#green agenda lies

[dosesofcommonsense]

The Green New Deal is a Utopia, a false reality just like communism. The GND doesn’t save the planet; it kills the planet and humanity at the same time.

—-

Batteries🔋 do not create electricity ⚡ but they store electricity produced elsewhere, especially through coal, uranium, natural power plants or diesel generators.

So the claim that an electric 🚗 is a zero-emission vehicle is not true at all, because the electricity produced comes from power plants and many of them burn coal or gas.

So 40% today ? some of electric cars on the road are carbon-based.

But that's not everything.

Those who are enthusiastic about electric cars and the green revolution should take a closer look at batteries, but also wind turbines and solar panels.

A typical electric car battery weighs 450 kg, about as big as a suitcase. It contains 11 kg of lithium, 27 kg of nickel, 20 kg of manganese, 14 kg of cobalt, 90 kg of copper and 180 kg of aluminum, steel and plastic. There are more than 6,000 individual lithium-ion cells inside.

To make each BEV battery, you will need to process 11,000 kg of salt for lithium, 15,000 kg of cobalt mineral, 2.270 kg of resin for nickel and 11,000 kg of copper mineral.

In total, you have to extract 225,000 kilograms of soil for one battery.

The biggest problem with solar systems is the chemicals used to convert silicate into the gravel used for the panels.

To produce sufficient clean silicon, it must be treated with chloride, sulfuric acid, fluoride, trichloroethane and acetone.

In addition, gallium, arsenide, copper-indian-galium diselenuride and cadmium telluride are necessary, which are also highly toxic.

Silicone dust is a hazard to workers and tiles cannot be recycled.

Wind turbines are not plus-ultra in terms of cost and environmental destruction.

Each windmill weighs 1,688 tons (equivalent to the weight of 23 houses) and contains 1300 tons of concrete, 295 tons of steel, 48 tons of iron, 24 tons of fiberglass and rare lands that are hard-to-get Neodymium, Praseodymium and Dyprosium.

Each of the three shovels weighs 40,000 kg and has a lifespan of 15 to 20 years, after which they must be replaced. We cannot recycle used rotor blades.

Certainly these technologies can have their place, but we need to look beyond the myth of freedom of emission. Going Green may seem like a utopian ideal, but if you look at the hidden and embedded costs in a realistic and impartial way, you’ll find that “Going Green” is doing more damage to the Earth’s environment today than it seems.

Image credit: Jeff Spring Shu

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Tell me, tell me, tell me

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your husband doesn't handle change well and falls into old habits.

This is one of my birthday drabbles. Of course, little lies had a lot of votes and has earned it's own little add on. Thanks again for your input :) Enjoy.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A birthday drabble for Little Lies 

You sit up and smile as the man exits Loki’s office. He looks content but your husband looks less than as he appears in the doorway. He crosses his arms and watches the candidate leave. You’ve gone through this routine at least two dozen times this week. 

“How was it?” You ask. 

He hums flatly and stares after the man’s departure. 

“His resume was great. What’s wrong?” 

Loki pouts and looks at you. He stands straight and crosses his arms. “He’s not you.” 

“Oh, I know. I’m so talented at keeping your agenda,” you retort dryly. “You can’t keep doing this. You have to hire someone.” 

“Don’t you understand?” He strides forward and stops just on the other side of your desk. His hands drop to his hips. “You’re asking me to replace you. That’s impossible.” 

“Ha, when did you get so sentimental?” You ignore him for the email on your screen. 

“Since the day you broke your leg, actually.” 

“Shut up,” you snip without looking up. 

“Truly. As worried as I might’ve been, I do miss those crutches. You were... manageable then.” 

You shake your head. “Well, you never are, but I’m hoping you can find an assistant that can do a somewhat decent job of it.”

He huffs and slithers around the desk. He sits on the corner, crowding you. “It won’t matter. I’ll be a mess without you, darling.” 

“I screened him. What was wrong with Peter?” You challenge, leaning back in your chair to face him. 

“Little upstart. I don’t need him flirting with my clients,” he harrumphs. 

“As if you don’t.” 

“On my honour,” he puts his hand to his chest, “I’ve changed my ways. You know it. I gave my vows.” 

“Uh huh.” You tut and check the time. “Well, who else? Jacqueline was good. She has a great CV and she’s very warm and welcoming.” 

“But I adore the way you snarl at me. It makes me...” Loki trails off and touches his belt. 

“You’re looking for an assistant,” you remind him. 

“Yes, but I will be losing my wife.” 

“That’s dramatic. It’s not like you can’t come see me. I can come back too between terms.” 

“School. You’re leaving me for school,” he mopes and shakes his head. 

“I’m trying to better myself, Lo. I don’t want to be your secretary my whole life.” 

“Personal Assistant,” he corrects. “Prized Asset.” 

“Ugh, you are so--” you put your hand up in exasperation. “This isn’t about the job. You’ll just call the temp agency, huh? So, you don’t have to pay benefits.” 

He shrugs guiltily as he examines the wall behind you. 

“What is this really about?” You insist. 

“Nothing.” 

“Tell me.” 

“I swear, I’ll miss you--” 

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll miss you too. Blah blah blah,” you flutter your fingers at him and push yourself to your feet. You go to him and he looks at you with those sparkling green eyes. You put your hands on his shoulders and he instinctively frames your hips. “What is bothering you so much?” 

He stares at you then looks down. His lips thin and he tilts his head one way then the other. His gaze flicks back up to you. A grin creases his face and he laughs, “it’s foolish. Stupid! I shouldn’t worry.” 

“Loki,” you warn. 

He sighs. He peeks over at the door and his mouth slants. “You’re going to meet a lot of young men. Like that Peter.” 

You narrow your eyes and frown. Then you smile and scoff. You grab his chin and make him look at you, “you’re worried I’m going to meet some young gun and ditch my old man?” 

“Old? I wouldn’t use that word,” he winces. 

“You really think I would run off with some young hunk? With big burly shoulders and a nice chest...” Your let your tone drift into a dreamy drone. “Oh and thick hair and stamina like no one’s business...” 

“Hey!” He pokes your side and you cackle. 

“Loki, I’m not going to do anything like that. I’ll be far too busy studying and I’m too old for all that. Those twenty-year olds don’t want me. Now, hire a replacement so I can deal with all this nonsense.” You caress his cheek and give a smile. 

“You underestimate those twenty-year old cads. I once was one and I would've pounced on you at once.” 

“Oh really. Because you’re like forty and took years.” 

“Eh, let’s not toss around numbers here.” He sniffs. “I’m just saying that you are a beautiful woman, obviously. I married you. And those young ones, well, they like the allure of an older woman.” 

“Alright, alright,” you pat his shoulder. “Let it go.” You exhale and look him in the face. He stares back at you and squeezes your hips. “I’ll miss you.” 

His cheeks dust with pink and he smirks, “I'll miss you too, darling.” 

“You better.” 

His eyes fog and slowly crawl down. You squirm as he stands, crowding you, and his hands grazes along your sides. He walks his fingertips up and down and grips your waist again. He spins you suddenly, pinning you against the desk. 

