you spotted him.

It couldn't be could it?

Walking up to the man you presumed to be your long lost love you call out.

"Sam?"

It was him, adorn in his formal military uniform.

"Y/N?"

Your heart felt like it beat for the first time in ages. Swelling with joy tears almost fell from your eyes at the sight of your long lost love.

You hugged him instantly, but it took a moment before his arms reciprocated the gesture.

"I always wondered what happened to you. I even went to your house but I was always turned away"

"It was all my fathers doing. Did you receive my letters? My mother made sure to mail them daily, but I never got word back."

Even through your despair you had never stopped writing. Everyday even when your mind tried to insert logic you still wrote. You could barely spell and your mother was of no use in that matter, but that did not stop you.

"What letters?" He was at a loss and that is when your heart began to hurt a little at the betrayal of you're only ally.

Every shopping day your mother would buy you the most gorgeous letter paper to write to him with, only to never send them. But why?

"I wrote to you every day Sam I swear it" you were in denial. She wouldn't have done that. No never her. Not your mother.

"Honey who is this?" A beautiful woman appeared from his side.

"This is an old friend. Wanda this is Y/N"

She was so striking and much younger than you. "Oh hello he talks much about his youth here in this state, but I'm sorry I don't recall you." You could see her trying to recall a memory and even with the scrunch of her brow she was a sight.

What would you say to her? That you were his first love, first kiss, that he had proposed to you. That you still had the daffodil he gave. Now pressed in the holy book on the page that would have held your vows.

"I.." You looked at him. His smile was for her now. You were nothing, but a ghost playing among the living. "I went to school with him when I was much younger, but never completed." She smiled at you so pure and overflowing with love for him that it made you sick, but you forced yourself to mirror her.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Y/N.." She said through the loud music."but if you will excuse me I would love to dance with my fiancé." Pulling him away. As they departed what was left of your heart felt as if it had rolled in glass.

Every breath brought a pain and as your vision began to blur you saw your father approached with that look. That look that you had not the energy to deal with. So you took off. Walking swiftly through the crowded ballroom zigging and zagging not knowing where to go. You were boiling over, but you didn't want the world to see. For Sam to see.

As you scanned the massive room filled with people you spot a staircase that wrapped along the wall. You don't know why you went to it, but you did. Ascending the stairs as quickly as you could in your full dress. Tripping only twice on the petty coat underneath, but still able to stand up right. There were fewer people on this level, each in their own conversation of this or that. Taking a deep breath you decide to turn left. Passing awkwardly by the smaller groups of people before stopping at the door at the end of the hall.

The massive wooden door was unlocked when you tried the handle. Pushing it open you could see no lights. Entering the darkness of the room, the blackness poured over you then the tears fall before you could close it behind you. With your back pressed to it you slid down the door and on to the floor. The sound of the booming music from the band hiding you're sobbing from the world.

As you cried you felt the cold breeze of the night prickle your skin. Looking you see the sheer curtain dance in the wind the color of the moon light giving it a soft ghostly hue. Standing up you walked to it. Opening the curtain you found the window to actually be a small balcony.

Walking out to the banister at the end you stare up at the moon and the sight of it filled you with loneliness. A small part of you had held out hope that Sam still loved you, would come for you and you two would live out those childhood wishes from long ago. But he wasn't and your father would surely be tossing you out by the morrow.

You didn't know how, but somehow you had climbed over the railing. Staring at the earth below.

What was the point? You couldn't work, too old to marry. Born to be nothing.

"You shouldn't be here." A voice came out from behind the ghostly veil.

Turning your head you look back to see, but when you spotted him you only stared through him.

Holding on to the steel frame of the balcony you lean forward. Hoping that when you fall and kiss the ground that the pain would be swift. So you let go.

"No you don't"

He was fast. Catching your wrist before you descended. Looking up at him you could see him clearly now. The strain on his face had his veins busting through his flesh as he pulls you back up and over the banister.

He had pulled you so hard that he lost balance and landed on the floor with you on top of him.

Pushing yourself off his chest you straddled him. Your dress almost swallowing him whole. When he sat up he rubbed the back of his head and hissed. As he straightened himself, his height could not be ignored.

"Are you mad wo.." His words were cut off by the crashing of your lips to his. You just pressed them hard into his, your eyes shut tight as your fingers clasped the fabric of his formal uniform.

His hands came on to your shoulders and pushed you back. "They had told me these events were to be a prudish affair. Had I known women of this state were made of fire we would have united our states long ago." His strange accent had you gawking at him.

Your eyes fell to his uniform, the colors were all wrong. It was not of your state's formal wear, but anothers.

He kissed you this time, his tongue tickled your bottom lip the sudden wetness of it made you gasp and he took that opportunity to invade. Yours sat frozen in your mouth bewildered by the intrusion.

When his hands fell on your hip you yelped in his mouth. "Move for me" he said as his hands guided you back and forth on his lap. The friction of his pants on your bloomers was delightful. Moaning in his mouth your eyes shot open wide. Embarrassed by the foreign noise, but the man only chuckled on your lips.

Your hands released his clothes and wrapped around his neck. When he bit your bottom lip you bit his, when his tongue flicked yours you flicked his in turn. You let him guide you to every move. His hands fell from your hip, but you still kept the pace as the warm fuzziness of the feeling building in your core wanted more.

Placing his arms on your back he pushed you backwards on to the cold balcony floor while never breaking his kiss. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you felt him press you into the unforgiving floor with your dress the only bit of comfort to it.

He pulled away again making you whimper. His smile looked so devilish as he stared down at you. "Your pure aren't you girl."

Your ears felt hot as his eyes looked upon you. "Yes" it came out almost as a whisper.

He bit his lip almost fighting off a bigger grin. Moving his hands from your back one hand glided atop your dress. Grazing both breasts before hooking his in it. Pulling the fabric down allowing your breast to bounce free in the night air. His warm palm overtaking the circumference of one breast filling your body with more fire.

Bending down you closed your eyes to receive a kiss, but it never came. His wet mouth latched onto your exposed bosom, making you pant. The flicking of his tongue drove you mad with wanting. His soft lips kissed each breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth. "Your flesh is sweeter than any honey I've ever tasted." His rugged voice sent you soaring to the heavens.

Bunching up your dress his hand moved slowly up your thigh. Stopping at your bloomers. "What do you want little dove?" He looked down at you again. Waiting for your answer.

Was this what Sam does to Wanda?

For whatever reason your mind could not picture him this way. So your mind drifted, thinking of the women of the night. The women that lived for the night as you are now. Your mother had spoke often about loose women. Whores she would call them. Good for nothings seen as no more than the corrupters of men souls. That’s why she never blamed your father for his misdeeds. You wanted to be a corrupter of men, to hold a power over them. Seeing as giving them power had brought you no joy in this world.

"I want to be a whore" at your words his smile dropped and a hunger unfamiliar to you grew upon his face.

Hurriedly pulling your bloomers down you could hear a growl from him. As if by the moon he would change into a wolf right before your eyes. His focus strayed from you but for only a brief moment as he fiddled with his own attire.

