#the sordid devil

[torturingpeople]

posting freya and rosier before their intros are out... worlds easiest game of "spot the situationship"

[torturingpeople]

this has made me realise i have also never stated my characters accents or speaking styles+habits...

player characters

edison: standard english with an accent somewhere between rp and estuary english. no contractions, but uses innuendo often and elongates his words for effect

harper: german accented standard english (sort of like lme) which mostly comes out in his inflections and the way he pronounces "th" and "w"

dove: northern accent with a heavy dialect and slang usage. but she can imitate a lot of other accents including rp, cockney, irish, french, american etc etc but her comfortable normal speaking accent is northern

freya: rp but contracts her words and uses slang and leans a tiny bit more into cockney when she's stammering/fumbling her words or swearing

non player characters

marie: standard english and a very old fashioned and overemphasised rp accent. trills her 'r's in a way she doesn't need to and puts a lot of effort into sounding "posh". also speaks in a quiet and lilting tone to entice the listener if you will

dionysia: english with some contractions but minimal slang and a southeast london accent. not quite essex but not exactly estuary english either. speaks quite quickly i.e. hurrying to get her words out, a lot of her speech lacks quality

rosier: transatlantic american/english accent and standard english. scarcely ever uses contractions. usually appends his sentences with a question i.e. "is it not?" or "are you not?" or fronts them with "why". very standard 'trad husband of the 20s' speech type

filip: polish accented standard english with contractions, and can be rather rude in his speech. one to swear and insult quite often

(bonus) vasily: russian accented broken english. refuses to learn standard english but also doesn't use contractions because he omits the article (i.e. "you are an idiot" becomes "you are idiot")

esther: essex/southeastern accent. can speak in rp/standard english if she wants and will do so in formal settings but at work or home her natural accent is between medway and essex

Realized I’ve never said what accents my Fallen London blorbos have—

Atlas: French + Northern (was more comfortable with French as a kid, learned to speak and pronounce English in the North but never really lost their first accent)

Thomas: RP

Carlo: South London

Agamemnon: Greek

[johnnyripped]

[yeyinde]

preacher's daughter (Ethel Cain inspired) and biker Ghost would go so hard. all that corruption, religious trauma/catholic guilt, and small town gothic misery, you know?

sheltered daughter meets violence personified. the devil and the sacrificial lamb. you meet him when you wander up to the motorcycle club on the outskirts of town with a pamphlet about salvation clutched in your trembling hands. he leans his big, intimidating frame against the door jamb, and with his arms crossed over his broad chest, says must be good on your knees, aren't you, birdie?

(you answer with an earnest yes, sir, i worship on my knees everyday and pretend the heat that flares in your belly when he groans is from the too-hot sun; the first of many sins.)

later that evening, your daddy tells you that he's an honest and good man, but sometimes he prays that God strikes that vile place right down. you bite your tongue and nod, but sneak out at night and meet him there where you slip into silk lingerie and dance on stage just for him. he tells every man there that if he catches them staring at you, he'll stab them in the eyes, and you think it's the most romantic thing you'd ever heard.

it's love letters carved into the sunbleached bones of a half-submerged deer left to rot in the stagnant bog just outside of the abandoned white chapel. something watches you from the dark stained glass windows as he runs his tattooed fingers over your skin, leaving smears of gunpowder and soot.

(someone set the old man's car on fire—the who leered at you while you stood in the choir, wearing your lily white dress and sang glory be while you tried to forget what those tattooed hands felt like when they slipped under your skirt and between your thighs.

the old man was still inside—)

they call him a ghost. a demon. you call him Simon and daydream during bible study that you'll run away together. hop on the back of his old Harley and forget this place ever existed.

a daydream that quickly turns into a nightmare when your sordid relationship comes to light, and your daddy threatens to have him locked away for good. there's a gun in the safe upstairs. you think about the time Simon dragged you into the woods to shoot at cans and lose your faith under the sweltering sun when you pull the trigger.

"for us," you tell him, breathing in the dank church air ripe with sin and the stench of blood. "i did it for us."

it's leaning on the back of his Harley with your fingers threaded around his thick waist as the town grows smaller and smaller in the distance. staring up at the endless blue sky and grinning wide because you finally got your monster of a man wrapped around your finger.

(and all it took was a little deal made with the thing that lives in the abandoned church.)

[crushthegato]

I cannot believe I get to watch devils playoff hockey today I have not enjoyed a Stanley cup playoff in YEARS

[capvampconnection]

@armandsfangs #which could mean nothing #or it could mean a decade long sordid love affair that was wiped from your memory #alice is armand @rmalademouse #daniel's memories of armand are porous as well i guess (alice) @helianthus21 #oh the YEARNING

Rashid Armand: makes martini like he's worked at Dukes.

[call-sign-shark]

Day 3: Engraved in the Flesh || Finn Shelby x Reader

Requested by a lovely anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- marked, canonical violence, violent sexual practice, spanking, marking kink, non-protected sex, allusion to anal

Words: 630.

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. The length of each prompt is random, but it’s never less than 600 words.

The family never suspected something to be wrong with the youngest of the tribe. After all, he had been lucky enough not to know the ugly truth of war nor the physical and emotional torment of hunger or poverty. If anything, Finn had grown up under Polly’s loving wing. Even if he was accustomed with gangs violence, he never truly took part of it before his brothers deemed him old enough. Arthur, Tommy and John worked hard so that he would never had to take a bullet like they did. They wanted him to be a general, not a disposable and vulnerable soldier. When he started to hang out with the pastor’s daughter, his Aunt was delighted. All of Birmingham knew how kind and quiet Y/N was. Holy Saint among the sinners, the young woman often wandered in the gritty streets of Small Heath with a basket filled with food she usually distributed to the poorest souls. Y/N left a bright sunshine in her wake, all the darkness of the place caught in her long coal black hair. Rumors said that when she smiled, even the most wicked men couldn’t lay a finger on her, all blissed out by her beauty and her divine aura of peacefulness. The bruises on her delicate skin? She was just incredibly clumsy. That was what her father always told her! And when she wasn’t bumping or tripping, the heavy basket she carried marked the flesh of her forearms.

But when the night came and the devils danced under the pale moonlight, she disappeared through her window and ran away from home, swallowed by the dull forest nearby. Y/N hid in an old vargo that belonged to the Shelby family, guided by the weak string lights hanging at the door, and she impatiently waited for Finn Shelby to appear in the doorway with a bottle of whisky in one hand, and a red rose in the other. Then their sordid and obscene ritual started, always following the same order: He slipped the flower in her hair, its crimson and velvety petals enhancing her beauty and suiting the color of the lipstick she had stolen from her mother. Then, they made the temperature rise, hands roaming on flesh clothes flying across the vardo. Only when the bottle of whisky was empty and their arousal reaching its limits, he assaulted her tight cunt with violent and rapid thrusts. A glistening and fragile pussy that only knew his cock. No one else’s. The way her warmth and wetness wrapped him sent his soul to heaven, making his lashes flutter. He was supposed to be a nice boy. She was supposed to be a holy and virginal girl.

So why? Why were they fucking like animals each night in the woods, filling the air with moans, flesh snapping sound and sweat? Why did he bend her over and spank her with his suit’s belt — and why did she enjoy it, her love juice trailing down her thighs more and more at each new beating? Finn grunted in her mouth when he came, painting her walls white and keeping her full til the morning. That was how Y/N liked him: engraved in her flesh, and dripping from her sore holes.

“Tsss, be more careful Y/N. You’re black and blue.” Her father scolded her, eyes rolling with annoyance at his daughter’s carelessness that revealed itself through her purplish bruises on her legs, thighs and neck. Little he knew that all her skin had been painted blue, immaculate flesh turned into a masterpiece by the brush of a mad artist. Y/N was both the canva and the muse, letting Finn Shelby turned her into what their love had always been: nothing gentle but the embodiment of Sin.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 @izzy10369 @peakyltd @dreamy-caramel @kimvolturicullen

[yellowwwcrayon]

genderswap AU (always a woman!Logan x Wolverine Origins!Wade)

A related thought I had a few days ago.

Warnings for the below - mentions of past child SA from Wade's uncle.

"Icebreaker question, when did everyone lose their v-cards?" Wade asked as annoyed groans broke out all around the campfire. Their new CO stood and walked off into the pitch black night without so much as a wave for good night.

Rude.

"Alright, now that the 80-year-old virgin has left the chat, how about the rest of you handsome devils, hmm?" He grinned at the sullen faces reflected in the fire's glow, shiny with sweat and gun oil and probably dried blood. "Oh, come on. I'm just trying to get to know my new teammates better. We just annihilated a whole ass cartel together, time to whip out some mimosas, gossip about our sordid pasts and braid Victor's chest hair."

Victor's jaw twitched as he zipped his vest up over that impressive plumage. The woman sitting next to him, the only woman in their little ragtag team of homicidal freaks mind you, snorted and lifted the lukewarm beer she'd been nursing for the past fifteen minutes up to her face. He watched her take a long swallow, some of the foamy white liquid sloshing over the corners of her mouth and meandering lazily down the olive skin of her exposed neck.

Fred cleared his throat, "sixteen. She was my high school sweetheart."