“Let me be your young gun, eh? Show you this old man’s still got it.” He purrs. 

“Lo,” you rub his chest. 

“I can’t have you running off not thinking of me and how I’d put any of them to shame.” He winks and leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “Mm, Mrs. Laufeyson, is that what you want? A sweet young thing. I’ve not lost my touch, believe me.” 

“Lo,” you put your hand over one of his. 

“I feel you trembling, darling.” 

“Not here,” you tug on his hand. 

“Anywhere.” He urges you back until you hit the desk.  

He leans in until you’re forced to brace the desk. You strain backward and he reaches around to swipe the desk clear. Your monitor and laptop teeter dangerously near the edge as the rest of your things scatter. You gasp. 

“Loki!” 

“I’ll buy new ones,” he lifts you at once and puts you on the desk. 

“You can’t--” 

“I am.” 

He puts his hand under your chin and forces your head up. His thumb rubs along your cheekbones as he marvels down at you. He exhales and tickles your nose with his. You scrunch up your face and he presses a kiss to your lips. 

You push against his chest as his tongue glides along your lips. You murmur and try to resist. You never can. His hand brushes up and down your side then hooks up to your neck. He holds your head between his hands as he invades your mouth. He consumes you as he shifts and pushes between your knees. 

You clutch his lapel and part from his lips with a gulp. “Loki--” 

“Let me remind you who you married, darling. It was no old man,” he yanks his tie free as he clings to the front of your blouse, bunching it as he keeps you snagged. He tosses the silk and draws you back to him. 

You giggle, cheeks vibrant with heat, and shake your head. “Oh, I know who I married.” 

“And you will keep it in mind with those young lads.”  

He pinches a button, tediously undoing it with a single hand. He snarls and withdraws briefly to tear open his shirts. Buttons scatter as he snarls and steps up once more. He cradles your head in his hands and enshrines you in another fervent kiss, this one has you breathless. 

You put your hands on your chest, feeling the way his muscle tenses with need. He shudders as you drag your touch down to his stomach and the firm muscle clenches. He growls into you and bends you until your back is against the desk. He pins you there as he runs his hand down the length of your figure. 

He hooks his thumb beneath the hem of your dress and pushes the skirt up. You wriggle and feel blindly along his belt. He twitches as you latch onto his buckle. He hums and parts from your mouth, gasping against your cheek. 

His belt clinks open at your blind tugging and you pick open his fly. He growls and nips your ear lobe, laying a trail of kisses across your jaw and down your neck. He pants slacken and you push them down with his briefs. He springs free and wiggles his hips so his belt slides lower. 

He pulls your rear over the edge and flutters his fingers along your thigh. You curl your other leg around him as he tickles the front of your panties. He presses your clit through the thin fabric. You draw his mouth back to yours hungrily.  

Your tongues meet in a flurry of need and dread. You need each other right then and dread the separation to come. You’ve been outrunning that fact. That distance will not be easy, even so much as you’ve longed for it. 

He rubs you through your panties until he can feel you seeping through. He traces the trim of the lingerie and peels them away from your cunt. The satin bunches against your thigh as he flips your skirt up and moves closer. 

You know each other by touch. He finds you without hesitation. He slides into you in a single lunge and you drone in delight. Your turn your head as his wet lips smear over your cheek. He groans as your walls squeeze him. 

“Darling,” he drawls. 

You puff and arch your back, hooking your legs so that your heels press into the back of his thighs. You tilt your hips, goading him on as he takes his long, patient strokes. That pace he keeps when he means to torture. 

You snarl and grab his chin. You force his head up, “I thought you said you weren’t going to fuck me like an old man.” 

His eyes flicker and his lips curve into a devious smirk. He slams his hips against you and you cry out. Your nails dig into his jaw and you laugh through your teeth. He does it again, jolting the desk with you, and you quiver around him. 

“Oh, yes,” you grit. “You can do it, old man.” 

“Old. Man.” He chuffs out and rams into your again. 

You chuckle only to be met with another blunt rut. Your voice fizzles to a squeal.  

He traces along the top of your dress and drags the sleeve down your shoulder. He follows the cut of the bodice and uncovers your bra beneath. He quickly pulls the strap down and flips the cup inside out. He fondles you at once.  

His hips pump into you, harder and harder. His thumb flicks over your nipple, swirling around to tease. He hunches and dips down to take the bud between his teeth. He snarls and bucks faster. You hug him between your thighs and wrap an around his head. 

His other hand snakes down between your bodies. He pushes against your clit, the motion of his pelvis moving his fingers against you. The friction melds into the pressure inside. Your eyes roll back as you cling to his shoulder, your other hand on his lower back, beckoning him deeper. 

His harried grunts punctuate your soft moans, the slap of flesh and constant clink of his buckle adding to the twisted melody of your fucking. You roll your hips up into his. Just a little more. 

Your thighs shake and the swell in your core threatens to boil over. Your voice begins to crest and suddenly, he stops. You groan and clamp onto his side. You try to pull him down as he lifts himself. He keeps only his tip inside of you.  

Your eyes snap open as he flings his tussled hair back and looks you in the face. Your brows furrow. 

“Old man?” He challenges. 

“Lo...” you breathe, “please.” 

“No, no, that is what you said. So, allow me to prove you wrong.” He snickers and nips at your lower lip. “I can keep up, can you?” 

He dips into you slowly and you whine. Your head lolls and your lashes flutter. You bare your teeth at him and hiss. “I hate you.” 

“How can you hate this, darling?” He rears back and thrusts again. “Mm, I feel the way you’re clinging to me.” 

“Just--” You flare your nose and turn your head straight. “Do it. Old man.” 

His irises spark and he snaps his hips. You yipe and he twirls his fingertips against your clit. You shudder at the sensation. 

“Oh ho, darling, do you want to cum?” 

“Loki--” 

“Tell me you want to cum.” 

“Lo--” 

“Beg me.” He commands and pulls his fingers away. The coolness left in the shadow of his touch makes you squirm. “I did vow to serve you, darling, but I cannot if you do not say what you want.” 

Frustration, desperation, call it what you will. You whimper and reach for his hand. You guide it back to your clit and growl, “make me cum.” 

It’s his turn to shiver. He twists his hand away from yours to grab your fingers and pushes them to your bud. You gasp as he uses them to rub you instead. As he does, his hips fall into tempo. 

He fucks you so the desk scrapes the floor and his thighs hits the sharp edge. He raises himself as he spreads a hand across your stomach and watches himself delves into you, over and over. He guides your fingers in a frantic rhythm and the tension clusters beneath your own touch. 

You spasm and cry out, legs locked around his as you trap him inside you. 

“Oh, yes, make me cum, Loki, make me--” you descend into a stream of gibberish as you contort on the desk. You bite your knuckles to silence yourself, heaving wildly as your lungs burn and your skin tingles. 

“Um...” a knock sounds at the door and Loki halts mid-thrust. You share a startled look then slowly glance over at the open door. Shit. The last interviewee, Peter, stands dumbfounded as he peers in from the hall. “I, uh, forgot my phone in your office.” 