He lay between your spread legs poking at your muff with a rod harder than the floor that ached your back. "Then my whore you shall be" without another word he forced himself into you.

The pain and discomfort had you screaming into the night. Pushing him off, but he held steadfast deep in you up to his hilt. Tears prickled your eyes as the pain felt unbearable. Lifting your legs onto his shoulder allowed him deeper still and you felt too full.

"Please sir it hurts" you hissed. Your eyes pleading up at him.

"Not for long my dove" His hips slammed against you with such forced that you tried to crawl backwards away. But with his hands on your shoulder he locked you in place. Each time his hips slapped yours it sent jolts throughout your body.

Your mewls mixing with his groans while the music played from the ball down stairs. "It hurts!" Your voice quakes as he continued his punishing thrust. Your breasts jerking harshly from his movements while your legs try and force him off, but he went on undeterred.

"My..dove.. sing for me" and you did with every thrust.

Your back arched off the unforgiving ground as you felt your cunt stretched beyond its limits to receive him. Your nails dragged along his coat sleeves, snagging on badges here and there.

The pain of him faded into a wave of ecstasy. "More please" you panted.

"Does..my..dove..love.. my..cock" he teased as he watched your face transform from pain to pleasure. Hitting your core harder with each word, moaning deeply as he filled you.

"Mmm so-so good." You moaned. The pressure from him electrified your whole body. You could feel every inch of him and you wanted more.

"A whore..only for...me" he groaned. His chest pressed into your legs as his movements grew wilder. Your body felt a buzz, your flower so alive, clenching feverishly around him. His member started twitching, flexing inside of you and filling you with more warmth and wetness.

"Such a good little dove" he praised.

When he stopped he gave your lips one last kiss before falling over to your side. Your legs flopped to the floor landing with a thud shaking like a leaf in the wind. Turning your head to him, you examined the glistening features of his face.

"Who are you?" You panted out half exhausted.

As he began to speak the door creaked open in the distance.

"Y/N!" Your fathers voice shouted out. You sat up with a cold splash of reality hitting you.

When your father came into the room he had only seen the aftermath. A compromising position that sent him into a tizzy. Racing over to you he grabbed your for arm pulling you from your savior.

Pulling up your top and cleaning off your dress you prayed he had not noticed your very bare chest in the confusion.

"What are you doing who is that?" He roared furiously. "Speak"

*Smack

His slap faded into the nights air. He must be getting older, much more older than you thought him to be. His strikes barely fazed you now, but you held your face as if it still held the same power as they used to have.

"What were you thinking you stupid girl? Your chastity is you're only saving grace." He was furious. "I can't believe my own daughter a whore."

"Ah heeeehhhmmmm" the stranger cleared his throat behind you. His height towering over you and your father.

"Excuse me sir, but in my state we do not take Kindly to the striking of innocent women."

"And who are you to speak to me in such a ways army boy?"

"I'm lieutenant Governor Thor Odinson of the Asgardian state. New allies of your Governor's state."

Your father's eyes widened in shock as did yours.

"We were just admiring the constellations as we are ought to do in my state. Isn't that right milady?"

Your father looked to you to answer while Thor shot you a knowing wink.

"Well if you would excuse her intrusion sir, but she is supposed to be finding a suitor not laying about star gazing" he spoke nervously.

Pulling you out of the room by your arm as Thor faded into the darkness.

"What happened to your face girl you look a sight?" He said annoyed. "Go to the mirror and fix yourself" he pointed to a mirror along the wall right before the entrance to the room. "Had someone else spotted you, you would have been thought a harlot for sure" he huffed.

Hurrying away you rush to the mirror all the while you felt Thor's seed snake down your leg.

#sam x reader #dark thor x reader #black writer

107 notes · View notes

adamantiumdragonfly · 3 years

Text

“...A time when the United States is what we fight for...”

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military grade pencils and scraps of paper. Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she’s left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover’s voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

taglist: @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @jamie506101-deactivated20210209 @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @easy-company-tradition @pxpeyewynn @50svibes

No Ordinary Time

When the doorbell rang at the Grisham Hall for Ladies, it was a house-wide thrill, shivering down the very spine of the building and sending chills into every resident. A doorbell ring, with its chime calling every girl to their feet in a downward flight, could mean one of two things: a visitor or a postman. Visitors, particularly of the sought after male variety, were scarce since the war had been put on to boil some three years previously. Now, with the residents tending home fires and not the flaming passions of suitors, a postman was more likely. A postman, or rather post-boy, were the only kindling to the fires of romance.

But, on a dim March morning with the sky heavy and ready to bleed, the doorbell had been run and so began the usual stampede of pumps on hardwood floors. There should have been only two possibilities and yet, Jeannette Edwards wasn't a postman or anything that the anxiously awaiting faces expected. She had rung the bell and stepped back in surprise and a tiny bit of fright at the fervor and hunger that met her behind the door wrenched from it’s frame by a seemingly harmless girl.

She shouldn’t have been so ferocious of a predator as she seemed, this little thing with short brown hair and a dickie color edged in red ribbon but Jeannette stepped back all the same. This hadn’t been what Jeannette had expected either.

Grisham had come highly recommended, as a good, upstanding place for good, upstanding girls. Jeannette thought she had fit that description rather well and had packed her things in the carpet bag she now clutched tightly in one whitened fist. Could this carpet bag that had first belonged to her mother be used as a weapon to fend off this frightening girl and her hungry eyes?

“You aren’t Davis,” The girl huffed and moved to shut the door. Jeannette hadn’t come all the way from Hughestown to be turned away by someone looking for a Davis but she didn’t move fast enough.

A hand, surely one of God’s angels come down from heaven, stopped the door before the girl could shut Jeannette out from her new home.

“Sorry about that,” The hand’s owner said. She might as well have been an angel as she pushed the door open again, giving full view of her face. Not nearly as intimidating as this little rabid creature before her but there was something in her dark eyes that didn’t set Jeannette completely at ease.

“Oh,” Jeannette said. “That’s quite alright.”

“It isn’t really. Bess turns into a monster when she hasn’t heard from her beau in a few days,” The girl said, tossing her long black curls over her shoulder. She wore them loose, a stark contrast to the tight pins in the other girl, Bess’s, locks of chestnut brown. “Sorry you had to be in her path.”

“Who’s Davis?” Jeannette stammered, gripping her carpet bag tighter and trying not to wobble in her too big pumps. She had bought them before the war, when she had still been hopeful that she’d grow to fit them. But with spending frivolously unpatriotic and her shoe size stubbornly remaining, Jeannette had been left with loose pumps and aching feet.

“THERE HE IS!” Bess leapt past Jeannette, brushing her roughly in her flight off the wooden porch and flying into the dripping rain. She wore no shoes and her bobby socks were soaked on the puddled pavers as she ran towards the approaching youth in a yellow raincoat.

“Davis is the mail carrier.” the dark haired girl explained. “He was running late today. We get antsy when we don’t get our letters. I’m sorry I don’t think I-”

“Jeannette.” She extended her hand. “Jeannette Edwards.”