"Sickening," Wade commented after a pause, ripping his gaze off of Logan and picking up his own forgotten beer, "I'd like to say twenty," a few disbelieving laughs echoed through the men, "but officially, twelve and a half, to a weird uncle on my dad's side at a Christmas party."

Zero made a face.

"Why twenty?" John asked from beside him.

"Oh just because of how earth-shatteringly good it was," He kicked his legs out and rolled his shoulders back, acutely aware of Logan's eyes on him across the flickering fire, "you see, I was but a simple innocent Canadian boy before I met her. After, I emerged a man."

"You are so fucking weird," said Zero.

"Hush, Jimin, I'm telling the story here."

"Jesus."

"My car, well, it technically wasn't my car. I stole it off of a drug dealer south of the border, but I digress. Anyway, it had broken down on the side of the road in Albuquerque, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and I was seriously contemplating trading my tight ass or hot mouth for a ride to the nearest town when my goddess, my princess in shining uh- plaid shirt and jeans, came barreling down the dirt path in this rusty pile of scrap metal-"

"Your princess sounds like a dude," Fred interrupted. "It was a man, wasn't it? I can already see the punchline coming from a mile away."

"Are you gay?" Zero asked, "you seem pretty gay."

Bradley, who had been listening quietly next to Logan this whole time, finally choked on his drink and dissolved into a coughing fit. She reached over and thumped him a few times on the back, her gaze never leaving Wade's face. He stared back.

"Sorry to disappoint, Suga sweetie, but I'm strictly into pussy due to the creepy uncles."

Zero's nose scrunched. "Ugh."

"Anywho, out hopped this beast of a woman," Wade went on, “she was fucking gorgeous, legs for days and tits the size of my head-"

"Singular or combined?"

Wade gawked at him. "Fred, what the fuck?"

"What?" He shrugged, "your head's not that big, Wade."

"This is a shitty story," Zero complained, folding his arms over his chest.

"As big as Logan's melons, ok? Stop interrupting me."

Everyone turned to stare at Logan, whose breasts strained against the sweat-stained wifebeater she was wearing, one black bra strap peeking out from over her left shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow at them and took another sip of beer. Beside Logan, Victor growled, sounding like a backed up motorcycle.

"That's pretty big," Fred finally nodded, "go on."

(Taking a short break from work to relax my brain and free write a bit. Yes, the mystery woman from Wade's story is Logan. They hooked up before they ran into each other again with Team X.)

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Tip the Scales Chapter 1

Prosecutor Sun, Prosecutor Moon, Judge Eclipse x Defense Lawyer (Devil's Advocate) Reader

(You are a charismatic defense lawyer in a constant competition with two ruthless prosecutors that do not understand your ideals about criminals deserving a second chance. You are also housemates with a certain bitter and retired judge, who has a habit of operating at night as a cloaked figure known as the Judge of the Damned. Things get complicated when your old friend Monty gets accused of a murder he claims to not have committed willingly. Will you balance the scales once more?)

Warnings: suggestive themes, possessive behaviour, mentions of violence

There was a particular universal truth that court employees would never dare to admit about court proceedings: not a single one of them actually wanted to be there. Those that did enjoy being present during a session were either lying to themselves or were being paid obscene amounts of cash to pretend to care. In other extreme cases, it was all a part of unhinged ambition sprinkled with a dash of insanity.

Normally the whole process was a dreary affair, varying from sordid and depressing, all the way to showing what an administrative inferno the whole institution had become over time. True to the Dickensian fashion of describing things, one could say that the gloomy and omnipresent fog that had consumed the city with the arrival of Fall was equally present in the courtroom itself, both metaphorically and literally, entering every pore and chilling everyone to the bone.

However, in our specific situation things were getting quite heated. The cold September fog had been rudely pushed aside by the steam of intense and fiery debate you were having with prosecuting attorney Sun.

A bitter rivalry existed between you and the celestial-themed animatronic, but over the past year it seemed to have bloomed into obsessive fascination on Sun's part. We could classifiy it as another universal truth that one was bound to eventually become infatuated and captivated by their “nemesis“.

Placing you two in the same room was a very bad idea. Or a very good idea, it honestly depended on who you asked. For instance, the general public that had come to listen to your long nonsensical argument had arrived there for the sole purpose of finding out whether you two would passionately kiss somewhere in the middle of the whole discussion.

The suspense was maddening, the tension was more than palpable. One of the clerks was fanning himself with a folder, wondering whether or not he had taken his heart medication earlier.

“Could somebody open a window, please?“

There had always been an unusually thin line between love and hatred, enemies and lovers, but somehow it seemed oddly fitting for you and Sun to combine both at the same time with no problem.

After a well crafted comeback, believing himself to be the victor, Sun winked at you, triumphant and his grin wide and sinister.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?“

“My dear sir, I cannot say, I hardly even felt anything.“

“I was under the impression that we have long abandoned this little “playing hard to get“ scenario.“

“Goodness, that sounds serious, delusions could be a sign of a system malfunction, you should get that checked, Sun.“

“Don't be so high and mighty. You will lose today, both the case and the little bet we made.“

“Oh, my, so ominous. I sure am devastated on the inside, inconsolable, I shall probably never recover.“

You were driving him insane. Healthy competition was usually highly encouraged, but this was beyond ridiculous. No matter how eloquent and skillful he was in the art of rhetoric, you refused to yield. You were still a relatively young jurist, having passed the bar examination barely two years prior, but your legal reasoning was unusually innovative and your application of creative solutions to impossible problems was astounding. There wasn't a single thing that Sun could throw at you without you catching it and throwing it ten times harder right back at him.

The judge, an elderly man that was diligently counting down the days till it was socially acceptable to retire from what was regularly a life tenure, was listening to the two of you bicker as if it were the latest installment of his favourite picture show series. He wondered if he should simply let you silly lovebirds borrow his chambers for a minute or two. Or thirty, wherever the feeling takes you. He was very supportive.

He was also the only judge in the building willing to tolerate the nonsense that you and the Celestial Prosecutors kept pulling off in the courtroom. It was free entertainment and he needed some amusement in his old age. The rest of the judicial assembly would have to pull straws each time a new case had to be assigned.

He remembered how different things had been a few years prior.

It was an open secret that the judicial assembly missed the old days when the esteemed Judge Eclipse had still been in office, before his abrupt retirement under unusual circumstances. Eclipse would always volunteer to do all the work, snatching case files from everybody's hands and closing himself in his chambers, leaving the possibility for the rest of the assembly to simply enjoy their coffee and gossip in the conference room.

Intense and immensely dedicated to his work, unyielding, unforgiving and merciless, Eclipse had been akin to a dark deity of the afterlife, deciding the fate of souls that had succumbed to corruption. His golden eyes had held nothing but pure contempt for evildoers, his mechanical heart perpetually hungry for the suffering of the wicked. Court sessions under his administrations had been a thing of horror for some and an example of a job well-done for others. Deranged and disproportionate punishments had made Eclipse quite unpopular in the criminal milieu, and there had been quite a few attempts on his life that would usually end up with the assassins themselves having their spines twisted into a pretty pretzel.

Self-defense, clear-cut, no questions asked, nobody left to mourn a few dismembered rulebreakers.

The euphoria had been too intoxicating, the flesh of Evil too delicious, the screams of the damned a symphony unmatched.

One thing had lead to another, interfering into interrogations, conflict of interest, violating every possible rule of criminal procedure, prisoners being found dead in their cells, acquitted individuals dying under suspicious circumstances mere days after their release.

The courthouse and law enforcement would always turn a blind eye. Whispers in the corridors, silent gasps in the archive rooms, everybody knew of Eclipse's tendencies, his desire to play god. Nobody had dared to make a fuss about the whole situation, not even when a few fellow judges that had been accused of bribery had one day "mysteriously" disappeared. It was all a silent approval. Crime statistics had been fixing themselves, who would dare interfere?

Deciding to return to topics less grim and vile, the current judge smiled fondly at the prosecutors and the sly defense lawyer before him. Such a sweet change, whimsy and passion reigning supreme, banishing the sepulchral dread of olden times.

Contrary to custom, Sun was working with his brother Moon by his side. It was definitely unusual for two prosecutors to work together on same cases and appear in court as a team, but nobody had ever complained about it and regulations had no explicit rule against it. It was Moon's duty to make a thorough research and keep Sun informed of any new facts or legal acts in order for Sun to prepare a proper presentation to enthrall everyone in the courtroom or ask for appropriate actions.

They used all of their individual strengths and skills to achieve the best results. Reminiscent of their older brother's inclinations, their methods and ruthless determination in the pursuit of their version of justice at all costs had become notorious, eventually making the general public refer to them as the Grand Inquisitors.

All of that aside, the two of them still had to make sure that each investigation went perfectly by the books and that there were no irregularities made by law enforcement in the initial stages of each investigation. Being a prosecutor was akin to being a sea captain that constantly kept hoping that his crew was sober. One single mistake meant that the other party would pounce on it like a feral animal.

And pounce you did.

For instance, you were easily capable of rendering a whole confession useless by claiming it was inadmissible evidence obtained through coercion. It was no trouble for you to stage a whole scene.