“Well,” Loki clears his throat and looks down at you with a sinister gleam. “Go and get it. Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors? - Ep. 6

I got my bizcochitos and boozy and spicy cinnamon dark hot chocolate (not champurrado, never champurrado), so I'm tipsy, jolly, and ready to watch episode six of The Heart Killers for Joong.

I mean for Fadel.

WAIT! I mean for colors!

Eff the colors! I'm here for water-based lube and condoms! Thank goodness for parents who advocate for safe sex, so I can get myself together after seeing Fadel do the walk of NO shame since Fadel should not feel ashamed for enjoying sex! Thanks, dad, for reminding me of my priorities!

Hold up! Are we switching to Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice now?! Because that story dealt with lies and manipulation leading to multiple murders, and we all believe Mother has lied and manipulated these boys into killing others for her own agenda. *sips boozy hot chocolate*

Black Brooder Fadel is lightening up but is wearing red and Red Rascal Bison is wearing blue, so does this mean Style is a Red Rascal and Kant is a Blue Boy? I think the behind-the-scenes people are lying to me.

Style is wearing red again! And Kant is still on his bullshit, but they are sitting at a blue covered table. Does that mean anything?

It would be easier if Kant was a Green Guy (or even a Yellow Yal). It just makes more sense!

Because, regardless of what Bison thinks about blue, he is a Red Rascal.

See! Look at the blue disappear when he becomes passionate!

And a Green Guy would complement him and his aggressive and passionate personality. He would balance him out, and he would be the chill to Bison's no-chill self. They'd be chiles! They'd be Christmas!

And Style would make far more sense as a Red Rascal because of the way he brings out Fadel's desires!

Are you really a Blue Boy, Style?! I don't know because Dunk's arms are distracting me!

But I do know that I would go anywhere and do anything for this man just like Style does. If Fadel wanted to go to Top Golf, I'd go to that stupid frat bro place for my man. If Fadel wanted to go hunting in the woods for a week, I, a vegetarian, would go sit with him in silence for eight to twelve hours a day and make just enough noise to warn the animals, so he couldn't shoot any of them. And if he wanted me to eat Colorado green chile, I would NEVER DO IT because that's fake green chile and a stew, but I'd watch him eat it (while I eat Hatch like a proper person). That's the power of Joong Fadel.

Alexa, play Letters from Cleo's version of "I Want You to Want Me" from 10 Things I Hate About You!

Didn't I see you cryin' Feelin' all alone without a friend You know you feel like dyin' Oh didn't I see you cryin' I want you to want me I need you to need me I'd love you to love me I'm beggin' you to beg me

This is literally the only color I trust in this show right now, Cinematographer Rath.

BECAUSE PINK = 💕LOVE💕

Oh, thank goodness, the brothers are back to their true colors, and by that I mean chloroforming people until they pass out.

WHAT ARE YOUR COLORS?! JUST TELL ME ALREADY!

Now is not the time to serve cunt. Put those tits back in, you two!

Interesting that Mother is not in full red, but like a dulled orange-ish red.

Even more interesting that Keen matches her. I'd be wary of this kid if I was Bison and Fadel.

Kant is now giving me Beetlejuice and Foot Locker realness, but, thankfully, Style is offering me up some of that Blue Boy-ness I keep hearing about. Yes, Style, be loyal to your man! You are in love with a criminal and this type isn't rational; it's physical.

WHY ARE YOU WEARING RED AGAIN THOUGH?! Is it for love?! Fadel is, once again, light. He loves you too, Style. HE LOVES YOU TOO!

Bison is fully back in red now, and I do not think it's because of 💕love💕. 😬😬😬

Kant thought he was going to put Bison behind bars.

But it's about to get very gay and murderous up in here. In the words of one of my favorite Kesha songs, "This place about to blow" and not how Bison usually does it for Kant.

Kant, this twink is going to end you.

That's what you get for not showing your true color.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

With the whole anti-Daemon agenda Condal and Hess have going, I am surprised they didn’t pile on him more lies and bullshit told by his enemies in the book.

Let’s be real here. The only death which Daemon might have had something to do with pre-war in actual canon, was Laenor’s (and there’s a lot of grey area here too).

Let’s recap:

1. Rhea Royce: in canon, she died nine days after she fell off her horse. You would think that if Daemon had done something to her, she would have said something to someone in those nine days she spent suffering. Whether or not Daemon was in the Vale at this time (many claim he was in the Stepstones), is irrelevant. The guy got lucky, that’s it. He wanted to be rid of this long and unwanted union and the Gods granted him this wish.

2. Harwin Strong: the idea is even more absurd than the one previously mentioned. At least with Rhea, Daemon could have had true motive. What motive could he possibly have for torching Harrenhal and murdering Lyonel and Harwin Strong? Harwin had been invaluable to the City Watch, and Lyonel was a very decent and loyal Hand.

The only thing that could determine Daemon to do this would be jealousy. Jealousy that Harwin was rumored to be Rhaenyra’s lover and the father of her three sons.

But do you honestly expect me to believe that he went through all that trouble, and created such massive destruction because he was petty? He had nothing to gain from Harwin’s death.

But you know who had something to gain? The Greens. They got rid of Lyonel Strong to place Otto Hightower back in the very influential position as Hand of the King, and getting rid of Harwin managed to hurt Rhaenyra (as a plus).

3. Laenor Velaryon: there are two theories here and I kind of think both are possible. Either his lover killed him out of jealousy, or Daemon arranged to have him killed so he could marry Rhaenyra. I am more inclined to believe that Daemon arranged it, however there are a couple of things that still bug me:

Corlys is Daemon’s best friend. Would Daemon risk his friendship with him in such a way? You would think that Daemon and Rhaenyra are both smart enough to realize that if they marry soon after Laenor’s death, the Realm would whisper that they had something to do with this death. And if Corlys and Rhaenys both believed these rumors, they would have broken off relations with Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately. And so, the Blacks would have lost the Velaryon support.

But that’s not what happened. Corlys and Rhaenys both stood firmly by Daemon and Rhaenyra from start to finish.

So, it is very possible that Daemon might have gotten lucky again, and Laenor died in the right moment. And since there was no point wasting time, Daemon and Rhaenyra married after only a few months, standing firmly against the Greens.

Bottom line: Condal, stop trying to turn Daemon into a villain in a desperate attempt to make a certain faction look better.

[romanceclub-confessionss]

Confession:

"Ava is such an interesting LI. In another book the "rich heiress of an authoritative family who is a brat but actually just has depression" would have been absolutely boring overdone trope with no character development a very boring green flag LI.  And yet because she is in Soulless the world weirdest book in terms of Li's choices. Having a gal who is a genuine person who doesn't try to make excuses or and with no hidden agenda is such a breathe of fresh air frankly. I am now team Ava cause she deserves the world."

[captainsophiestark]

At Peace With You

Finn Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day 30 Prompt: "Are you with me?"

Summary: When Finn is undaggered and starts conspiring with his mother to destroy the Originals, Elijah calls in the one person who might be able to convince him this immortal life is worth living: his wife.