Those dark eyes studied her, flicking over her navy blue hat into which her frizzy tomato red hair was tucked, all the way down her too big pumps before shaking Jeannette’s outstretched hand. “Estelle Tran.”

Behind those dark eyes lay a studious mind that wrote down every variable and equation the world threw at her, bringing up the final unfair sum and accepting it as fact. Estelle was a woman of facts, something that Jeannette rarely dealt in.

The idea of chasing a mail carrier down flooded steps to retrieve a sought-after letter had never once crossed Jeannette’s mind but it seemed these girls found it a daily occurrence. Jeannette’s gaze was cast to the left of the doorway where the mailbox was hung, the address and the name of the establishment emblazoned on the wood in cut out letters.

“I’m sorry, I believe I came to the wrong place,” She said, gesturing at the box where the “I” had been replaced by a mystifying “E”. “I’m looking for Grisham Hall,”

“Oh you are in the right place,” Bess jogged back up the path, her stockings slapping against the stone pavers like webbed feet. “We knocked the ‘I’ off and had to make do. Grisham, Gresham. It’s all the same, really,”

“Jeannette Edwards,” The redhead pushed her hand forward, offering it to the creature who had been ready to shut her out in this damp cold. Bess seemed in better spirits now, a wad of letters in her hand.

“Elizabeth Ferguson,” Her bobbed brown hair bounced against her cheeks as Elizabeth leaned forward to take Jeannette’s hand. “You can call me Bess, Beth, I really don’t mind. Crops good this week,” Bess turned to Estelle and waved the mail under her companion’s nose.

“Stop waving and let me look,” Estelle plucked the letters from Bess’s hands, holding them out of reach as the brunette leapt for them.

“Hang on,” Bess cried, trying in vain to reach the envelopes. “Two of them are for me.”

When the correspondence had been returned to their rightful recipient, Bess squealed and darted back into the house, sliding across the foyer in her slick stockings.

“Better wake Connie and Margo,” Estelle called over her shoulder as she sorted through the last of the letters. She turned to go inside but paused, as if remembering that Jeannette was there, out in the drizzling rain and the damp air. “You are looking for Grisham Hall, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “I’m-”

“The new tenant,” Estelle finished for her. “Mrs. G told us. Come on then,”

Allowing herself to be waved inside, Jeannette cast her gaze around the foyer of cherry-stained wood and bright electric lights, a stark contrast to the gloom and doom of the world outside. The scent of lemon cleaner that hung in the air was the same brand that Jeannette’s mother had used in the houses she cleaned. A strange connection between the hills of Pennsylvania and the riverside of Virginia that was a comfort as much as a weight. This house was far too clean to be anything from Jeannette’s home and it fit the bill for good and upstanding. This house was the picture of American dreams and patriotism with it’s large staircase and adjoining room for a grand piano and little else.

Jeannette hung back as Estelle pushed her way further into the house as if she wasn’t stunned by the cherry-wood and lemon cleaner. Those too big shoes looked foolish and the wish for a pair that fit was unpatriotic in this bright house with it’s star banner in the window. Shuffling her feet, Jeannette cast her gaze down.

“Mrs G!” Estelle shouted. Deep from the belly of this house, came a faint response.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Estelle waited for Jeannette to follow her through the side door into a back hall, past the dining room set for an army and a sunroom that was dark under the storm brewing outside, and into the even brighter kitchen.

“Mrs. G, Ms. Edwards is here,” Estelle called and the woman at the counter turned away from the scraps of dough, her hands dusted in flour.

“I was expecting a call from the station,” Mrs. Grisham chided, wiping her hands across a spotless apron, sending a wince through Jeannette’s frame at the destruction of such clean linen. “We were going to send the car with Constance.”

“I took a bus and then a cab. It was no trouble,” Jeannette said. “I didn’t want to impose,”

Mrs. Grisham blustered and waved a hand, sending flour cascading into the air, assuring Jeannette that it was no trouble at all. She was a matronly, if not clumsy, woman who’s nice house and nice clothes set the tone for the good and upstanding boarding house she ran. The girls who had been in her care were loved fiercely and looked after tenderly with a maternal, if not iron, fist. She was no stranger to hard work and saw the running of this hall for ladies as her battlefield. While the muddied stairs and the young women were not German soldiers or Pacific islands, they were a worthy opponent all the same.

“I saw your banner, Mrs. Grisham,” Jeannette said, gesturing back the way she had come. “Your son?”

Stars marked windows and hearts, declaring that the ultimate show of patriotism had been brandished in that home. Their home fires were stoked a little more vigorously and their women sat in wait a little more earnestly. Jeannette had seen many on her trip down from Pennsylvania and knew still more in her hometown; there it stung to put names to the stars in windows.

“Yes,” Mrs. Grisham said, with a thin smile. “Arthur is in the Pacific. And you?”

“Two brothers in North Africa,” Two stars for Jeannette’s mother. “A cousin in the Navy, and a friend. Last I heard, he was in England.”

Those names were hard to forget. Brothers. Friends. Family. Everyone knew someone who was fighting, everyone had a letter that they could send.

Her friend had taken up space in her mind since he had waved goodbye on that train. She carried those dark eyes and that crooked smile in her carpet bag across state lines and into Norfolk, etched into her memory with the letters and the memories. Jeannette hadn’t heard from him in several weeks and she was growing steadily more concerned. They had grown up together and he had always been in her life in some form or fashion, in letters or in days under the trees.

“Mine too!” Bessie cried. “Postmarked Aldbourne.”

“Now, you know how Estelle feels about all this talk,” Mrs. Grisham said softly. “Did you have your address changed, dear? Letters are a big to-do around here.”

Jeannette didn’t cling to every letter, every word at first. She hadn’t known what a lifeline those pencil-etched papers of military issued paper, in the storm of the current world. She had begun to see how impervious the lead was to the wiles of the storms.

“My mother will forward any letters from home,” Jeannette said.

“Now, enough of all this letter talk,” Mrs. Grisham said. “You got a job on base, didn’t you?”

Jeannette nodded.

“You are in luck. Most of the girls here work on base and there is always plenty of room in the car. Dinners and breakfasts are as a home but lunches are up to you. I trust you’ll join us tonight? I’ve been saving my coupons.”

“Mrs. G is making her apple pie,” Bessie said. “It ranks 4th best.”

“I will win first place, mark my words,” Mrs. G teased. “You’ll find we are very relaxed here, Jeannette. I don’t care much what you get up to, just keep your wits about you. These Navy men-” Mrs. Grisham shuddered as if repelled by the thought of that branch of the US military. “Bess and Estelle will show you your room. You’ll have to share.”

Once Jeannette had assured Mrs. G that she had shared a room her whole life and it didn’t matter to her, the landlady smiled and waved them up the back staircase. Following the damp footprints of Bess up the third floor, she let her eyes wander to the photos on the walls. Scenic views of the river that Jeannette knew was only a few miles away shared space with the portraits of a young boy and a much younger Mrs. Grisham. Beside her was the assumed Mr. Grisham, who’s dark eyes followed Jeannette up the stairs long after his face had ceased to be represented in the family photographs. It was almost poetic, to see the changes in the family as Jeannette followed Bess and Estelle up the stairs.