You had pulled off such a stunt a few times in the past and the results would always follow a hilarious pattern: the confused police officers would simply blink and question their general reality on whether they had truly applied excessive force, the public audience would try not to snack too loudly on the popcorn they had brought, the defendant would do his best to keep crying and keeping his story straight about how absolutely devastated and tortured he was, the judge would hope that no reporters would come crawling in the courtroom and asking about human rights violations. Again.

The celestial twins were unused to such audacity and blows to their pride. Sun and Moon had always been a powerful force that had never known the meaning of failure, the playing field had been theirs to dominate and it was pure madness to even think that anyone could place an end to that. And then you showed up and suddenly the courtroom was a circus, you were the ringmaster and you turned the two of them into the lead jesters of the whole show.

They were furious with you for making a mockery of their act. How dare you?

Moon did his best to remain subtle with his temper, even if his pencils did audibly snap in half from time to time. He had to keep an appearance a patient man, someone courteous and polite. It was of great importance to keep that thick layer of ice above the boiling madness that stirred deep within.

Oh, how you tested his patience still. It all kept accumulating, over and over, cracking the ice bit by bit.

He could write a masterpiece of scholarly analysis and a seemingly perfect reconstruction of events, and you would destroy all of that effort simply by telling him he wrote a date wrong, messing up the entire chronology and all further conclusions, rendering the whole thing useless. You always tripped him with the little things, formalities, so many tidbits that made the whole construction fall apart.

The devil was in the details, after all.

Speaking of which, since the majority of your clients were desperate people that had strayed from the morals of society into a life of crime for mere survival, you had earned yourself the title of Devil's Advocate among your colleagues. The world of your clients, however, was quite grateful for your services and assistance, all of them calling you their Fairy Godparent.

You got them out of trouble, you found them alternatives and new respectful jobs, you gave and gave, granting wishes and making them all happily dance to your music. If anyone had issues or needed help, they knew who to come to. You were waiting with good life advice, cupcakes, a hot cup of coffee and assurance that you would solve all of their problems. In many cases, you were the last angel before the gates of Hell for them, grasping their hand and pulling them back to safety.

After all, placing their fate in your hands was a far better alternative than sinking deeper into darkness and one day being inevitably visited in the middle of the night by the Judge of the Damned, having their life taken as the midnight bells rang.

Because of this looming threat, you did your best to save each soul you came across.

In this particular case, it was a young man that had gotten himself in some serious trouble after associating with a dangerous faction of drug dealers. Such business always came with its risks and there was no true loyalty nor help if someone got caught. Moreover, it was common practice to silence the person from revealing the others by simply ordering their assassination in prison. The young man had gotten way in over his head, too ambitious and too confident in his own abilities, intoxicated with the romantic ideas of what he had seen in movies.

His older brothers had approached you for help after his arrest and you had accepted, of course. You would get the boy out of trouble, free of charge, under the condition that he dedicated himself to getting his life back on track and you would be making sure things stayed that way.

Sun was still waiting for you to speak, and the rest of the room was wondering whether or not you were truly speechless this time or if you were simply preparing something spectacular. Of course, it was the latter. You had pulled a lot of strings and cashed in a few favours, but it was all for a good cause. You heard Sun's impatient voice:

“Ready to admit defeat? There is no conceivable way for you to counter any of this evidence, it is over.“

“Only for those that lack the imagination to do so. I call in question the credibility and the competence of your toxicology expert. You cannot claim that my client was in possession or consuming a certain substance, if its chemical components do no even match what you claim it to be.“

“Pure cocaine was found on his person. He has been known to associate himself with dangerous smugglers of forbidden narcotics.“

“A second analysis, that I took the liberty of ordering from another expert, proved that it was mere flour.“

“Excuse me?“

“He is a baker's apprentice. Poor boy, he is just keeping all of that secret out of shame, which is why we did not mention this earlier, by the way. Alas, I cannot keep this silence anymore, for I must act in his best interest. You see, ever since he was a small lad, it was his dream to make fine Danish pastries, but everyone in his general vicinity was obsessed with the whole “dashing gangster“ persona that is so popular right now, so no wonder that this sad young man, just look at his eyes, this poor innocent child tried to emulate all of that simply to get some respect from his cruel peers. So, he walked around with flour and pretended that it was cocaine. It is all because of societal pressure.“

Had Sun been gifted with a detachable jaw, it would have fallen on the floor by now. It was madness. Your claim was pure madness. He wasn't certain, but he did feel as if all of his systems were about to crash down in a sad attempt at self-preservation. Moon's crimson eyes had turned black and he seemed as if he were silently rebooting himself. It was best for everyone to have him unconscious for a bit, otherwise he would have probably gotten violent. The stenographer stopped typing and blinked at you in a very “what the actual hell“ manner and the old judge took his glasses off emphatically as people normally do in such situations for no specific reason other than dramatic effect.

“God, I haven't felt this much excitement since my last divorce.“

The defendant was very much surprised to hear this as well. He gestured for you to come closer and whispered to you:

“I am a baker's apprentice?“

“You are now. Be the role, become the role, make the rolls. Also, you start next Monday at five in the morning, I got everything already arranged with the baker on main street. This whole process should by over by then.“

“What? The only dough I know how to roll is the monetary one.“

“You learn while you live.“

The poor man looked at you with the expression of someone that would really rather just go to prison than go through such blood pressure oscillations.

His brothers, three friendly chaps in dashing suits, homburg hats and leather gloves, were all smiling and holding a thumbs up in encouragement. He turned around to look at them with a genuinely desperate expression. Listening to this nonsense was punishment enough, regardless if he did the crime or not. They had assured him that you were the best, but nobody ever said that your methods were the sanest.

You cleared your throat and spoke up again:

“In light of this and to support these claims, I enclose all the necessary documents and I am prepared to call the relevant new witnesses if you agree, Your Honour.“

“I can adjourn, I personally got no problem with continuing this on a later day of the week. I have to tell you, you kids are keeping me young, I always thought that my later years in life would be boring. Boy, I sure was wrong.“

A partially drunk man from the spectator area began to clap.

“Bravo!“

The bailiff looked over at him.

“What are you clapping for?“

“I thought this was the theatre.“

“It's a courtroom, is what it is.“

“What's the difference?“

Just as you were about to sit down, Moon was suddenly by your side, having miraculously finished his little reboot session and feeling more energized than ever. It was rather concerning, since he was capable of pulling such a stunt within mere seconds, changing location so fast before you could even register it. You had a theory that he was probably capable of some type of flight or teleportation.

You made a little squeak of surprise as you felt his hands on your shoulders, pulling you close to his face plate, crimson eyes trying to cut your soul to shreds. Nevertheless, you refused to lose your decorum and you kept up an air of aristocratic disinterest.

“May I help you, sir?“

“Don't give me that. You know exactly what you are doing. I am not letting you humiliate us like this again.“

“And you are going to make things better for yourself by intimidating me in public like this? I really want to know what the plan is, I'm curious now.“

“Curiosity will kill you one day, little devil fairy.“

“I am certain that satisfaction will bring me back. What exactly do you want from me?“

He squeezed your shoulders and began to lightly massage them. It was oddly pleasurable, since you were tense and tired. Moon's voice was low, raspy, almost a whisper, akin to that of a nocturnal demon that haunted the shadows and ruled over nightmares.

“What goes around comes around and one day I will humiliate you, as well. I will tear those fairy wings apart.“

“Do you think I am afraid of you?“

“You should be. But, yes, I do have an additional request. Meet us in the conference room as soon as we are done here. We wish to talk.“

For a moment it seemed as if the two of you had forgotten that you were in an oddly compromising embrace in front of the entire courtroom. The same man from the spectator area whispered to the bailiff:

“Is this when the smooching starts? I could have sworn I read it somewhere in the play synopsis.“

“This is not the theatre!“

“Listen, Shakespeare once said that the whole world is a stage. He also said that we should kill all the lawyers, though, but I vote that we keep these three here, I need to know what happens next.“

A normal person would refuse to accept Moon's request after his little outburst, but you wished to talk to him and Sun, as well. Perhaps the old saying of “keep your friends close and your enemies closer“ had some wisdom to it, but you also genuinely wished to somewhat make peace with them. Maybe even explain your perspective and your ideas of justice to them. If things got really wild, possibly even form some fragile bond of friendship.

“Alright, I will be there, I just need some time to get my things first and I will also fetch a cup of coffee.“

You pushed him away and he allowed you to do so. However, his gaze was still on you even as everyone had risen and prepared to leave for the day. He watched you as you cheerfully talked with your client and his family, so warm, so caring. They gave you presents to show their appreciation, bags full of chocolates, teddy bears and a ridiculously large plush rabbit. Such whimsical things, childish and ridiculous, and yet your eyes almost had sparkles from how happy you were.

You were considered a beauty by many, but you were not coquettish, ignoring any amorous comments with your usual aristocratic disdain. Your hair was long and soft, well taken care of, but there were always a few little disobedient tufts that almost appeared like tiny and cute devil horns. It was impossible to straighten them out and you simply let them be.