Word Count: 3,898

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

After more than 900 years of being a vampire, not a lot surprised me anymore. But when I woke up one morning to a call from Elijah Mikaelson, surprise bordering on shock was the overwhelming emotion.

I'd picked up the call without thinking about it, without checking the number. Even though I hadn't spoken to Elijah in hundreds of years, I still recognized his voice in an instant. He asked if he'd dialed the right number to reach me, and all I could do was exist in shocked silence for a few long moments.

I waited to respond for a few extra moments after snapping out of it, briefly debating hanging up. If it had been a different Mikaelson sibling, I would have done it. But if Elijah had tracked down my number to call me, I figured it must be for something important.

"...Yeah, Elijah, it's me. What do you... what do you want?"

I could hear his heavy sigh on the other end of the line, and I had to bite back a laugh. Once upon a time, I'd started to consider that sigh of exasperation the familiar gesture of family.

"Niklaus has broken his curse," he finally said. My heart stopped dead, but I tried not to let it show in my voice.

"Okay. And what does that have to do with me?"

"Niklaus also managed to kill our father, Mikael, and now that he's succeeded... he's undaggered our siblings."

"What?" I breathed. This couldn't be real. I must've been dreaming or something.

"He kept his word to me, albeit after taking advantage of a loophole," Elijah continued. "Finn has been undaggered, along with Kol and Rebekah. We're in Mystic Falls."

I sat down heavily in the nearest chair, my mind reeling. I'd been in love with Finn from the moment I'd met him, literal ages and lifetimes ago. We'd been inseparable from the moment Finn first started courting me, and although his family initially had mixed feelings, Finn had turned me and we'd gotten married with (mostly) full support.

And then, about fifty years into our marriage, Klaus had gotten angry at Finn, and daggered him. I'd spent about another fifty trying to get him back, until Klaus had almost killed me. He'd told me the next time I made a "rescue attempt", he wouldn't hold back. I was ready to keep going anyway, until he also threatened to dump Finn's body in the ocean, never to be found. I couldn't risk him following through. So I'd mourned the love of my life as if he was dead, and then I'd ditched every last other member of his family for good.

Until now. The thought that he was back, finally, free from that stupid box... It didn't seem real.

"Elijah, I've had very little issue with you in our long, long lives, but all the same... why should I believe you?"

"Why would I lie?"

"For Klaus."

"To accomplish what?"

I paused at that. I racked my brain, but I couldn't think of anything the middlest Mikaelson would possibly want with me. If there was something, I would've heard from him before now. And I hadn't. He'd left me alone for the past 850 years.

"Finn has been undaggered for a few days," Elijah continued, correctly reading my lack of protest as a green flag to continue. "I used my connections to track you down because we have a problem, and it seems like one you would be best able to solve."

Now it was my turn for an exasperated sigh through my nose.

"So you did call me for an agenda."

"One that serves you and Finn both." I rolled my eyes, and although Elijah couldn't see it, I had a feeling he knew what I was doing. "Our mother has mysteriously returned from the dead. Like our father, she is determined to wipe us off the Earth, as she feels our current forms are abominations. Unlike our father, she's been trying to talk us into agreeing with her and choosing to end our own lives."

I gasped, a scowl making its way onto my face. I didn't exactly love all of the Mikaelson siblings, but for a mother to try to convince her own children to kill themselves was absolutely horrific, no matter how many times I'd thought about killing her children myself.

"She hasn't made any inroads with any of us," Elijah reassured me. "Except... for Finn."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. Since being undaggered, my brother has expressed freely his feelings that immortality, especially as a vampire, is a curse that he wishes to end. My mother has only fed this mindset, and now I fear the two of them are working together to end all of us."

"And what do you want me to do about that, exactly?" I asked, even as I moved around my house to start packing a bag. If there was even a glimmer of hope that I could help Finn, I would. Even after 900 years, I knew if the positions were reversed, he would do the same for me.

"I'm hoping you can talk him off the ledge, so to speak," Elijah answered. "Keep everyone alive and well."

"I'm going to stop you right there, Elijah. It feels like you're building to threatening Finn, and I've had enough of that from your family for a million more lifetimes. I'll be there later today. Just tell me where I can find Finn."

"...I'll make sure he's at the Mystic Grill. It's a restaurant in the middle of town, you can't miss it."

"Great. See you in a few hours."

I hung up before he could say anything else.

Quickly, I finished throwing my things into a bag, then hurried out to my car. I had no time to waste if I wanted to save Finn.

Luckily for me, the drive only took a few hours, which gave me time to process everything Elijah had told me and that I'd have to face in Mystic Falls. It still didn't feel quite real that I was about to see Finn again.

That hazy dream finally faded when I walked through the doors of the Mystic Grill, my bags still in the car. I scanned the room and like a heat-seeking missile found Elijah in a corner booth, sitting across from someone who still had their back to me. The last time I'd seen Finn, he'd had hair down past his shoulders. But even from the back, with a new haircut and modern clothing, I knew it was him.

I quickly crossed the room, my heart speeding up with every step, until I stood before both of them. Elijah immediately turned to look at me, but I only had eyes for Finn.

He looked remarkably good, considering he'd been in a box for 900 years. He stared at Elijah with a raised eyebrow, then slowly turned to follow Elijah's gaze until he saw me.

The world stopped, and everyone else in the room disappeared. Finn, my Finn, the one I thought I'd lost any hope of ever seeing again, the man I loved beyond all else, was here. Sitting before me, looking at me with familiar hazel eyes. Alive.

"Finn," I breathed, the smallest of smiles tugging itself onto my face. An instant later, thanks to vampire speed, he had me wrapped tight in his arms. He breathed my name into my hair, so quietly that even Elijah's super-hearing probably didn't catch it. I squeezed him tight, a few tears leaking out as I did. He was back. He was really back, and alive. No dagger or gray skin or anything else that haunted my nightmares.

"How did you know I was here?" he finally asked, pulling back with awe on his face. I smiled and nodded towards his brother.

"Elijah found my number and called me. Can we talk?"

Finn glanced back at Elijah with slightly narrowed eyes, then looked back at me.

"...Yes. Lead the way."

I didn't know the town any better than he did, but I also didn't want to hang around the Grill in earshot of Elijah for this reunion, so I pulled Finn towards the door. We wandered towards the park, and after a quick scan of the area to make sure we weren't being eavesdropped on, I led him to a bench where we could sit together.

"I'm... so happy to see you, Finn," I said, taking his hands in mine and fighting to hold back another round of tears. "I hope you know... I tried to get you out sooner. I really did. I just... I wasn't strong enough. I am so, so sorry."

He shook his head, squeezing my hands a little in reassurance.

"It's alright. I'm glad I'm getting to see you again."

"Before you let Esther kill you?" Finn's eyebrows shot up, and I pursed my lips. "Elijah told me what you're planning to do, Finn. It's why he called me in the first place. I would've come running no matter what, but none of your siblings would've reached out to me without some other motive. We both know that."

Finn sighed through his nose and shook his head.