Between the days by the river and the picnic blankets on the beach, Arthur grew up and Mrs. Grisham grew grayer. Jeannette had been a girl prone to empathy often to her detriment and felt the pang of nostalgia deeper as they ascended till the final frame on the landing showed the now older and grimmer son who Jeannette had seen as a child not seven steps back, dressed up in his uniform. Bess and Estelle had passed these photos daily and knew the stories behind them, having seen Arthur in the flesh before the Navy had stolen him away. They felt the pang as Jeannette did, but sharper. They knew the shy and quiet boy wasn’t in that uniform.

They ignored the second floor, leaving Mrs. Grisham’s shrine to how things had been before Arhtur untouched and continued to the third floor, where the photos were scarce and replaced with paintings of long forgotten relatives and odd landscapes. Bess paused to point out that the oar on the side of the boat depicted wasn’t actually an oar but a “sneaky duck. I didn’t know until Carrie told me. Looks like an oar, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” Jeannette admitted. “Did a Grisham paint it?”

Estelle turned from where she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lagging Jeannette and Bess. “The previous owner of this house, a great aunt of Mrs. Grisham’s, Beverly Simmons, was an amatuer artist.”

“Emphasis on the amatuer,” Bess muttered as she jogged up the last few steps. “Mrs. G doesn’t want to see ducks that look like boats on the main floor so we are forced to look at their sorry tails everyday.”

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Jeannette said, wanting to defend the ducks. She tilted her head, getting a better look. “Well…”

“They wear on you after a few weeks,” Estelle said, beckoning Jeannette up the stairs. ”You’ll see.”

The frightening vision of these misshapen ducks waddling up the stairs after her was enough to quicken Jeannette’s pace, securing her safety on the landing where Estelle and Bess had already moved on.

“You’ll be on the left,” Bess said, poking her head into a doorway and shouting, “Margo! Calm down, it’s just me. You’ve got a letter.”

The landing had an overstuffed armchair, a bookcase where all the inhabitants leaned to the left, and a single window that sent slanting gray light onto the wooden floor that creaked under Jeannette’s uncertain feet. It looked like a cozy place to sit and read on a rainy day such as this if there hadn’t been a weight in the air. It wound between the branching doorways, under the floorboards, and sank into Jeannette’s bones. It was an anticipation that was as intoxicating as it was melancholy.

The American homefront had known only one thing in the two years since they had found themselves in a simmering war and had taken it upon themselves to bring it to an unrelenting boil. In the heat of the flames of passion, love, and patriotism, the country was left with an immense shadow. The waiting. Like dolls abandoned in their beautifully crafted house, dust collected on their painted, smiling faces.

Jeannette had known the numbing of waiting, the thrill of the letter in her hands, the way she held them so tightly. Her mother hadn’t understood, quite so deeply. Ada didn’t understand, quite so sharply. She had never felt it as strongly as she did in this house. Women in a war but not fighting for it. Women who were aching for those who did fight but putting up their own battles. It was almost poetic, the anticipation.

This anticipation had become the drive behind her movement, the striking match to her move down to Norfolk. This fire needed to be stoked by more than just letters. Ink didn’t catch quite like working for the war effort. Jeannette had been fond of the meter and beat of poetry, finding solace from the cole-tinged air in the yellowed pages of Maffei, and Shakespeare. Her brothers and their friends never understood her obsession, save one. He would sneak books from the library in Pittston and slide them under her window. Jeannette smiled at the memory. She had spent many summer nights poking her head out that window, looking for what literature had been left in the window box of daisies.

“On the left, she said?” Jeannette looked at Estelle and pointed to the first door on the left. She made for the handle, palm grazing the cool metal when Estelle’s voice cut through the weight like a sharp knife.

“Not that room!” She snapped.

Jeannette would have stepped back if her shoes weren’t prone to wobbling so dangerously. She settled for snatching her hand back from the cold doorknob. Estelle’s fire had subsided but there was no apology, no retraction of her word. Jeannette didn’t offer an apology. She didn’t know what she had done.

“Oh, Jeannette,” Bess said, coming to her rescue. “Not that left. That’s Carrie and...Oh never mind, I’ll show you.”

Jeannette was ushered toward the next door and winced as Bess shouted at the inhabitant. “CONNIE! YOU’VE GOT A LETTER!”

There was a long stretch of silence followed by the snuffling sounds of deep sleep. Jeannette’s prospective roommate seemed to be undisturbed by Bess’s screech while Jeanette’s own ears were still ringing.

“Constance works nights with my roommate, Margaret,” Bess explained, her voice not at all strained by the scream from a moment before. “They are machinists on the aircraft for the Navy. We don’t see them very often.”

The carpet bag was suddenly quite heavy in Jeannette’s hand and tugged on her already aching shoulders. Bess noticed her wince and took pity on her new housemate. “Constance, I’m sorry but I have to turn on the light.”

The dark, peaceful oasis was suddenly illuminated by the light overhead and the lamp on the bedside that Bess mercilessly flicked on. Jeannette glanced around the now visible furniture, that no longer looked like looming creatures from nightmares. An empty bed, a dresser opened to reveal barren drawers, and a desk with the stability of a drunken sailor fresh from sea duty.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite alarm clock,” The lump of blankets that Bess insisted was Constance, said, her voice muffled. “Morning, Beth,”

“Very funny, Constance,” Bess said. “Do you want your letter or not?”

A calloused hand, scarred and rough from the late nights among the heavy machinery and scrabbling over metal carcasses of aircraft, withdrew from the quilts. Bess placed the offering in the waiting palm and, like the jaw of a predator, the hand snapped it up eagerly, drawing back to the safety of the quilts.

“Do you need help unpacking?” Bess asked Jeannette brightly. “I’m an ace at moving. I’ve helped most everyone on the floor. Except Estelle, of course, she’s been here since before the “I” fell.”

Bess was, indeed, an ace at packing and unpacking. This skill had been cultivated long before she had received her first letter, before she had been the smiling waitress at that destined cafe, when she was just Elizabeth Ferguson. Jeannette liked Bess. It was impossible not to. There was something about her short brown hair framing her face and the big brown eyes that made her so endearing and begged to be helpful. Jeannette couldn’t say no.

“If you don’t mind,” She started to say.

“I don’t!” Bess said, snatching up the carpet bag and throwing open the wardrobe on Jeannette’s side of the room.

Jeannette had never known a great abundance of belongings. Most of her life, she had seen this as an embarrassment, to know few and to have few seemed to be a weakness. That was, until she had accepted the translator position in Norfolk and packed up what little she had into a carpet bag. The carpet bag that had housed her pieces from home, her few books, and the clothes that had been worn through all in the name of the war effort, was thrown open. Bessie Ferguson no longer stood in that room, but a whirlwind of limbs, flying clothes, and knick knacks being placed just so.