You had a penchant for black pinstripe suits. However, the professional sterness was mitigated by the presence of a star-shaped pink diamond brooch pinned to the striped bow on your chest area. Moon found it conveniently suitable for your “fairy godparent“ aesthetic. The diamond would catch even the faintest amounts of light, reflecting it on surrounding walls to signify that you were approaching. You were wondrous, gentle hues of pink always heralding your arrival.

Sun spoke to him as the two of them made their way to the conference room, distracting him from his reveries:

“They are so cold to us and yet so warm to them. Did you see that smile?“

“Our fairy sees value in miscreants and mongrels. It is only a matter of time before those strays bite the hand that feeds them and then the little fool will come crying to us.“

“It would be cruel of us to refuse them a warm embrace, brother.“

Moon pondered the thought, the potential image of you in a disheveled state, disappointed and heartbroken. There was something wonderfully poetic about the idea of your rose garden withering away. It was a fair trade for all the times you kept trying to ruin their own view of the world. He and Sun were the righteous hands of justice and not even you could protect your little army of demons forever, shielding them with your dark angel wings till one day their final feather crumbles to dust. A misguided fallen little seraph had to have limits.

Sun and Moon waited for good while for you to arrive. Getting coffee was serious business, after all.

The windows in the conference room were covered with Venetian blinds, creating a game of light and shadow, giving it an air of mystery and melancholy. However, the moment you entered, your diamond brooch cast little sparkles of warm pink all over the walls.

You were carrying the bags with gifts and also balancing your coffee cup. It was honestly a miracle you did not spill everything yet. You set it all on the large table and for a moment you almost seemed to have forgotten the two animatronics even existed as you were fiddling with the little treats you had received.

“These chocolates are my favourite. It is a shame you two can't eat, you are missing pure heaven. Now, what exactly did you two want to talk about?“

Sun was very straightforward and went right down to business.

“You cheated, lied and manipulated facts today.“

“Me? I can only aspire to be that productive in one single afternoon.“

“Furthermore, you shamelessly tried to avoid the consequences of losing our little bet.“

“Tell me something: are you more upset about the case or the bet? It seems to me as if the latter is tormenting you more than the former.“

“I am not answering that.“

“If you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask like a sensible man, we don't need these convoluted schemes for something that simple.“

“Would you, then?“

“No.“

“See, this is why we need the schemes.“

“Such a tragedy your problems are, Sun.“

You opened another box of chocolates and you were wondering whether to try the one with dark ganache filling or the one with hazelnut cream. You were rudely interrupted when Moon lifted your chin up to look at him.

“You are no longer going to prance around acting as if the justice system is your own personal circus. If we expose what you did today, you will be kicked out of the Lawyers' Association and you will lose your license to practice.“

“That sounds so depressing when you put it that way.“

“I personally can appreciate what you were trying to do for all those people in the past year or so, but enough is enough. We could have offered you a plea bargain, had you only asked us. We are more than happy to settle if those puppies of yours mean that much to you, but they will need to serve time, whether you like it or not.“

“When they get in the system, it's over, it will haunt them and follow them for the rest of their lives, from getting employment all the way to daily life and relationships.“

“None of that is your concern, Y/N. You cannot save everyone.“

“With all due respect, Moon, you have no right to tell me what to do. I do not hate you, but I will not tolerate you being in my way either. Do not be fooled by my kind nature, you have no idea who you are playing with. Dreams can become Nightmares fairly quickly.“

“I am saying all of this because I do not want you to share the same unfortunate fate that keeps repeating itself in your family. Always best friends with the wrong lot. You need to stop fraternizing with criminals, for your own good.“

Moon expected a specific reaction from you with that statement, foolishly assuming that he would hit the right spot, that he would cause fear, pain, uncertainty and a need to run somewhere for some emotional safety. Even Sun knew that he had gone too far with that topic.

You were not having it. Yes, you were a regal and delicate flower. However, that flower was also poisonous and with plenty of thorns. You huffed at him.

“Oh, so we are playing that card now? While we are on the subject of family tradition and dubious practices, I am well aware of the person that gets rid of the truly bad people. Did he ever come for any of my current and recent clients? No. Therefore I don't see why you are so determined to lecture me about helping those that only do crime out of necessity, not evil. If anything, this is just petty revenge because you hate losing and because you are a manipulative jerk with no empathy for the misfortunate, Moon. If you wish to punish someone, start with yourself.“

That certainly did hit a nerve.

Moon went over to the window, pulling the blinds shut and letting the room bathe in darkness, the pink light disappearing. You blinked to adjust your eyes.

“Is this really necessary?

Moon's voice was unusually low, almost a whisper:

"Is darkness not a familiar thing to you, little devil fairy? You certainly seem to linger in the shadows, refusing to see the light, you are blind and unable to grasp reality as it is."

You sighed and shrugged.

"That is still better than believing in blind justice. Also, at least I got the comfort of knowing that Sun over here cannot see anything right now, either.“

The daylight animatronic made a huff at your words.

“I still know the basic layout of the room, thank you very much.“

Sun then leaned over to you and whispered:

“Now, why did you have to tell him all that? He is very touchy on that subject.“

“Well, he started it.“

“And you had to continue it?“

“Yes. I too am allowed to be petty.“

Moon's crimson optics were the only light left and they were getting closer, wicked and menacing. Their glow suddenly disappeared and all that was heard was Moon's malicious cackling. Even with Sun present, you knew you were pretty much screwed and that it was best if you made your merry way in the opposite direction.

An interesting chain of events followed that led to even more interesting consequences. You reached for the nearby bag that had the giant bunny plushie in it, throwing it in the general direction of Moon's laughter, hoping that it would hit him and buy you enough time to run out of the room. However, you miscalculated while waving your hand, accidentally hitting Sun in the face instead. In your defense, you could barely see a damn thing in the dark.

As this happened, Sun stepped backwards out of sheer instinct, bumping right into Moon as he was trying to elegantly sneak up. This caused Moon to lose balance and fall on the floor. As he tried to catch onto the table to pull himself back up, his hand landed directly on the coffee cup and the whole contents spilled over the edge right onto him, ruining his coat, vest and shirt.

Needless to say how much noise you three idiots had made in the process.

You reached for another bag, and you began to swing it around without a care in the world.

“Stay back, both of you, I am armed with plushies and I am not afraid to use them.“

Sun's face kept being caught in the collateral damage, of course. With a swift motion, he managed to catch you and pick you up, placing you on the table and pinning your wrists to it to stop you from further attacking him with such a deadly weapon. Meanwhile, Moon was removing his coffee-stained coat and vest, lamenting how the whole fabric was ruined now.

“This is not how I envisioned this meeting to transpire.“

The whole scene was then interrupted when a clerk opened the door, seeing the two celestial animatronics looming over you while you were lying on the table, Sun holding your wrists and Moon having half his clothes off.

The man blinked a few times, before clapping in joy.

“Oh, my god, finally. I have been placing my bets on the three of you for months. I have to tell the others that they owe me money. They said you three would get together by December, but I was a visionary and I said somewhere in Fall. Ah, passion! Such a fantastic thing. Have fun, you crazy lovebirds, you! I'll tell the group of people that is standing right outside not to disturb you for the next few hours, okay? Okay, take care.“

He closed the door and left, leaving the room in darkness again. A few moments passed and you burst out laughing, unable to control yourself. The situation was absurd and you were starting to love every minute of it.

“I must say, this madness is better than some boring date. We should do it again sometime.“

AO3 Link

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

[torturingpeople]

flumblr cameo tag game :-)

i was tagged by @staring-at-my-keyboard and @letters-of-fire!

rules: show your oc’s cameo vs what they actually look like in art or picrew! (all cameos can be found here on the wiki)

now i have a LOT of ocs. and i also like to be extra. so above the cut is pcs with actual cameos, and then below the cut is cameos i've chosen/i would choose for my npcs. i also decided to include cameos i've drawn for my pcs :-)

without further ado...

edison

harper

dove

freya

these are my npcs based on which cameo i would hypothetically pick for them :-)

marie

dionysia

rosier

filip

vasily

esther

this has put into perspective how many ocs i have LMFAOO

it also made me think about like. how little i base my ocs off their cameos... i always tend to come up with a design on a whim first and then put name and backstory to face after

also the lack of masculine cameos with long hair hurts my soul /j

this took me like 3 days to finish thats why i didnt post this immediately LEL

i am tagging @tequila-sunfall, @your-friend-s-santos, @szilverer and @thegreatyin (apologies if you guys have been tagged already!!)

[acapelladitty]

Captain Boomerang/Female Reader - PetPlay

Summary - Collared and kneeling, Digger is eager to show just how much of a pathetic and slobbering pup he truly is.

"Handsome little devil."

Offering the praise with a small smile, you glance down at Digger as he remains kneeling on all fours like a dog - his body as quick to follow instruction as it is to cause trouble which was definitely one of his most attractive traits. Naked as a babe, his tattooed frame splayed itself without shame – the auburn hair which scattered across his body looking unkempt, particularly around his cock where his pubic bush was in desperate need of a trim.

Surveying him like a prized hound, you lean forward in your chair as you tip the bottom of his chin up with your toe, forcing him to stare up at you from his submissive position.

"That said, it's weird to hear you shut the fuck up for so long. Hmm. Bark for me." You demand, pulling at his collar as you lean even further from your chair to loop your finger through the blue leather which sits tight around his throat.