"And that is exactly why our time on Earth needs to come to an end. Monstrous behavior like that has become normal for them. For us. It has to stop."

"Does that include me?" Finn's gaze had wandered to other parts of the park, but it snapped back to me at my words. "Your umbrella of monstrous vampire behavior that has to stop. Am I under it just by virtue of being one?"

He sighed, staring down at our joined hands for a long, long time before looking up at me, pain in his eyes.

"I wish I could say no. My heart wants to say no. But... you've lived a long life in the years I've been gone. I don't really know you. Not who you are now."

I looked away, the gears turning in my brain as I nodded thoughtfully. He had a point; I had changed a lot in my 900 years wandering this Earth without him. But I still loved him, and I hadn't changed so drastically that he wouldn't recognize the new me.

"I have an idea," I said, turning back to him with a smile. "Let's go away together. Come back home with me for... a week. Let's get to know each other all over again, and I can show you why I've decided it's worth it to stick around all these hundreds of years. Alright?"

Finn frowned. "I don't know... my mother-"

"Has had her time to make her case. And if you really want to, you can come back here to her whenever you want. But you're my husband, Finn. Nine hundred years, and I've only ever loved you. So now it's my turn."

The barest hint of a smile quirked up the corner of his mouth.

"It seems like you haven't changed much, in a few ways at least."

I grinned. "I didn't need much longer than we had together to get good at telling off pushy family members of yours. The only one who's ever bested me was Klaus, and I don't intend to ever let that happen again. If your mother's trying to walk you off the ledge... she's gonna have to go through me."

Finn sighed, pulling me to my feet with him as he stood. I worried for a second, until his small smile reappeared and he met my eyes.

"Let's go home, then. For a week. Wherever 'home' is for you."

****************

I wasted absolutely no time loading Finn into my car and getting the hell out of town. It was going to be a lot of driving for one day, but it would be worth it. I had no intention of letting any of his family members get in my way. I'd never even had to unpack my bag.

As we left Mystic Falls behind us and pulled onto the highway, I put on my favorite playlist and shot Finn a grin.

"How much have your siblings caught you up on everything you missed over the last nine hundred years?" I asked. Finn frowned and shook his head.

"Very little. Do we really need to be going this fast?"

"Yes," I said, pointedly hitting the accelerator as I got up to speed with the rest of traffic. "Don't worry, I'm a fantastic driver. I promise it's normal and safe."

"Hm." Finn nodded, still looking a little unconvinced, so I reached over to take his hand.

"First lesson on the wonders of life, Finn: Road trips are the best. We've got about four hours to cruise, talk, listen to music, and stop for the most deliciously, bad-for-you food imaginable."

Finn huffed a small laugh. "I suppose that could be fun."

I grinned, cranking up the volume on the song playing, one of my favorites.

"I'll take it!"

****************

Slowly, over the course of the rest of the drive, Finn loosened up a little. He'd always been the most formal and reserved of his siblings, but when we were together, he'd always relaxed around me. This time, it took a little longer to get there, but around the second hour he started laughing at my stupid jokes and asking questions about things he saw that he found interesting. By the time I pulled up in front of my house a few hours later, he had a smile on his face and the tension had mostly eased out of his shoulders.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked, eyes surveying the house as I grabbed my unused bag out of the backseat.

"Oh, probably close to a decade. I've had the house for a lot longer than that, but I move in and out pretty regularly, since it would be obvious to my neighbors after a while that I'm not aging."

Finn nodded thoughtfully. "And does that ever bother you? The constant moving, the lying. The leaving."

"Sometimes," I said with a shrug. "But I like traveling and exploring the world. This way, I get to do that while also having a home to come back to after everything. It's more often than not been the best of both worlds for me."

"Hm. And do I need to be invited in?"

I grinned. "Nope! The house is mine. Unlike your siblings and quite a few other vampires, I haven't spent my eternity making enemies, so at least so far I haven't needed to keep other vampires out."

Finn chuckled, and the sound made a warm feeling grow in my chest. He looked happy, and seeing him glowing as he walked towards the front door of the place I called home was exactly the thing I'd been dreaming of for 900 years.

As if on-cue to interrupt my moment, my phone rang. I glanced at it to find Elijah's number staring back at me and huffed a sigh.

"Finn, would you mind taking my bag inside? I need to take this."

"Of course, my love." He gave me a soft smile as he took my bag, then headed for the front door. I watched him for an extra second, the fading light of twilight painting the world in a soft glow, then answered my phone with a sigh.

"What do you want, Elijah?" I said, not bothering with a hello. I turned my back to Finn and walked a few steps away, hoping he'd be too focused on the house to listen in on my conversation with his brother. I didn't want anything messing up our week away, especially not family drama.

"Where is Finn?" Elijah asked, his tone a bit demanding. I narrowed my eyes.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because, as I remember mentioning to you, he's in the middle of trying to plot with our mother to kill all of us. I'd like to be aware of his location and progress for my own sake, and the sake of my family."

"Finn is family, and family you left rotting in a box for nine hundred years," I spat. I took a deep breath, getting my anger slightly more under control, then continued. "Finn is with me. I'm going to spend some time with my husband, thank you very much, and hopefully throughout the course of that I'm going to convince him it's worth telling your mother to go to hell to stay here with me. Our goals are aligned in keeping Finn from letting your mother destroy your entire family, Elijah, and that knowledge is just going to have to be good enough for you. We're supposed to be family, too, so you at least owe me that."

I hung up before Elijah could get another word in. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, then took a couple deep breaths before finally turning back around to head into the house. I was going to enjoy my week with Finn, and I was not going to let anyone get in our way.

I wandered inside to find Finn just sort of standing in the middle of the room, looking around. I showed him around and helped him get settled, and the two of us spent the night the same way we'd spent the drive, talking and telling stories and catching up after being apart.

We made dinner together, and I introduced Finn to the wonders of boxed mac 'n cheese before convincing him to sit down and watch my favorite Disney movie with me. It was late, so we went to bed right after the first one, but Finn seemed to enjoy it enough that he'd probably want to watch more after we got some rest.

For the first time in a long time, I drifted off with the comfort of Finn next to me, alive and well. I was determined to do whatever it took to avoid losing him ever, ever again.

****************

The next week felt like heaven on Earth. Finn and I quickly fell into a new, easy, happy routine together, exploring the place I'd called home for so long during the day (while also getting him more caught up on the modern world) and watching ridiculous movies on the couch together long into the night. I didn't want it to end, but I knew that if we disappeared for too long, Esther or one of her other kids would come looking for us. Finn and I needed to settle the issue once and for all, sooner rather than later.

But first, I had one last trick up my sleeve.

"So... we're supposed to go back to Mystic Falls in the morning," I said, leaning my elbows on the counter as I met Finn's eyes across the island. "But there's one more thing that I do as a regular part of my vampire life that I'm going to keep doing, no matter what. Fortunately for both of us, I think you might like it too."

Finn raised an eyebrow, and I gave him a soft smile before pushing off the island.

"Come on. Follow me."

He did, without hesitation. I tried to hide just how much that made me smile.