“Where are you from, again?” Bessie asked, not waiting for a response, before plunging on with the next question. “Your brothers are in North Africa? I have a brother. He’s not fit for service, lucky bastard. Don’t tell Mrs. G that I swore-”

“Beth,” Constance groaned, tossing back the covers. “What time is it?”

“A quarter past four,” Jeannette supplied, glancing at her watch.

“I was hoping to get another hour,” Constance sat up, letter still in hand. She smirked at its contents.

“Another poem?” Bess asked, setting Jeannette’s Shakespeare and Maffei volumes on the teetering desk. “Connie’s beau is something of a poet.”

Constance’s mussed curls bounced as she shook her head at the younger girl’s words. “That’s generous of you, Beth,”

Whether or not the gift of prose was possessed by her pen pal, Constance didn’t seem to mind. Her sea green eyes scanned the page, soaking up every thoughtful word and stumbling line. Her fire was stoked by the glint of steel at night and the scrabble of poems written to the “lady by the sea”. It mattered not that Norfolk was on a river, not the Atlantic, the letters were addressed like that and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like the title.

Constance peeled back the blankets to set free the cat trapped beneath the coverlet, and chuckled at a particularly horrid, if not well meant, line. Her eyes fixed on Jeannette and extended a calloused hand to the newcomer.

“Constance Ramos. You must be Jeannette,”

The redhead nodded, accepting the rough hand in her own and giving it a shake. “I don’t suppose we will be seeing a lot of each other. I’m on the day shift.”

Constance shrugged. “We’ll be like ships in the night. We keep busy around here.”

“Passes the time,” Bess agreed.

“Between letters?” Jeannette guessed.

“We sound crazy about those damn letters, don’t we?” Constance said, chuckling softly. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the wooden floor as she stretched out her aching muscles. “They keep us going, more than a war effort ever could. I can keep bolting sheets of metal when I know my soldier is alive and when I don’t hear from him, it gets heavier. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Jeannette murmured.

Those letters had made a ship to steer among the waves of this new world Jeannette found herself in. Uprooted and unfamiliar, she clung to the letters signed with their scribbled J and the indiscernible followers. The thought of buying that ticket from Pennsylvania to Virginia had been encouraged by the letters in her pocket. If he could be thousands of miles from home for her, she could be transplanted to a new state for the aid of the troops.

Connie glanced over the books on the teetering pile of poetry on the desk as Bess hummed along to some tune. “You like to read?”

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “My mother had mostly Italian books but I have some in English now.”

The English volumes had been collected over the years, from the window box of daisies to the exchanges on the hill overlooking the breaker. The last book, The Grapes of Wrath, had been the final exchange on that hill. He had been given his orders and was only on leave for a few days. He had brought her a book. He had asked if he could write to her. Jeannette had said yes. Jeannette had cried. There had been no romantic declarations or bouts of infatuation. The words had been plain, just how he liked them and how Jeannette despised them.

Bess shut the wardrobe with a snap and turned, her skirt swishing around her knees and damp socks. “You a translator on base?”

Jeannette paused, not sure how much was allowed to be discussed. This attic seemed as safe as could be but what did those posters promise? Ships sunk by the careless whispers of loose lips. Glancing at the window, as if a German spy would be listening from the third floor windowsill, Jeannette nodded quickly.

“Oh you’ll likely see Estelle!” Bess cried. “She’s working as a computer on base.”

Dumbfounded at the disregard for secrecy, Jeannette sputtered. “Shouldn’t we-”

“Who’s going to hear us?” Connie shook her head. “We all know how to keep a secret.”

Bess nodded, setting the now empty carpet bag on the neatly made bed. She hadn’t been kidding about her skills in unpacking. Jeannette had barely had time for a single melancholy notion about the blouse she had worn to the movies with her friends or the books with the coal stained fingerprints. Jeannette hadn’t noticed this room becoming her own but in the space of a few moments, it looked like her childhood bedroom. The quilt was the same, the books were present and accounted for. It looked like home.

“Speaking of secrets,” Bess said, snatching up the patchy tabby cat set free from Connie’s bed and cuddled it tight to her black sweater, not minding the fur shed across the yarn. “Are you going to hide that poem from us, Connie?”

Constance blushed. “Maybe Jeannette can give it an educated read. I’m dying to know if my pen pal has a future in the arts,”

Jeannette flushed. Her hobby of studying beat, meter, and stanza had been an asset to her application for the NIS but she was hardly a professional. Perhaps, more of an avid appreciator. Her love of poetry hadn’t been the final mark in her favor for her application. The real seal to her employment had been the native fluency that having an Italian mother and late father provided.

“I’d be delighted to provide an opinion,” Jeannette smiled, sitting on the lumpy mattress where she would rest her weary bones for the foreseeable future.

Constance cleared her throat, making a big show of unfolding the letter and straightening her flannel pajamas.

“Someday I'll get back to you/ When the war is finally won/Then you know just what we'll do In the sheets-”

The rest was cut off by Bess’s shriek of surprise and a cackling laugh from Constance. Jeannette’s cheeks flushed red but couldn’t help a bark of laughter escaping her mouth, never mind the good and upstanding standard that Grisham ladies were known to uphold.

“Do you all get such poems?” Jeannette wheezed.

Bess’s mouth gaped in shock at such a suggestion, only furthering Constance’s giggles.

“I have never gotten such a thing from-” Bessie started to say but was cut off by the appearance of Estelle in the doorway. Drawn by the laughter and shrieks, her brow furrowed at the neatly put together room but the girls in various states of disarray found there.

“What’s all this then?”

“Another poem,” Bess said. “And no, Jeannette, I don’t get that kind of poetry from Dar-”

“Don’t say their names, Bessie,” Estelle chided, in the same sharp tone. As if Bess had put her handle onto a door she didn’t understand what lay beyond. “You’ll get attached.”

“I’d say it’s too late for that,” Constance said, folding up the letter and stowing it under her pillow. It wasn’t a disagreement but the statement of a fact.

“You say their name and they can break your heart,” Estelle said. It sounded as a warning to Jeannette.

“I don’t think names hold much power over love,” Jeannette whispered, almost to herself but Estelle heard.

Estelle’s calculations were rarely wrong. In mathematics and personal life, her calculations were quite often correct. Estelle was known to be the guardian of the third floor, taking the wandering women under her wing. While Jeannette had seen an angel, Estelle was a self described tragedy. She sought a way to shield each girl who crossed the wooden floors of Grisham Hall from such flights toward the sun.

“We don’t tempt fate here,” Estelle said, firmly.

A silence stretched between them. Estelle’s dark gaze and small stature didn’t lend itself to the imposing figure she truly was. Jeannette didn’t think she was afraid of Estelle. Jeannette didn’t know what she thought. There was a truth behind her words. The war bubbled and boiled around them and one couldn’t make too many plans for the future. Jeannette didn’t like to think more than one letter ahead.