He follows the demand instantly, his sharp barking being followed by a wolfish smile which showcases his teeth - slightly stained and crooked in places as he looks up at you expectantly, awaiting his praise for a job well done. Between his legs, his cock hangs hard and heavy - the mushroomed head shiny with pre-cum due to its continued denial. He loved this, loved being put in his place, and it was a role you were more than happy to fill for him as your cunt floods with your own arousal.

"Good boy." You purr, ruffling at his messy, russet hair with a casual hand. "Maybe you deserve a reward. What do you think?"

His body is quick in its attempt to rise, and you quickly stop him with your foot as you press down on his shoulder roughly to force him back to the floor.

"Tsk tsk. No rewards for a bad dog who tries to walk when he should be crawling. Stay on your knees and come here."

Heat flushes across his face, his crooked nose glinting due to the slight sweat which sits across the bridge of it.

"Oops." He whines, playing into his role as he bares his teeth with a playful edge.

"Crawl." You beckon him with a finger, spreading your thighs invitingly to show him the mess that he was responsible for. "And you can show me just what a slobbering pup you truly are as you enjoy your meal."

For a man on his knees, he makes some speed, and it catches you off guard as thick, calloused hands envelop your outer thighs and his fingers knead into the flesh there to secure a steady grip while his face buries itself in your aching cunt. The sudden onslaught of sensation is intense and your back arches off the back of the chair as his stubble scores its way along your inner thighs as his breath teases at your hole.

Without hesitation, he dives in and his tongue licks a sordid line up your slit - ensuring that not a single inch was neglected as his tongue brushes across your throbbing clit. The small bit of contact makes your thighs clench in his grip and you feel the chuckle of his amusement as he repeats the feat until you growl and pull him away due to the overstimulation.

It's a mess. His sloppy movements somehow possessing absolutely no finesse as he switches his attention between your hole, his tongue swirling and pushing into you as he tastes everything you have to offer, and your clit, his lips circling the ultra-sensitive bud and sucking it roughly into his mouth. Your hands are rough in his hair, pulling at the ruddy strands until he grunts in discomfort, but nothing seems to put him off as he drinks in your every moan like a starving man.

"Digger!" You cry out, toes curling in the air as you dig your heels into his exposed, heavily tattooed back. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Never, darlin'." A muffled response, one almost muted by your cunt as it remains roughly pressing into his face. "Y'know me, I eat like an animal. Caviar or cunt - it's all good for ol’ Digger."

Choosing to ignore that sentence, you jerk his head forwards to fully put his smart mouth to better use. Shuddering into his enthusiasm once again, you settle in for the long run as you know his stamina will see you a ruined, writhing mess before the session is out.

"And don't even think about pulling away until your lips are numb, and I can't remember how much of a fucking pain in my ass you are."

Blunt teeth threaten your most sensitive skin for a moment and the sheer cheek of him brings a smirk to your lips which is quick to disappear as he resumes his role as the most eager little hound in Gotham.

[blurredcolour]

Take These Broken Wings

Dick Winters x Enlisted!Unnamed Female OC/Reader

Trapped behind his desk, Dick finds out the unthinkable has happened to the woman he cares about. Now he has to deal with the consequences; first as her commanding officer and then as the man who loves her.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Angst, Implied Sexual Assault, Descriptions of OC/Reader Injuries, Discussion of Retaliatory Violence, Gentleman's Agreement Not To Prosecute, Period Specific Ideas about Honor and Protection of Women, PTSD, Weapons, Language, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Self-indulgent canon divergence with little explanation ahead, read at your own risk. Because of the sensitive nature of this fic, I chose to write it in the third person but only a nickname is used so it can be read as a reader fic. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within, particularly the Red Devils in this case!

Special Note: Dearest tag list, I have chosen not to tag any of you because this is so wildly different than my usual fics, I just wasn't sure who would want to read it.

Word Count: 4148

-------------------------

October 17, 1944 – Schoonderlogt, Holland

It had never been his intention to fall in love with her. With any of the female paratroopers in the 506th, for that matter. But like the slow erosion of a river carving a new path through bare rock, she had ever so gradually hollowed out a place for herself in his heart until all at once he realized he could not live without her. Of course, if one were to ask her, she fell in love with Dick Winters the first day they met in Toccoa, Georgia, sun scorching their skin, blazing his hair copper – or so she liked to remind him often.

His realization had not come until he’d found her halfway up a tree in Normandy, tangled in the lines of her parachute, desperately trying to slice herself free before she was discovered by enemy troops. The sheer panic he had felt as his mind flooded with all the possible ways he could have lost her that night had only served to drive home how deeply he cared for Peaches. Dick didn’t often use the nickname that Nix had bestowed on her; a nickname born of some sordid adventure involving cans of peaches that he’d decided he’d rather not know about. But he did love the way it made her nose crinkle when he slipped it into their stolen moments together. Moments that were becoming harder and harder to find now that he had been placed in charge of 2nd Battalion.

Several pages being laid on his desk by Zielinski tore Dick out of his inner musings and he lifted his pen to add his signature to the line where his Orderly pointed expectantly. Sink had assured him the paperwork would be ‘nothing to sweat’ but Dick was certainly sweating it now. The call of Nixon’s voice as he came up the stairs was a welcome reprieve from the rapidly multiplying stacks of paper on his desk, something that his friend seemed only too happy to point out.

Dick could only feel envy, mixed with trepidation and a certain amount of helplessness, as Heyliger informed him Operation Pegasus was preparing to launch in a matter of hours and he remained trapped in his combination office and bedroom in the attic. As the pair of them made their way down the stairs and out of the requisitioned farmhouse, Dick looked up from his typewriter once more as he heard Nixon’s bright greeting.

“Hey there Peaches, you’ve got something on your face.”

“Very funny Captain. Lieutenant.” He heard her voice reply and did his best not to grin.

“Zielenski, could you go grab a new box of pencils from the storeroom? It’s going to be a long night.” Dick swallowed, doing his best to come up with an excuse for two minutes alone with her, five if he was lucky.

“Yes, sir.” There was a note of confusion in the man’s voice but thankfully he complied, hustling down the stairs.

There was a moment of silence before he heard the door shut followed by the sound of her jump boots scuffing up the worn wooden steps, grinning as she was startled to find him waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“And here I was thinking I’d surprise you…Who was that?” She glanced back towards the door, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, how’re you feeling about this thing?” He asked softly, taking her hands in his.

“Should be fine, Moose picked mostly people who can swim, the Canadians are nice. That Colonel Dobie sure is handsome.” She teased lightly, lacing her fingers with his.

Despite her teasing tone, Dick still felt a little annoyed at the comment, particularly given the fact that the man was free to swim the river in reconnaissance and join the operation that night while he was a glorified paper pusher.

“Too bad for him I like ‘em tall as a stalk of corn and copper as a penny.” She leaned in to press her lips to his and Dick felt his eyes fall shut, tension that he’d been carrying for hours slowly ebbing from his body.

She pulled back with a soft smile before frowning apologetically. “Sorry my love I got grease paint on you.” She licked her thumb and swiped at his cheek like he was a grubby toddler, and he could not help the broad grin that stretched his features even as he felt his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment she’d only recently begun to use.

“I’ll get it in a moment, Peaches.” He muttered, glancing around to ensure they were still alone before sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close, kissing her soundly. “Be safe out there…don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

“Oh, like run across a field toward two companies of SS by myself?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he pressed his lips together, still able to hear every word of her displeasure at being left behind for the agonizing seconds it took for the red smoke signal to appear.

“Especially that.” He muttered, clearing his throat and taking a step back as he heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs.

She quickly grabbed her handkerchief and soaked it with water from her canteen, passing it to him so he could scrub at his face, hopefully removing all evidence of their interlude.

“Pencils sir.” Zielenski held out the box proudly and she raised an eyebrow, introducing herself warmly to the Orderly.

“That’ll be all, Sergeant, good luck out there.”

“Thank you sir, appreciate your time.” She replied smoothly, looking completely unaffected while Dick was very aware of the residual heat in his face.

Dick took his time opening the box, watching her back as she slowly descended out of sight until the door closed shut behind her. Sinking into his chair he submitted himself to another few hours of pointing and signing with his Orderly before sending the boy to bed, peering out his window hopefully when a great ruckus arose from one of the barns out back.

Glancing at his watch to confirm it was nearly 0200, he smiled a little to himself as everything seemed to have gone off alright. Rain drops began to sporadically strike the windowpane before the clouds opened into a steady, driving rain. Dick dropped the curtain with a sigh, the room filled with the rhythmic sound of water striking the roof and rolling off the eaves. It was dangerously tempting to lay his head down on his desk and give in to the heaviness in his eyelids, to allow himself to be lulled to sleep. Shaking himself physically, he turned back to yet another report and began striking the keys of his typewriter with a vengeance, hoping to keep himself awake with the racket.

Dick was just spooling a fresh page into place when Nixon was suddenly hurrying up the stairs, followed by Colonel Dobie himself. Both men were wet as drowned rats, but it was the seriousness of their faces that pulled Dick to his feet immediately, securing the pencil from between his teeth into his fist.