Finn and I walked from the house deeper into the downtown area, where people still walked back and forth despite the late hour. Finn carefully took in all our surroundings as I led him along, falling back into my normal routine.

As an immortal with superstrength, superspeed, and mind control, I was safe walking around at night basically no matter what. But also as a woman, I remembered plenty of times where I hadn't been safe. Or where I would've been in serious trouble if I hadn't had superpowers on my side. So, on a regular basis, and even more often when I started feeling down about being a vampire, I walked around at night acting as an avenging shadow, making sure any woman I came across got home safe. Crime rates tended to drop, at least for a little while, in whatever city I lived in and various muggers realized they had a real-life, superpowered Batman going after anybody trying to hurt people in the shadows.

I ducked into a dark alleyway, and Finn followed me, still looking curious. I smiled at him, then explained what I'd been doing for the past 900 years. As I spoke, a smile appeared on his face and steadily grew to a beaming pride I hadn't seen since our first few years together.

"That is... an excellent idea," he said, still looking at me like I'd hung the moon. I smiled back.

"Thank you. I've been back here long enough that I don't think we'll find too many things to put a stop to tonight, but... what do you say we look anyway?"

Finn nodded. "I'll follow you."

I took Finn's hand and pulled him along with me down the rest of the alleyway, ducking into the nearest bar on the other side. After grabbing a few drinks and compelling a few leering men to change their behavior, we popped back out onto the street to clear the next place.

Finn and I worked like a charm together, like we'd been working as a team for the last 900 years instead of just me by myself. Although the city was fairly safe, we still found plenty of ways to make an impact, and had a blast together going from place to place too. When we finally went back home around two in the morning, we were both laughing, and I swear Finn seemed lighter than he had all week.

"Well, that was my pitch," I said, flopping backwards into bed. Another perk of vampire speed was how quickly I could get ready for bed, especially when I was this tired. "I hope you liked it."

"I did. I liked it very much."

"I'm glad." Finn laid down next to me a beat later, and I rolled over to fix him with a smile. "So, how about it, Finn. I say we ditch your mom and the rest of your siblings, like I've been doing for centuries. Live our eternity together, doing good and just being happy. What do you say? Are you with me?"

Finn sighed, his gaze roving over every inch of my face. With every second the silence stretched my stomach churned, worried I'd failed, or that I should've waited until morning to ask, or a thousand different things I should've done differently. Finally, Finn's jaw clenched and he sighed through his nose before bringing his eyes to meet mine.

"I am with you. Always and forever."

I surged forward, rapidly closing the distance between us to wrap Finn in the tightest hug imaginable. After a second he wrapped his arms around me, too, holding me against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, steadily reminding me he was here with me, and I absolutely never wanted to let go.

"I'll call my mother in the morning," he muttered into my hair, rubbing soothing circles on my back. "Tell her I'm not going to help her. There's too much worth living for, and plenty of ways to exist without being monsters."

"And I'll call Elijah. Tell him you're officially stepping back, and to keep the drama the hell out of our life together once and for all."

Finn chuckled, the sound vibrations rumbling through his chest. With Finn officially here to stay, with me, the way we should've been a long time ago, I felt more at peace than I had in a long, long time. And I was going to make sure nothing ruined that peace, ever again.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part 12)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Please comment and engage!

The following morning, when Cillian got out of bed late at around 10 o'clock, he was surprised when he saw you in the living-room with his young daughter Sadie, practicing  some arts and crafts for the girl's elementary school project.

"Where is your mum?" he asked you, as he walked into the living room, looking at his daughter's artwork spread across the table.

"Dress shopping with Cloira," you replied, glancing up from the delicate string of origami flowers you were working on. 

"Really?" Cillian asked. "Again?" he questioned, a hint of irritation in his voice. He ran a hand through his unruly hair, glancing at the mess of glitter and paper scattered everywhere.

"Again," you verified with a smile, having heard similar comments from him whenever you both found yourselves home together, especially during weekdays. Sadie turned to her father, holding up a paper flower with painted petals.

“Look, Dad! I made this one for you!”

Cillian's face softened, his earlier irritation melting away like snow under the sun.

“That’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, bending down to examine Sadie's creation. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, watching her beam with pride.

"Thank you for helping her with the school project, Y/N," Cillian remarked, coming closer to you and observing the origami flowers as well. "You have a talent for that," he complimented you, a genuine smile playing on his lips as he admired your work ethic.

"Thank you. I enjoy doing it," you replied with a blush, feeling warm at the sincerity in his compliment. You adjusted your glasses as they slipped down your nose and shifted your focus back to the delicate origami flower you were working on, focusing on the intricate folds and patterns.

Sadie bounced in her chair, glue smeared across her cheeks. “Daddy, are you going to help us?" she then asked and, of course, Cillian agreed with a chuckle, looking between you and Sadie.

“Alright, what’s next on the agenda?” he asked, sitting down next to you in a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, which was what he usually wore to bed.

Sadie’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “We need to attach the flowers to this big piece of cardboard!” Sadie exclaimed, her tiny hands grasping a roll of sticky tape.

Cillian tilted his head, a teasing smile creeping across his face. “Cardboard, huh?"

“Yes. I already painted it green. We are making a garden!” Sadie declared, pointing to the green piece of paper.

"This will look like a pretty wild garden," Cillian remarked as he gently took the roll of tape from her hands.

“Here, you can stick some flowers right there!” you encouraged Cillian, gesturing to the bottom corner of the cardboard, having to guide Cillian more than Sadie.

Cillian frowned playfully, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “You sure this is the right spot?” he asked, glancing between you and the cardboard, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"Yes," you chuckled and, when your fingers traced Cillian's hand inadvertendly, you noticed him swallowing hard, his gaze briefly flickering to yours before darting back to the project.

Cillian pressed the flower onto the cardboard, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as he turned to you. “This is harder than I thought,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice tinged with mock seriousness.

"Oh come on," you chided him playfully, elbowing his arm lightly. "This is child’s play.”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, feigning offense. “But I am not very skilled when it comes to art and craft," he admitted with a self-deprecating grin.

"Well, you are, but maybe not when it comes to DYI, I guess," you responded, crossing your arms with a teasing smirk as, suddenly, your phone started to ring.

Seeing Jeremy's number flash across the screen, you picked up quickly, realising that it waas probably about work.

"Hey, what's up?" you asked, your voice light and cheerfull.

“Y/N, are you free to cover Mona's shift today? Three o'clock to nine? Then maybe a few drinks with me after? If you want to," he asked, while Cillian seemingly listened in.

“Uh, yeah, I can cover for Mona,” you replied, stealing a glance at Cillian. His expression shifted, a tightness around his mouth encouraging your heart to stutter.

“Great! I’ll see you then,” Jeremy confirmed, his tone cheery, but Cillian’s presence next to you grew palpable, a tension settling like dust in the air.

You hung up the phone and caught Cillian watching you, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone cautious.

“Yeah, just covering a shift today,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders, trying to sound casual while Cillian's gaze weighed heavy on you.

"This Jeremy guy seems to like you, giving you that much work and responsibility already," Cillian's voice held an edge of scrutiny, his fingers absently grazing another torn paper flower.