“Estelle is ever so jaded,” Bess said, chuckling softly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Estelle winked at Bess but her steady gaze sent Jeannette’s skin crawling. “We don’t say their names so we don’t have to say goodbye.”

* * *

To the real horatio,

I don’t suppose you can tell me where you are but know that I am safe in Norfolk. Mother will be forwarding any of your letters down to me. The girls I’m living with are quite the characters.

Bess is a little younger than me but such a dear thing. She’s the embodiment of springtime. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as happy as she is. Estelle seems to be the ringleader around here, like Adrian was to us in our childhood. I’m still forming an opinion on her. Constance is my roommate and we’ve gotten on like a house on fire. She works night shifts at the shipyard but when we do see each other it’s always good fun. We went to the cinema last week and saw Citizen Kane on her day off. She’s making songs on the piano out of her boyfriend’s poems. It’s very entertaining and has caused our landlady to faint out of shock more than once. There’s also a girl named Margo who lives on our floor. I haven’t met her for more than a few minutes but she seems lovely.

I’m glad to know that your CO is gone, the dreadful beast.

I’ve started to read the book you gave me. I’d like to read it to you sometime, like we did in high school on the breaker hill. If I sent you one of my books would you read it and think of me?

Your letters, as always, brighten my day. I know you fear that you have nothing of any interest to say but I find anything you say of interest. You say your words are not poetic but there is poetry in everything you do. You want to fly through the sky and end the war. While that’s admirable, do you know that I don’t expect this from you?

I’ve known you without money. I’ve known you without fame or excellence. I don’t care if you have either.

You are probably bothered by my ‘damn flowery words’. We’ve grown up together. Surely you are fluent in my own language by now.

It’s late. I have an early shift tomorrow. Be safe.

Love, Nettie

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers OFC fic #Original female characters #No Ordinary Time #this is no ordinary time folks #jeannette edwards #estelle tran #bessie ferguson #constance ramos #margaret griffin #vera elliot #carrie rose #home fire hestias #hestias of the homefront #grisham hall for ladies #new anthology #one shot series

21 notes · View notes

quotes121sworld · 1 year

Text

Keith Urban performs at the iHeartRadio Music Awards in LA

Keith Urban wears an all-black outfit as he clutches electric guitar to perform onstage at the 2023 iHeartRadio Music Awards in LA

By Bridie Pearson-Jones for Daily Mail Australia Published: 5:45 am EDT, March 28, 2023 | Updated: 05:46 EDT, March 28, 2023 --> --> --> He is known for his music career spanning three decades.And Keith Urban cemented his rock star status on Monday when he performed in front of an A-list crowd at the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles.The 55-year-old musician opted for an all-black outfit with jeans and a tight shirt as he clutched an electric guitar and sang on stage. Hundreds of famous faces including Heidi Klum, Taylor Swift, Pink and Nicole Scherzinger watched as Nicole Kidman's rock star husband played.The ceremony celebrates the most played artists and songs on iHeartRadio stations and the iHeartRadio app in 2022.

Keith Urban cemented his rock star status on Monday when he performed in front of an A-list crowd at the iHeartRadio Music Awards at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles

The 55-year-old musician opted for an all-black outfit with jeans and a tight shirt as he clutched an electric guitar and sang on stageIt comes after Keith left his job as a judge at The Voice Australia to be replaced by Jason Derulo.The 33-year-old American pop sensation says he's on the hunt for the next global superstar."I'm super, super duper competitive, almost unhealthily competitive," the cocky talk-dirty singer said in an interview with The Sunday Telegraph.Urban said he left The Voice because he wanted to spend time with his family and tour Australia.The country music star left the singing show to embark on the Down Under leg of The Speed Of Now World Tour, based on the title album he released in 2020.

Hundreds of famous faces including Heidi Klum, Taylor Swift, Pink and Nicole Scherzinger watched as Nicole Kidman's rock star husband played

The ceremony celebrates the most played artists and songs on iHeartRadio stations and the iHeartRadio app in 2022. Pictured on Monday

The country star left The Voice to embark on the Down Under leg of The Speed Of Now World Tour, based on the titular album he released in 2020

Keith and wife Nicole recently tightened security at their $6.5 million South Highlands property with a gatehouse manned by security guardsThe couple recently stepped up security at their $6.5 million South Highlands estate with a gatehouse manned by security guards.According to The Daily Telegraph, the couple have approval for a gatehouse at Bunya Hill Farm that will cost $32,450.Approved by Wingecarribee Council, the application states that "owners must have security guards on the premises when at home".They also rent portable entrance gates to the property, as well as a portable toilet facility for security when they stay on the farm.The proposed design, submitted by Brett Goff Building Design and Drafting, will "feel as if it were part of the original entrance gates".On Nicole and Keith's sprawling 45-acre estate in the South Highlands, you'll find traditional sandstone porches, pressed metal ceilings, a grand carved cedar staircase and 10 original marble fireplaces.Since purchasing the property, Keith and Nicole have installed an 18 meter swimming pool, a gym and a large tennis court. The house is also surrounded by large grass mounds to block prying eyes.The couple also own several properties in the exclusive Latitude building in North Sydney.

The couple also own several properties in the exclusive Latitude building in North Sydney Share or comment on this article: Read the full article

0 notes

fundiebabynamebible · 3 years

Note

What do you think about the Caroline Couch murder? Something is so weird about it.

Tw:Murder

I have and something stinks to me

A couple of links for anyone not familiar with the case.

Sky News

Daily Mail

At 5am on Tuesday, 11th May burglars broke into the home of Caroline Crouch (aged 20), her airline pilot husband Charalambos ‘Babis’ Anagnostopoulos (aged 32) and their 11 month old daughter Lydia. They broke the security cameras, hung the family dog from the staircase and then tied up Caroline and Babis. Caroline was tortured and interrogated for an hour as the burglars tried to find out where valuables were. They were unsuccessful and eventually strangled her i front of her baby daughter, before fleeing with between £10-30k worth of cash and jewellery (the amount varies depending on which media source you read). I should point out that the burglars had guns. The husband was the only witness.

Several things are so strange to me about this case:

- Why would the burglars waste their time interrogating Caroline for an hour when they could just ransack the house like ‘normal’ criminals would? Anyone could’ve turned up at the house in that time or a passer by could’ve heard something. The more time you spend at a crime scene the more you risk being caught.

- The burglars were supposedly yelling at Caroline inbroken Greek (possibly Albanian). I have yet to look at the house and surrounding houses on Google maps but how wouldn’t the neighbour hear yelling at 5am; it’s very unusual.

- If they had guns why not just shoot Caroline? Strangulation is a crime of passion.

- How did they know where the security cameras were? If they’d been spying on the house for a few days to work out where they were, how did no one see anything? From what I’ve read, it was a small town and close community so a stranger or new arrival would stand out.

- £10-30k doesn’t seem much to burgle and murder someone for

- Why only torture the wife and leave the husband unharmed? He’s a witness and would probably know where the valuables are as well. Every case I’ve read where the wife is injured/murdered and the husband left unharmed has turned out to be a murder for hire arranged by the husband.