“Dick, you remember Colonel Dobie.”

“Yeah…yeah I do…” He replied slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of a sword dangling over their heads as he waited for them to tell him what was going on.

“Terribly sorry to barge in at such a late hour but I wanted to inform you of this incident personally. Well, incidents more precisely. It appears that one of our men, a Holman from Yorkshire, has been severely beaten by a couple of your men from Easy in retaliation for his attack on one of your female soldiers.”

Dick nodded once as he processed the news, heartrate picking up immediately. There were a total of twenty-seven women in 2nd Battalion, but given that it had been only Easy involved in Pegasus, that narrowed it down to a possible nine, of which just a handful had been chosen for the operation. Dick merely had to glance at Nixon to confirm his worst fear. Peaches.

He didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pencil in his hand had grown until the wooden object snapped in two.

“I am willing to consider the matter settled and in need of no further action. The man in question will be returned to England and assigned to some menial duty once he recovers from his injuries.” Dobie continued.

“That will take some time?” Dick asked calmly, despite the searing rage he felt rushing through him.

“Your men were thorough, Captain.” The Colonel replied, grimly.

Dick stood there a moment, eyeing an ink stain that had seeped into the wooden desk top while he was refilling his pen, considering. A beating and unpleasant assignment as punishment for heaven knows what the man had inflicted on her. But to demand more formal proceedings would immediately require testimonies and punishments for the men who had taken it upon themselves to defend her honor. He closed his eyes a moment, vision immediately flooded with her smiling face on one of the blissful outings they had enjoyed during their furlough in England. Forcefully setting the image aside, despite the way it wrenched at his heart to do so, he nodded again. If only to save her further pain.

“Agreed.” Dick offered his hand, Colonel Dobie sealing their agreement with a firm handshake.

Dobie turned to shake Nixon’s hand as well before seeing himself out, Dick waiting until he heard the door close before he spoke again. Two questions on the tip of his tongue, two men inside him, warring for dominance. To his dismay, he had to allow the Battalion’s commanding officer to speak first.

“Who are our vigilantes?”

“Martin and Randleman.” Nixon replied, sitting on one of the folding chairs at the small table in the corner with a heavy sigh. “Moose has them downstairs if you want to talk to them.”

“Yeah. Show them up.”

Nixon leveraged himself out of the chair and was halfway across the attic before he suddenly turned back. “She put that can of peaches in Parkes’ footlocker.”

Dick eyed his friend in confusion, the information seeming utterly irrelevant to their current situation until he suddenly remembered one of Sobel’s impromptu barracks inspections back in Toccoa.

“That dumb bastard wouldn’t leave the women in her squad alone, so she planted it there to get him in trouble – never expected him to get thrown out entirely.” Nixon sighed heavily.

“Where is she?” Dick asked quickly, the words almost melding together in his haste to get them out of his mouth.

“Johnny thinks she’s holed up in the supply barn, I’ll find out.” Nixon replied with a frown and Dick nodded silently, muscles of his jaw clenching almost painfully as he clung to the last vestiges of his focus.

He tossed the broken halves of the pencil onto the desk, frowning at the mess of lead on his palm and pulled the handkerchief from his pocket, frown deepening at the smudges of grease paint there from her face. He clenched the fabric between his fingers as Moose entered the office followed by a hard-faced Martin and a typically laidback Randleman.

“What happened?” He asked plainly, eyeing them expectantly.

Moose stood off to the side, watching Martin and Randleman exchange a look.

“Don’t all talk at once…” Dick prodded calmly, and Martin turned back to him.

“Bull and I were on our way out of the celebration, wanted to beat the rain and get back to our quarters – didn’t work out. Ran into Peaches as we got around the corner of the building. She looked like hell, roughed up, wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

“She just ran, not like her at all, sir.” Randleman chimed in.

“And then that bastard from the Devils, or whatever they call themselves, came around the corner looking all pleased with himself. Adjusting his pants.”

“Knuckles busted up.” Came Randleman’s addition once more.

“Anyway,” Martin continued after a sharp nod of agreement, “it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Dick exhaled a slow, measured breath. “I can appreciate why you both did what you did. Next time, and we can only hope we never have to have this conversation again, bring him to Moose, to me. We have systems in place, alright?”

“Sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All that said…well done.” Dick said with quiet emphasis, letting his pride and gratitude burn brightly in his gaze. “And you’re both on latrine duty for the next two weeks.” He tacked on because he really had no choice but to punish them.

A pair of smirking salutes was the only response before Moose ushered them out. Dick waited until the count of twenty before sliding the suspenders of his OD pants onto his shoulders, shrugging into his jacket and clapping on his helmet. Grabbing his M1 and flashlight, he quickly made his way down the stairs and out into the persistent deluge toward the supply barn, nearly slamming into Nixon on the way.

“Follow me.” His friend nodded and continued to lead the way, nodding to Liebgott who was standing guard at the door, soaked to the skin.

“Joe.” Dick greeted him, noting the way he had his collar turned up obscuring half his face. The way his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

It easily could have been in an attempt to protect himself against the elements, but Dick also knew Liebgott was the sort of man to never let anything go unanswered and if he was standing out here in the rain, he was surely more involved than anyone was letting on.

“Peaches is in there, sir. Doc Roe tried to help her, she wouldn’t let him touch her. Thought I’d make sure no one bothered her until she was ready.”

“Good thinking.” Dick swallowed.

He ought to press further, ferret out the truth of Liebgott’s involvement, but standing just outside where she was hiding, the other half of him was very much in charge now – wanting nothing more than to throw the door open and charge in. But by the sounds of it, that approach would be quite unwelcome.

“Why don’t you go warm up for a bit, we’ll take a turn.” Nixon said to Liebgott who looked between the pair of them before nodding in return.

“Thanks, sir.” He agreed, glancing back toward the barn once before jogging off into the night.

Dick waited until they were well and truly alone before slowly opening the door, stepping into the dim space, sliding his helmet from his head. The sound of footsteps retreating into the far corner behind crates of supplies drew his attention and he took a slow breath, calling her name softly.

“It’s me. Dick. I’m here to check on you.”

There was a soft, smothered sound and he clenched his fists, keeping his progress gradual and measured, trying not to make any sudden movements or noises to startle her. As he reached the rear of the barn, he rounded a stack of crates and his heart clenched painfully as his eyes fell on her wedged between a few bundles of blankets and sacks of something it was too dark to read the labels of. Her knees were hugged tightly to her chest, M1 tucked into the crook of her elbow as she eyed him warily in the dark.

Her normally tidy hair was in disarray, and the side of her face that he could see sported a gash across her eyebrow. He took another step closer, the air shuddering from his lungs as she flinched away, pressing tightly into the wall behind her, revealing her split lower lip, the swelling along her left cheekbone, the barely-dried tear tracks on her face.

Dick had never seen her shy away from anything since the day they’d met – not the obstacle course, the rifle range, Currahee, or jumping out of a C-47. For his proximity to garner such a reaction from her felt very much as though she had torn his heart from his breast and stomped it beneath her heel.

Sinking slowly into a crouch, he swallowed before speaking just above a whisper. “Peaches…”

The look of disgust, whether it was at the nickname or at herself – perhaps both, mixed with horror that crossed her face had Dick seriously considering if he had enough time to find Holman before his trip back to England and land a few blows himself. He gently corrected it with her name, teeth grinding together audibly in his skull as she turned her head to the side revealing small knicks at her throat. He’d held her at knife point.

“They’ve already found him. Some of the boys took justice into their own hands, but his superiors know now too.” He tried to reassure her, let her know he was no longer out there, no longer a threat to her.

Dick’s eyes dropped to follow the movement of her fingers as she picked at the torn ends of her nails, several cuts visible on her hands as well. Knowing her she’d probably put up a hell of a fight.

“P–” He stopped himself before he accidentally used the offensive nickname again. “…please you’re hurt. Can I clean you up?” He asked, voice trembling with the emotions he was desperately trying to keep at bay for her sake as he shifted forward onto his knees.

She shook her head violently in response, hugging her limbs tighter to her body, which hadn’t even seemed a possibility until it was done. Dick swallowed painfully, carefully laying his rifle and helmet down on the wooden floor beside him, sitting back on his heels.

“I love you.” He blinked rapidly at the gathering dampness in his eyelashes. “No matter what’s happened, I will always love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She eyed him skeptically, no words passing between them for a long while. The sound of the persistent rain outside pounding against the roof filled the barn, drowning out the sound of their breathing, until she opened her mouth to speak at last.

“I froze.” She whispered, tone thick with self-loathing as she released her grip on her M1, laying it down beside his before sealing her palm over her mouth.

She began to shake with sobs so ferocious that no sound passed her throat, rendering the smothering effect of her hand unnecessary. Dick felt his heart shatter as he automatically reached for her, wanting nothing more than to pull her close and soothe some of her pain. Her repeated aversion to his touch, however, came flooding back and he froze, arms outstretched and aching to hold her, but wanting to respect her wishes.

The feeling of her body colliding with his chest as she launched herself into his arms punched the air from his lungs for several reasons, nearly sending him toppling over backwards with the force of it. Dick’s arms quickly gathered her onto his lap, one hand rubbing along her spine as her strangled sobs soaked his jacket, her hands clutching at him in return.