“He is my boss and I think I am doing well, which might be why," you responded, forcing a lightness into your voice. Cillian raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism creeping into his expression.

“Right,” he said, his tone lacking conviction. “Just be careful. It's not really how guys work, you know," he cautioned you. "He might have alternate motives," Cillian then went on to say, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean by alternate motive?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, the corner of your lips pulling into an amused smile.

Cillian's gaze shifted briefly to Sadie, who had returned to her crafting, seemingly oblivious to the conversation between her father and you.

“Just saying, sometimes guys like this are a bit too friendly, thinking that they might have a shot, you know,” Cillian remarked, a hint of protectiveness coloring his words.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "The other day, I wasn't so sure, but now you do definatly sound jealous," you whispered so Sadie would not hear.

Cillian's eyebrows shot up, a chuckle escaping him. “If you say so," he said, his lips twitching into a grin before you decided to change the topic.

"Well, since I have to go to work in a few hours, and seeing how you are up now, I think I should be getting my exercise routine in for the day and go for a quick run," you said, looking up to meet Cillian's gaze.

"By all means, go for it. I've got this project covered, isn't that right Sadie?" he chuckled as he ruffled Sadie’s hair, making her giggle.

“Uh-huh!” Sadie nodded eagerly, focused on arranging more flowers on the cardboard as you stood up from your seat to get changed.

You disappeared into your room to put on short top and some running pants , before lacing up your running shoes, tightening them so that they would not give you any trouble on your run.

Then you went back downstairs, walking into the kitchen to have a drink, purposly brushing against Cillian as you passed him, feeling a spark of electricity at the brief contact.

He looked at you, staring almost, inhaling your scent as if trying to etch it into his memory. His expression flickered, a mixture of surprise and something deeper lurking beneath the surface as you give him a purposful smile.

"Have fun with the glitter glue," you teased as you stepped into the hallway, before disappearing through the front door.

The cold morning crisp air welcomed you as you stepped outside, filling your lungs with a refreshing burst of freshness that gave you a sudden surge of energy.

You started off slow, stretching out your muscles on the running path through the park that lead into the woods.

The leaves crunched underfoot as you picked up the pace, letting the peaceful, quiet atmosphere wash over you and ground you.

It was a perfect time to clear your head and refresh your thoughts.

But as you ran, a persistent voice in your head wouldn't leave you alone. The connections with Cillian that felt so intense and alluring were becoming more difficult to forget, especially when you found yourself spending more time in his presence.

***

When you arrived back home an hour later, sweaty and exhausted, you saw that Cillian and Sadie had finished  the origami project and they were now both admiring their work at the kitchen table. Sadie's smile was electric, making you happy for her.

"Did you both enjoy that?" you asked as you approached them, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It was so fun, even though daddy had no idea what to do really," Sadie chuckled , poking fun at her father.

Cillian feigned hurt, but the smile on his face told you that he didn't mind the joke one bit.

"Well, I am glad you both finished it," you observed, admiring the beautiful and intricate origami figures that they had made.

"Yep we did! And daddy spilled all the glitter, which was pretty funny," Sadie beamed, showing off her work proudly.

"I can see that. It's all over the floor and his face too," you chuckled before wiping  some glitter off Cillian's cheek. It was a small and innocent gesture, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you as your fingertips grazed his skin.

Cillian's gaze met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Seeing you sweaty and glowing from your run, with your hair tied up in a messy bun, made something inside of him stir. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time, and he quickly looked away, trying to shake off the feeling.

"I should stretch and then take a shower," you said, breaking the silence that had fallen between you both. Cillian's eyes followed you as you stepped back, hesitant to break the spell of intimacy lingering in the air.

You quickly made your exit, heading towards the living room and leaving Cillian and Sadie behind in the kitchen. But as you walked away, you could feel Cillian's eyes on you, following your every move. And that feeling sent a thrill down your spine, making your heartbeat faster. In the living room, you attempted to shake off the lingering warmth of Cillian's gaze.

As you stretched your muscles out on the living room floor, you couldn't help but replay the past week's events in your mind. You had developed feelings for Cillian, your stepfather, and it had started the moment he had moved into the house. It began as a flicker, a subtle admiration blossoming over time until you slept with him and ach stolen glance, each accidental touch since intensified your feelings, and now, you wrestled with the mounting guilt laced with exhilaration.

Undoubtedly, he had some feelings for you too and, unbeknownst to you, was watching you from afar, admiring you from a distance.

Seeing your sweaty hair tied in a messy bun, your body stretched out on the floor, performing various yoga poses as you loosened up before your run, all these sights invaded his thoughts, creating confusion and turmoil in his mind.

He wanted you , oh, he did so badly. He wanted to touch you, feel your skin underneath his hands, to hear your moans and see your eyes practically begging for more. 

But no, he couldn't. You were his stepdaughter, and he couldn't cross that line again. It was a mistake in the first place and the guilt he felt was intense. Not only was it guilt for cheating on his wife, but doing it with you. He prowled the kitchen like a caged animal, unable to get rid of the turmoil in his mind. Sadie was still fully engrossed in her artwork, unaware of the internal war raging between Cillian’s thoughts.

You were only twenty years old. He was forty-seven. The gap was huge and, even if it wasn't, it was wrong. He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts. Desire. Lust. All of the things he shouldn't be feeling.

Though his thoughts were a torrent of desire right now, he was also aware that there was something more to it overall, which made it even worse. He was drawn to you, not just physically, but emotionally. He admired your strength, your perseverance, the way your mind works, and the warmth of your personality.

You had this ability to captivate people, making their heart skip a beat without even trying.

Stretching your arms over your head, you let out a satisfied sigh and, by that point, you knew that he was watching. The quiet creak of the floorboards behind you confirmed it as he entered the living room while Sadie had run off to her room.

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder.

Cillian stood just outside the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, a contemplative expression etched across his face as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze intense, yet filled with something softer beneath it all.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked lightly, a teasing lilt in your voice, but his silence lingered longer than expected as he shifted his weight, caught off guard by your playful tone.

“Hard to ignore,” he replied, finally breaking the tension but keeping his tone neutral.You turned fully to face him, your playful smile evolving into something more serious, as if you understood the weight behind his words.

The moment hung between you like a breath held too long, your heart racing as Cillian’s gaze locked onto yours.

“What are you thinking?” you finally broke the silence, curiosity threading through your tone Cillian hesitated, searching for the right words as if they were shadows flitting just out of reach.

“Just wondering how things changed so quickly,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, arms still stretched, allowing the moment to linger. The air thickened with the unspoken, your heartbeat thrumming in tandem with his unsteady breaths.

“Changed how?” you tilted your head, keeping your voice steady even though your pulse raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“From being conent with my life, my marriage, to wanting more," he confessed, his gaze dropping for a brief moment before meeting yours again.

You swallowed hard , feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. A mixture of exhilaration and trepidation coursed through you.

“Something more?” you echoed slowly, allowing the words to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken tension as, suddenly, your mother and Cliora barged through the front door, interrupting the charged moment that lingered between you and Cillian.