- I’ve read that Caroline and Babis have been together since she was 16. What normal 28 year old would pursue a teenager? Something seems so odd.

- I’ve watched a couple of interviews and Babis seems strangely calm for someone who has just lost his wife, mother of his child, and been through such a traumatic experience.

Personally I think it was a murder for hire by the husband. He killed her and had to concoct this story to try and make it all make sense. I’m not sure why he killed her, maybe he found someone else and wanted to leave her but not lose custody of the daughter. The thing that really sickens me if he did do it though is why the heck did he need to murder the dog?

#anon #ask #greece #caroline crouch #crime #true crime #tw murder

10 notes · View notes

ladypaulsvn · 4 years

Text

Yours, Mine, Ours

Billie x Reader x Cordelia

Word Count: 2,919

Part 4/?

Read part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Getting dumped by Cordelia hit you harder than you expected, but a certain medium was right there to cheer you up.

a/n: pretty long chapter this time, i hope you enjoy getting some insight into Billie :)

You were so confused. So. Fucking. Confused. You should be happy now. Your relationship with Cordelia was finally brought to light and no longer had a wear on your shoulders. Or at least, it shouldn't have anymore.

But that's exactly what it did. Instead of solving all your problems, Cordelia breaking it off with you only made them worse. Secretly, deep down, you had hoped that maybe she would've fought for you. But she didn't. She was emotionless and cold and it made you shudder. She wasn't who she used to be, that was for sure.

You felt awful. You had been ignoring Billie the past few days. She had called you, texted you, but you didn't respond to anything. Instead, you locked yourself up in your bedroom at the academy, crying and confused.

You could have Billie now! You didn't have to worry about things with Cordelia! Her feelings towards you were finally revealed. She didn't love you anymore. So why did you still love her?

You were curled up in your bed under the covers as usual when there was yet another routine knock on your door. You didn't bother to say anything, you knew it was Zoe. She had been coming to check on you daily, making sure you ate something, and drank some water.

"Y/n?" You heard Zoe's voice pierce your quiet room as she shut the door behind her. You were laying faced away from the door, and you weren't planning on moving.

"It's nearly dinner time. I brought you some food. Please eat something. At least drink this water." She said, coming into view as she placed a tray on your bedside table.

You glanced up at her and she smiled at you. You could see her brow furrow. "Cordelia's worried about you..." she whispered and you tried your best to make your face stay cold and barren of emotion.

"She's been trying to force me to come check on you multiple times a day. I've pushed her to just once." She added and you sighed, turning away from her and pulling the blanket over your head.

Your head the soft clack of her shoes against the floor, and the click of the door closing into the frame as she left. You sat up in your bed and reached over, grabbing the glass of water she had brought you.

Cordelia was worried about you.

Worried? About you? Seems highly unlikely, you thought. If she was so worried, why didn't she simply come check on your herself?

You rolled your eyes as you finished the glass of water, curling back up under the covers and falling asleep.

***

Billie was worried.

You hadn't answered her messages or calls all week. You normally wouldn't go more than an hour or two without responding. She was worried something horrible had happened, but she hoped that your phone was just broken.

Billie glanced at her reflection in the car mirror, fixing her hair and the pearl necklace that graced her neck. She quickly climbed out of her car and walked up the steps of the academy, ringing the doorbell.

She worriedly fussed with the watch around her wrist as she waited for someone to answer the door. Usually, Spalding would be at discretion, but to Billie's surprise, the door opened to reveal Cordelia.

You had told Billie about Cordelia, but Billie certainly hadn't pictured this from your description. She wore a scowl on her face, and her arms were crossed in a defensive posture.

Cordelia glanced Billie up and down. "What are you doing here?" She asked with malice, not moving from the door frame.

"Is y/n here?" Billie wasted no time. Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "Why do you need to see y/n?" She drummed her fingers on her arm. "If you must know, she hasn't been answering my calls or messages, so I thought I would come check on her. I've been worried." Billie explained and Cordelia scoffed.

"If she didn't answer you, there's a reason. Good day now, Ms. Howard." Cordelia said as she closed the door in Billie's face. Billie stood there, her mouth agape, as she heard Cordelia click all the locks on the door.

Billie sighed. What was she going to do now? She decided to call you, one last time. She paced on the porch of the academy as her phone rang and rang and rang. She was sent to voicemail.

She sighed into the phone, deciding to leave a message. "Hi y/n, it's Billie. You probably knew that because my number is saved in your phone, but that's beside the point. I'm worried about you. I came to check on you but Cordelia has locked me out, so I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you, and if you ever need anything, i'm only a call or text away." She hung up at the end of her sentence.

***

You had watched your phone ring and Billie's name light up on the screen. You ignored it until it went to voicemail, and you listened as she spoke.

Cordelia had locked her out? You were confused, and quite frankly, angry. You weren't sure if you wanted to see Billie, but Cordelia having the nerve to lock her out of the academy? What was wrong with her?

You decided to get out of bed and shuffle down the stairs, silently hoping that Billie might be still be there. There wasn't anyone in your path as you walked to the front door, and sure enough, all the locks had been placed.

You carefully unlocked them all and opened the door, peeking your head out to see Billie's car still in the drive way. She was buckling her seat belt and about to turn her key in the ignition.

You had two choices. You could let her leave, and go back to your room and sulk. Or you could run out to her car, tell her you got her voice mail and were happy that she cared and you were sorry for ignoring her.

You decided on the latter and raced down the steps, running up to her car just as she had started to pull out of the driveway. She saw you and immediately stopped the car, eyes wide.

You took initiative and opened up the passenger side door, climbing inside, not caring that you were only in your oversized shirt as pajamas at 5 pm.

Billie was speechless as you shut the door, turning to her. "I'm sorry." You said, finding yourself searching her eyes for comfort. "Y/n... I, did you get my voicemail?" She asked and you nodded.

"I did and I'm sorry. I wasn't ignoring you for any malicious reasons i've just been... down." You explained and Billie put a hand on your cheek.

"Sweet girl. I'm just glad you're alright." She stated and you blushed under her touch. "Did Cordelia really look you out?" You asked and Billie sighed.

"She didn't seem to want visitors today, is all." Billie replied and the two of you sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Can I come with you?" it came out as a mere whisper and Billie turned to you with an eyebrow raised. "Of course you can. Are you sure you want to wear that?" She asked, pointing to your shirt.

You had forgotten your attire. "I- well. I don't know if I want to go back inside... if i'm being honest." you confessed, looking to your lap.

There was a silence before Billie spoke again. "Would you like to come stay with me for awhile?" You looked up at her in shock. Was she inviting you to stay with her?

"Stay with you?" You asked and she smiled. "Yes, stay with me. I have a nice little house here and it does get quite lonely." Your eyes practically had stars in them as you nodded furiously. She had the biggest grin on her face.

"I should go... pack a bag or something then." You thought aloud and she offered "I could go inside with you, so you aren't alone." and you sighed in relief. You didn't want to run into one of the girls, or god forbid Cordelia and have to explain what you were doing. "Yes, please."