“You survived, my love.” He whispered against her hair, deciding he really ought to call her that in kind. It was only fitting for it was exactly how he felt. “You did what you had to do to survive in that moment. Please forgive yourself.”

He felt her shift against his sternum, the shudders wracking her body gradually slowing as she took deeper and deeper breaths, sniffling and wiping at her face carefully.

“Who did you have to yell at?” She murmured wetly, peering up at him cautiously.

“Martin and Randleman. Fairly certain Liebgott is somehow involved as well.” Dick replied softly, fighting back the urge to stroke her face. One step at a time – being allowed to hold her would more than suffice for now.

She sniffed. “Johnny must have figured it out first. I couldn’t even come up with a plausible lie I just…ran away from him outside the party…” Her eyes lowered in shame before she sat up slowly, Dick biting back a frown at the barely concealed wince that crossed her features.

“Nix is outside keeping watch. Can I take you back to CP? Get you cleaned up?” He swallowed, really wanting her to allow Roe to look her over but doubting that would be an option.

She looked to him, eyes suddenly wide with the terror of realization. “Oh god Dick, what if I catch something or…wind up pregnant…oh fuck…” Her face began to crumple, and Dick swallowed, quickly cupping her uninjured cheek hoping to startle her out of that train of thought.

As she jumped and looked to him sharply, he apologized gently. “My love, we don’t know if any of those things will happen. Hopefully they won’t, but no matter what comes next, we’re going to face it together.”

“But Dick I’m–”

“Don’t go and say something melodramatic, now. You’re the woman I love and something horrible has been done to you. It doesn’t change who you are to me.” He replied firmly, swallowing as she stared at him startled for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Now I’m taking you to CP and we’re getting you cleaned up, ok?”

“Should I salute you, Captain?” She raised an eyebrow before wincing and restoring her face to a neutral expression.

He felt his cheeks redden, a sure sign that things would some day return back to normal. That the woman he loved was still with him, she just needed a lot of care right now and he was more than happy to provide it. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” He replied and tried not to smirk as she scoffed slightly in surprise before shifting to her feet slowly.

Dick passed her rifle to her before grabbing his own, rising to his feet and sliding his helmet on his head. He offered his hand to her, swallowing back his sigh of relief as she laced her battered fingers through his and followed him out through the maze of supplies to where Nixon was still waiting in the rain.

“Christ, Peaches…” He breathed when she came into view and Dick shot him a sharp look, trying, too late, to stop him using the nickname.

“Son-of-a-bitch ruined the nickname, Nix. I trust you to come up with a new one.” She sighed, sounding positively exhausted, and Nixon nodded quickly in reply.

“Noted. You sure you’re alright?” He asked softly and she shook her head.

“No. But someday, maybe.” She replied honestly and Nixon nodded empathetically as Dick squeezed her hand gently.

“Let’s get out of this rain.” He led the three of them back into the farmhouse, taking her straight to the washroom where he filled the basin with water. “Help or no?”

She paused a moment, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror left behind by the home’s original owners and Dick waited patiently until she turned back to him. “I can do it.” She replied softly and he nodded, closing the door to wait in the hall.

Nixon shuffled by carrying his pillow and Dick raised an eyebrow. “Give her my bed, I’ll take your crappy little cot.” He muttered, making his way to the attic before he even had the chance to reply.

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall, thoroughly spent by the events of the day, knowing he’d have to be up in just a few hours to face the rest of the paperwork on his desk.

“Dick?” Her soft voice startled him, making him realize he’d actually fallen asleep standing up, for just a moment.

Her lips twitched slightly with a hint of amusement, and he smiled slightly in return, nodding as she looked more herself despite the still-fresh injuries.

“This way.” He offered his hand and led her towards Nixon’s room, gesturing at the bed. “Gift from Lew.”

Her face softened, eyes glistening suddenly, reminding Dick just how fragile she still was. “Where is he sleeping?”

“Attic.”

“Then you need a bed too…” She replied as she crawled onto the mattress, sighing at the softness of the bedding.

“Oh, the floor is fine I…”

“Please hold me.” Her voice was small, her request simple and one that he did not need to hear twice to honor.

He unlaced his boots and removed his outer layers before crawling in with her, letting her curl up against him before sliding his arm around her carefully. “Comfortable?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“Very.” She replied sleepily and he allowed himself to drift, listening to the rise and fall of her breath, letting sleep nibble at the edges of his consciousness.

“Dick?” She whispered and he snuffled awake quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Does it smell like pee in here?”

-------------------------

Band of Brothers Masterlist

[artiststarme]

Death Waits For No One… Except Eddie Munson

Warning: Temporary Character Death

Could be read as Part 2 of This Post

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~

Eddie dies. He knew it was coming, felt it as soon as he’d stepped foot into the sordid little town as a puny and pale eleven year old. There was a grim acceptance that he wouldn’t survive long enough to leave. He spent his years being as authentic and genuine as possible; loud, eccentric, world-devastatingly handsome with awesome hair, and completely and utterly metal.

He spent his adolescence in Hawkins being true to himself, being someone that he could be proud of. However, there was always an undercurrent of danger. Being different in a small town where everyone else is the same is a hazard and Eddie wondered things everyday.

Would this be the day it ends?

Would Hargrove, Hagan, or any other small minded jock choose today to bash his head in?

Would the cops make an example of the weird “devil-worshipping”, rock n’ roll, high school fiend today?

Sometimes death was the cost of being different and he had accepted that.

Eddie, and unfortunately Wayne, had seen it coming for years and were not so eagerly awaiting his demise. Whether it be a beating from a bully gone too far, an overdose like his Ma, or a fiery crash, they lived each day in tentative hope that he’d escape death’s clutches once again. Neither one of them expected him to die in a haunted parallel universe in pain, cold and alone, with blood in his mouth and holes bitten through his flesh.

Eddie watched Dustin grieve him through teary eyes as the cold set in, warm blood leaking from his wounds and a numbness settling in his bones. He distantly heard Steve screaming for the both of them and maybe even the uncoordinated footfalls from Robin as she ran towards them. He tried to hang on, gripping the last dredges of life with both hands. Eventually though, his eyes closed with the weight of the world and his heart sluggishly slowed its beat.

The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced closed was Steve shoving a crying Dustin aside with determined eyes and a frown on his face. He felt a vague pressure center in his chest before everything faded to black.

Death wasn’t the peace or nothingness that he expected. It wasn’t bright lights or past memories flashing in front of your eyes. He was conscious, worriedly wondering if his friends had made it home from the Upside Down and how Wayne would take the news, if the Party could even tell him anything.

His death was a nightmare to him, everything he hated; darkness, silence, and too much time to ruminate on his thoughts. There was nothing to see and his feet were getting cold in an inch or so of standing water. Wonderful. The only noise he could hear was the blood from his deepest wounds dripping to the water at his feet.

He didn’t know how long he was there. Standing there, admittedly freaking out more than a little bit, and doing nothing could’ve taken three minutes or thirty years.

But when he opened his eyes again after a slow blink, he was back in the Upside Down next to his trailer. His wounds still throbbed with each heartbeat and he could feel the stickiness of blood clinging to his war outfit. Upon further surveillance, he noticed his favorite necklace with his mother’s old guitar pick was missing. Those fucking bats probably ate it. He considered rifling through the rotting carcasses surrounding him before letting out a sigh. He didn’t have the energy to perform necropsies.

The next thing that made itself known was the heat. Eddie remembered the Upside Down being cold, a strange mixture of humid and frigid. But now, the air was practically sizzling with heat and it made the stickiness of blood even more unbearable.

It wouldn’t stop Eddie though. He was apparently still alive after facing death once more. If anything could be said about Eddie, it was that he was a survivor. So, he pulled himself up despite his agony and set out on the trek of a lifetime. He climbed through the gate in his trailer, ignoring the cooking of his flesh and the pain accompanying the burns. He flopped onto the unforgiving carpet of his trailer that he really should’ve cleaned when Wayne told him to. Then he went to Steve’s because if anyone could help him, it was him.

He didn’t expect the town to be in chaos or the rippling chasms of fire that lengthened his walk.

He hid in trees when cars passed him but no one paid him any mind. Everyone was too apt to get out of town than they were to pay the walking zombie (so he supposed) any mind.

Eddie walked until he was standing over a sleeping Steve in his room in the Harrington house. He wasn’t sleeping peacefully and Eddie could imagine why.

“Hey, Harrington. Wake up, it’s okay. You’re dreaming.”

Steve jerked awake and started screaming his fool head off. Eddie stumbled back in surprise and hissed as the movement pulled at the worst of his wounds.

“Shh! Harrington, Jesus H. Christ, calm down. Holy shit, I thought you’d be the calm one. Calm down, please god,” Eddie breathed through the pain and calmed him. He probably looked like shit so he understood Steve’s fright. A small part of him, his inflated ego probably, took offense though he wouldn’t voice it.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice was tinged with disbelief as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing.

He beamed, “I see we’re on a first name basis now, Stevie. If I knew this was all I had to do, I would’ve died a long time ago!”

