One-half of Deux Lectrices, writing about the things I read.
It wasn’t an easily identifiable ring—not a signet or the like—but that was all right.
I have witnesses who will testify you were here. You won’t get away with it this time.”
He's a fucking moron. Literally every character in here is just getting ruined cause Cross can't write them.
I never said I wouldn’t steal her again.”
By all means, let him. Then, ONCE A-FUCKING-GAIN, call the cops and let them know that, hey, this man threatened to steal it.
“I’m sorry, but his lordship is not at home today.”
That was a lie. Jack could hear it plainly in her voice. This was what the rich did when they didn’t want to see someone.“I’m going to see him.”
“Please leave, sir—”
“Listen, woman,” he growled, stepping up to the mirror so she could see his expression. “Let me in, or I’ll go ’round back and start breaking windows til I get to the right one.”
There was a pause. Then the door opened.
SO tired of this bullshit. Let him do it, then call the police, rob his fucking house blind, and leave him in prison to rot.
Finley had sent him a note. He didn’t read it either.
It's from Mary Sue tho, I'm ps it's crime against humanity to ignore her.
She wasn’t human, but she wasn’t entirely machine either. How was such a creature even possible? And why, when he looked at her, did she remind him of Finley? Finley was beautiful. This was not.
This is literally where I get off with the series. I can't take anymore of "we already know a person like this, Sam," and then needless fucking shoehorning in of Mary Sue's bland ass.
Its smooth metal head nodded. “Take it and go. More are coming.”
WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FUCKING SCENE?
A metal man came out of the ground, said, "don't take it," Jack said, "no, we are, to this address" and then the thing was like, "yeah, alright take it"
He wasn’t going to think of Mum or that bastard again today. Enough was enough.
GOD, IT REALLY FUCKING IS.
But ofc, we'll be hearing about this again...
two hundred each for the evening. It was a small fortune in Whitechapel,
Um, #researchfail again, that IS actually a fortune for the times.
Even Finley had asked him if he’d killed August-Raynes, the rat bastard who’d dared lay hands on her.
He beat her ass and quite frankly is my hero for it.
His own mother had told him he looked like Lucifer himself—a beautiful angel forever denied the embrace of Heaven.
I see someone's been taking CC level writing classes.
At his feet, the two moaned in pain,
MOURNING for any type of problem a character could face and not IMMEDIATELY overcome.
He hadn’t felt this good since he met Finley.
I just hate so much about this series.
The two blokes had crawled off hours ago, and since a constable hadn’t come by yet to arrest him, Jack assumed one wouldn’t come calling at all,
God ofc. They couldn't go running to anyone saying you, a known criminal, killed their friend and beat them up because that would give you a problem you couldn't get out of.
He would never be his father’s social equal, but he could better him financially. If he could cripple him in the process that would just be buttercream on the cake.
This series just does not understand how influential society was back then...
“On either side, else I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
Let the arrogant nob chew on that for a moment.
WHY ARE YOU SO HATEABLE NOW?!!?!?!
“Indeed not. I was given your direction by—”
“Don’t.” Jack held up his hand. “Who hardly matters. I’m more concerned with why.”
I can't. Why the hell is it so hard for you to write times-appropriate shit when you talk so much about loving research, Cross?
She curtsied—ignoring Jack
“I think you intimidate her.”
Oh, fuck you, you were rude to her and now you act like you deserve her attention?