Billie turned her car off and you both got out, she grabbed your hand as you made your way back into the academy and up the stairs to your bedroom. You hadn't run into anyone, surprisingly.

Billie stood, watching as you grabbed a backpack from your closet and stuffed a few items of clothing inside. "Um, my bathroom is across the hall. I need my toothbrush so i'll be right back." You said and Billie smiled at you, watching as you disappeared into the hallway then came back with your toothbrush in hand.

"Okay, I think that's everything. I packed a few changes of clothes so I'll be good for a few days." You rocked on your heels. "Well let's get going then hm sweetheart?" She grabbed your hand again and soon enough you were both back in her car, pulling out of the driveway and on the way to her house.

You pulled out your phone and sent a quick message to Zoe.

You: Hey Zo, I'm staying with a friend for a few nights. Just wanted to let you know so you didn't think I up and disappeared on everyone.

Zo-Bo: A friend? Who?

You: Just a friend. I'll be back in a few days, okay?

Zo-Bo: ...Okay y/n. Be safe. I'll let Cordelia know.

You stuffed your phone back in your pocket and glanced over at Billie. She had her eyes on the road and you couldn't help but smile at how concentrated she looked while driving.

You felt safe riding with her, something you couldn't say about Madison or many of the other girls that drove you around places. Or really, dragged you around to different parties.

You arrived at her house a few moments later, it wasn't as big as you pictured but somehow suited her perfectly. A cozy little town house that was elegant, just as she.

She opened your door for you and pulled your bag out of the trunk, offering to take it inside for you. You shook your head and grabbed it from her, she had done so much for you already.

When she guided you inside, you immediately felt at home. It was cozy and decorated as finely as the pearls around her neck. There were book shelves lining the living room walls and across the way was a stunning kitchen.

A staircase was in between and she guided you up the stairs and into a room she introduced as her own. "You can stay in my room with me." She smiled at you as you set your bag down by her mahogany dresser.

"Your house is wonderful Billie. Absolutely wonderful." You said and you could see her eyes light up at the praise. "I'm glad you enjoy it. Please make yourself at home, i'm going to order us some food. Is there anything in particular you'd like? Any cravings?” She asked as she sat on the edge of her bed, grabbing the phone from the hook.

Of course she would have an old fashioned phone like that right on her bedside table. She was simply elegant. "No, no... whatever you want is fine with me." You said as you looked around her room.

She had a few paintings on her wall and her ceiling light was almost a chandelier with how studded with crystals it was. Her bed was four postered and had a lush duvet and patterned fluffy pillows. It wasn't one hundred percent perfect so you could tell she had slept in it the night before.

Her whole house was that way and it was refreshing to see her actually living, having a place she called home and you could genuinely tell that it was a home and it had been lived in.

Billie talked softly in the background, ordering some sort of Thai take out as you brushed your hand across the edge of her dresser, glancing at all the little knick-knacks.

A photo of her and someone else you hadn't seen before was in a small frame, next to that a small perfume vile that smelled just like her hugs.

A tiny ceramic poodle was next to that, and a folded up robe finished the surface. It was truly the essence of Billie, her room. Everything was just so her.

"The food should be here within the half hour." You jumped at Billie's voice, turning around to see her standing right by you. "Thai?" You asked and she nodded. "It's my favorite." She explained and you excitedly replied it was yours as well.

"I'm going to shower I think..." Billie stated before nodding, like she was confirming her own thoughts. "Yes. I won't be long. Keep an ear out for the delivery man? It's already been paid for." Billie have you a quick kiss on the cheek that left ur face burning red as she went through a doorway attached to her room. That must be her bathroom.

You decided to go downstairs, give Billie some privacy as she showered, but mostly because you wanted to explore the rest of her house. Get to know her a little better. Maybe she liked the same books as you?

You ventured down the stairs and into the living room first, eyes scanning the many bookshelves, reading the titles absentmindedly. You smiled as you saw a few of your favorites.

She had these pretty lamps set out on side tables and you'd never seen anything like them before. They were studded with flowing beads, creating a curtain under the lampshade that made a satisfying click-clacking noise as you ran your hand through them like hair.

They were a gorgeous dark red color, matching the throw pillows on her couch. Her house was cozy in more ways than one, one being her color scheme of dark red and soft cream and deep blues. You'd see Billie and think her to be one to have a house full of stark white and granite and soft pinks like her exterior, but it was quite the opposite.

You enjoyed getting this extra insight into who Billie really was, and temporarily forgot about all your emotional trouble with Cordelia. The doorbell rang and made you jump as you were lost in your thoughts. You quickly made your way to the door and swung it open, thanking the delivery man as he handed you the bag.

You wondered what Billie had ordered for you, maybe she got you the same thing as she got herself? You decided to bring the bag into the kitchen, setting it on the counter and unpacking it's contents onto the counter, setting it up for the two of you as you didn't see a dining table.

She didn't seem to even have a dining room, which seemed odd as her house seemed very traditional and homey. But then again, nothing about Billie was exceptionally traditional in the slightest. She always seemed have a few tricks up her sleeve.

"Smells divine." You turned at the sound of Billie's voice. She was wearing a soft pink silk pajama slip and fuzzy slippers, her wet hair draping her shoulders and her face free of any makeup. You had never seen her like this before and you were completely transfixed. "You are so beautiful." The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them and she simply chuckled and thanked you with a kiss on the cheek.

You yourself were still in your pajamas you hadn't changed from in the last day or two, or three. Maybe it was four? The days had begun to blend. She sat at the counter so you followed suit. "I wasn't sure what you ordered for who so I just kind of set everything out." You bashfully explained, suddenly letting the anxiety course through you a bit harsher than before.

"I ordered the same thing for both of us, I hope you like it. It's my favorite thing from this delicious place and you didn't specify what you wanted so I went with my gut." She explained, picking up a box and opening it up, grabbing chopsticks from the bag.

"Eat up honey." You smiled at her words and grabbed a box too, feeling much better than you had in the past few days. You were glad Billie came to check on you.

You enjoyed this domestic bliss and relished in the moment as you both small talked as you ate. Discussing her up and coming tv show and other bits and pieces of her life. You liked hearing about her work and you especially liked the attention not being on yourself, so you let her rant about a million work related things as you both finished your meals.

The night ended with the two of you in her bed, her holding you close and tucked into her side. She laid a soft kiss to the crown of your head as she said goodnight and it didn't take you long to fall asleep.

You were so busy with Billie that latter half of the day, that you missed all the texts and calls blowing up your phone. Cordelia didn't like when you up and disappeared.

tags: @poulengp @sarahsbabygurl @duchessfics @shineestark @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @lana-b-bana @zamoimagines @chokemepaulson @venablesbitch @nowthisislanabanana @make--your--life--spectacular @mistyyygoode @mssupremepaulson @8plasma

#american horror story #au fanfiction #fanfic #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #ahs murder house #ahs x reader #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode #Spotify

125 notes · View notes