Steve threw himself forward into Eddie’s arms with a soft gasp of pain and Eddie let out an oomph of surprise and pain in response.

“You’re not going to be here in the morning, are you?” Steve whispered into the crook of his neck.

Eddie’s shaky hand latched onto Steve’s shoulder to deepen the hug. “Hell Steve, I’ll never leave you again if you’ll have me.”

Steve fell asleep on top of him in what appeared to be his first restful slumber in weeks. Eddie wasn’t going to ruin that. Instead of treating his wounds or showering Upside Down grime and dried blood off, he ran a hand through Steve’s hair and closed his eyes. It would all be there in the morning, after all. What could a little shut-eye hurt?

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[tmwcs]

Heethan fingering me with gloves on.

MDNI 18+ content below.

“Run little rabbit, run….before the big bad wolf finds you.”

His voice creaks and echoes in the still air as you hid. You messed up…big time. He warned you to avoid talking to other boys at school, but when one of your classmates came over and asked you out on a date, even upon hearing your polite refusal the man leaned in, hugged you and whispered…

“Just think about it. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You were disgusted. How could he think you were the type to do such a thing?

Well….needless to say, the boy was taken care of…by your fiancé. And it must have been brutal and deadly, considering the blood splatter on Heeseung’s shirt, along with his sweet, angelic voice humming and singing a tune of how the boys face expressed fear and panic when he delivered the “finishing blow.”

But…you were still wrong…because even though you politely declined the man’s offer before he rudely assumed that you were the sordid type, your politeness caused you to make a grave mistake….

“Why did you let him hug you? Why didn’t you push him off? Why did you allow someone else to touch what’s mine?”

You ran for nearly thirty minutes until you found yourself hidden away in the wooded tree line that surrounded the entire campus grounds.

“I’m….I should be safe.”

……….

“Think again.”

His voice startled you and you began to scream until you felt his leather gloves hand cover your mouth. “Shhh…little rabbit…do I have to knock you out for you to be quiet?”

You eagerly shook your head and called your muffled moans. He kisses you tenderly on the ear. “Good girl.”

His free hand, also gloves, travels down in between your legs, taking full advantage of the short skirt you had on. “Now, about your punishment…”

You started to tear up, trying to tell him it wasn’t your fault even though he watched from afar and saw the whole thing. How were you going to explain yourself? You should have pushed the man off.

“I think the entire weekend will get my point across. So…let’s get started.”

His keeps a steady hold on your neck as he pins your back to his chest, and his smooth leathered fingers scoot your panties aside as he starts to thrust his index in…then his middle…and his ring.

You gushed in no time, it was hard to believe he was mad. Maybe the chase calmed him to be that toying devil of a man that he was, and to inflict pain and pleasure in the way that you absolutely hated…and loved.

“You fucking like that, don’t you?” He chuckles as he buries his face into the side of your head. The more he thrusted, the more you wanted. His fingers along with the semi-thick material if the fine leather was euphoric, it has you screaming. Thank God no one wa s around to hear you…therefore avoiding interruption.

“Oh God yes! Yes! Please…please don’t stop…Heeseung don’t stop!”

“Wrong name baby girl.” He speeds up his fingered thrusts and starts incorporating a scissoring motion each time his phalanges go inside.

“Uuuuugh….”

You melted. Literally, had it not been for his hold on your neck, along with the hook of his fingers, you would have fallen to the ground. You start to drool, and see double. “Oooooooh ffffffuck!!! Mmmmm!!” You cry out in ecstatic pleasure.

“That’s right baby, get nice and wet for daddy.”

He tenderly kisses your ear. His fingering thrusts are relentless as you soak through his leathered gloves. The heavy, whipped cream begins to ring around each finger as he continues to pumps all three in and out of your cavity.

“Ah!! Oh God!!!” Your body breaks down as you feel his chest heaving against your back shoulders, breathing heavily as he flexed his arms to squelch his fingers at a rapid pace, to the point where you could take it anymore and let loose, cumming all over his fine leathered glove.

Raising his hand delicately to observer the glistening shine that coated the material, he looks down at you. “Now, clean it up.” His calm, affectionate and lustful demeanor is replaced with the usual demanding and angry persona of having seeing another man with his arms around you.

Grabbing your hair, he pushes you down as he shifts and rests his palm atop your head. “Lick it up you pretty little thing….my bad…but pretty little rabbit.”

He gives you that psychotic, wide eyed stare and you couldn’t help but feel aroused all over again. This was the look of a possessive man who wanted you and no one else, but you…could anyone blame you? Blame you for being so weak in the knees over that handsome face looking so deadly as it stares down at you, but having nothing but the best and most intense sexual intentions behind it…all for you.

Could they truly blame you?

“Good girl, after you clean it all off I got something else for that pretty mouth to lick up.”

No…they can’t.

“I’m sorry…I’m so so sorry…” you moaned as you tenderly kicked each gloved finger and slurped it clean. You were desperate for more of him, to the point where you spoke, kneeled, and acted no better than a filthy whore…his whore. “I’m so sorry…” you heavily breathed out.

“Oh yeah, I betchya are.” He pats your head with his free hand, running his fingers through your hair. His psychotic gaze calms, just a tiny bit, giving him a more relaxed and tired look as he watches you unzip his trousers to feed out his shaft.

“I’m so sorry…please…please do everything to me….do everything to me….”

He smirks at your resolve. “Oh babydoll….by the end of this weekend, you’re going to scream out the exact opposite. I promise.”

[thetypedwriter]

The Grandest Game Book Review

The Grandest Game Book Review by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

I feel like I’m writing about Jennifer Lynn Barnes constantly. 

Thankfully, this is not a case of diminishing returns. 

In fact, this might be Jennifer Lynn Barnes’ best novel yet, which is astounding to me. 

The Grandest Game is now the…fifth book in the Inheritance Games series which is insane, but it’s also the first installment in a spinoff series.

So related but not a direct sequel, although you would be lacking in a significant amount of understanding if you had not read the first four books of the Inheritance Games.

At this point, Jennifer Lynn Barnes is becoming the new Cassandra Clare.

But back to The Grandest Game, one of the key differences is instead of focusing on Avery and the Hawthorne brothers, this novel focuses on other players that have either been invited to play or won themselves a nomination. 

The Grandest Game itself is not that noteworthy, but the plot essentially boils down to this: Avery has set up a competition game where the prize money is $26 million.

Most of the game includes the players getting involuntarily put into teams and trying to solve a series of riddles and puzzles while attempting escape-room antics. 

Avery and the Hawthrone brothers are in the novel, but they’re in the periphery and largely unimportant other than the history they have with the players and the fact that they have masterminded the game. 

However, I can not emphasize enough how much better the book is by not focusing on them. Avery was never much more than a Mary-Sue from the get go and the Hawthorne brothers were all largely one-dimensional cliches.

The side characters who take center stage in this novel are a huge improvement, personality and interest wise. 

Rohan we know from the last book, The Brother Hawthorne, and his POV is fascinating. I’ve always had a soft spot for characters who are selfish and conniving, two characteristics Rohan has in droves. 

However, he also has a good motivation for playing the Grandest Game—getting money to take over the Devil’s Mercy, a secret club that he’s been a part of since he was a child. His penchant for winning always makes his POV fun to read. 

His relationship with Savannah, while predictable, was also really charming. I love relationships that are fierce and fiery, have cat-and-mouse banter, and are between two very stubborn people who don’t want to admit defeat. Every chapter with them working as a team was titillating. 

The POV I enjoyed the most was Gigi’s. Her fun, bubbly personality and bright way of connecting with people and seeing the world was fresh, fun, and authentic.

Her interactions with Knox and Brady were hilarious, but also strangely deep and intriguing, as they were both new characters with a sordid and complicated past with each other. 

Gigi’s intellect shone through while others constantly underestimated her, a plot point that never got old. Gigi trying to piece together what happened with Knox and Brady, while at the same time learning she’s bugged and trying to untangle the larger mystery of who’s on the island, was the most riveting part of the story for me. 

The last POV was for a character named Lyra Kane. Essentially, she’s Avery 2.0. I disliked her POV the most, especially as her motivation to win–saving her childhood home—while nice, was boring.

She also had the hackneyed story arc of being attracted to Grayson Hawthorne while incessantly telling herself to stay away from him (without success). 

The most interesting part of this POV was Grayson’s and Lyra’s interaction with their third teammate, Odette, an older woman who was once involved with Tobias Hawthorne.

I liked Odette’s backstory and the diversity of having an older character, but she was too cryptic throughout the whole novel and then decided to give up her spot at the end, a choice that riddled me with frustration and made her character dip in the favorite department. 

That being said, these three POV’s were still a huge improvement from the banality of Avery’s mind and the vapid love triangle she found herself in of the previous books. 

Instead, we have two interesting perspectives (plus Lyra) to carry this new spinoff series forward, a journey I am wholeheartedly ready to embark on.

Plus, all the riddles are a lot of fun to try and piece together as a reader. It may not be the most complicated of plots, but it’s entertaining and the characters propel it forward with their intersecting relationships and personal motivations. 

Recommendation: The best Jennifer Lynn Barnes novel yet. Read it and try to solve as many of the puzzles as you can (I got two of them!).

Score: 8/10