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[pumpacti0n]

Reading the room

"A prevailing sentiment is that now is not the time to criticize Biden because SCOTUS & the Heritage Foundation have declared war on the left & Project 2025 - the White male Christian Evangelist mission - which was, in part, tested on a few African regimes in exchange for "aid" - is finally coming home to roost, so "vote blue no matter who!"

We should seemingly ignore every lie, every 2000 lb. bomb, every weapon shipment, and the literal piles of dead & obliterated bodies we've seen every day for the past nine months because if we criticize Biden or point out the Dem party's complicity in genocide, it will complicate what we must defend against in November.

Nevermind the illegal settlements and land grabs in the West Bank, the torture and abuse of Palestinian hostages, nevermind the under-counted death toll, the expanding war, the disdain for international law, the ceasefire ploys to continue the genocide, the lies direct from the president's mouth, nevermind the added funds that Biden and democratic mayors across the country are giving to militarize the police and build Cop Cities because November is just around the corner.

Now is not the time to point out what Dr. King, Assata Shakur, Malcolm X, Kwame Ture and so many of our revered elders have told us about "liberals", or to bring up Fannie Lou Hamer's "Nobody is free until everybody is free", or to point out that Biden is opposed to expanding the court, or that the Dem Party elite endorsed candidates to run against Black progressives that called for a ceasefire, or that actual climate defenders have abandoned Biden, or that he has "green-lit" more oil drilling than his right-wing predecessor...

The prevailing sentiment is that we should forgo any leverage we may have as voters, that this is no time to demand more from our handlers, we should let them kill or exploit as many Palestinians, Congolese, Haitians, South & Central Americans and Asians as they want because we got an election coming up in November and if we don't ignore what these same blue folks are doing in our names outside of the country and vote blue, the red ones are gonna take away our rights at home.

Now is not the time to educate voters on the Dem Party's center right policies or to point out how a coalition of progressive 3rd party candidates could carve a path for citizens to actually achieve the policies they dream of and break the corporate hegemony, or to point out how a mass social movement, already underway, could be mobilized to force the power out of the hands of those who hold it over our heads, pointing to what we should fear from the other side, while making zero concessions to our demands.

Now is not the time to make demands or correlations between the fight against the gender binary & the readily accepted political party binary. Now is not the time to educate, push, or think, now is the time to fear!

Now is not the time to point out that Black Americans comprise 25% of the world's prison population and that the policies that imprisoned them were drawn up by Biden and imposed by Clinton. Now is not the time to bring up the Clinton's involvement in Haiti, or Obama's war crimes in the Middle East. Now is not the time to bring up the Middle East or America's imperial agenda readily endorsed by both parties or to acknowledge it as part of white supremacist ideology.

Now is not the time to learn any lessons from the "mask-off" moment that would align anti-Zionism with antisemitism, or to question the US military's role as the world's largest fossil fuel consumer, or to question what game the Biden administration is playing with Israeli billionaires to facilitate greater mineral extraction in the Congo. Now is not the time to think globally or to connect the dots between what its imposed on the global majority for our so-called comforts at home.

Now is not the time to understand what LandBack means in relation to climate, colonialism, genocide or to make any amends, right any wrongs, redirect our agendas, beat down corporate or foreign lobbies...No, no, no! Now is the time to fear.

Now is not the time to hear how you sound, to point out how you got got, to remind you that you could actually transform society if you decided to hold a meeting tonight, to call your friends and family, to organize, create think tanks, food banks, community policing organizations* that force out the men in blue (the silent partners in your ..."no matter who" slogans).

Now is not the time to point out that the bloodbath you're avoiding is already overflowing with blood, that your self-centered focus is exactly what the bloodthirsty expect from you so that they can carry on with business as usual, or that you've allowed fear to diminish your concerns to the point of voting for business as usual."

[source]

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Most memorable items of clothing in bl series in 2023

In order of their airing/me watching them:

I'm thankful I've gotten into the habit of noting which shows I watch and when otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember. As it is, first on my list is Bed Friend, which kind of sets the tone for this post since it features the best and the worst outfit choices for Uea. The waffle robes and cat ears vs the fake sleeves shirt.

Next is a quick shout out to Por in My School President, since the show started in 2022 but did finish in 2023, and basically all of his outfits. The man is a style icon. But this stripy polo shirt takes the biscuit for me. I need to have it.

On to Moonlight Chicken and this one is a combined effort between Heart and Li Ming. @telomeke prompted me to write a little about it, but essentially the two shirts together are saying 'you're my other half'. Urthe / Tomato sauce.

The Gloves! Need I say more? (Alright, for those of you who don't know - how could you not?! - they're from Chains of Heart).

And now not strictly an item of clothing but an accessory, the most straight ankle bracelet you'll ever see in a thai series. Totally platonic, not gay AT ALL. In Midnight Museum.

In July the different Thai production companies took stock of three versions of the same stripy linin shirt – the cream long-sleeved, the brown short-sleeved, and the charcoal short-sleeved - and proceeded to clad every actor they could in one of them within a three and a half month period (six shows*, eight different characters). We had couple-shirts with both Kawi and Pisaeng and Mew and Top wearing them, and Namneua in Wedding Plan wore all three. (*Step by Step, Be My Favourite, Hidden Agenda, Wedding Plan, Love in Translation, and Only Friends).

Staying in July for a while, and speaking of weddings, Kawi rocked on up to Pearmai and Not's wedding in Be My Favourite in this brown houndstooth shirt and black pants outfit - an almost exact replica of Ray's outfit in the original pilot trailer for Only Friends. I waited with baited breath to see if Ray would still wear the outfit in the actual series...and he did! Not only that, I then realised Uea had already worn it in Bed Friend earlier in the year.

In a surprising turn of events, Be My Favourite – and Krist – turned out to actually be Quite Good. Perhaps distracted by Krist's puppy eyes, we weren't entirely ready for the first appearance of the Dudes shirt – itself a wonderful comment on the narrative since Kawi was figuring out his feelings for Pisaeng – but it was a delight to see it again on Nick in Only Friends, and offering a different narrative comment.

This next one may only be notable for me, but when I was doing my dedicated scan through of oh so many shows to collect items for the communal wardrobe, I noticed this sand and grey sweater amongst the many other items of shared clothing which appeared in The Warp Effect and then very briefly on Pisaeng in Be My Favourite. Not long after, the trailer for Last Twilight dropped and I spotted it again immediately. I've also since noticed it in a speed scan of The Shipper. Not only do I think it's a pretty neat sweater, but I loved the effect it gave in Last Twilight, which I wrote about at the end of this post.

This is getting long but I'm going to keep going (this might be the only 2023 wrap up I do so I'ma make it count).

If you've been following me for a while (or since the BBS days), you’ll know how rabid I go when I see a pair of the yellow-soled Mustard brand shoes in a show. The most recent being in Hidden Agenda worn by Zo…but they're not the ones on this list. Oh no, it's Joke's blue-soled shoes which made me sit up and scream this time...meaning even their shoes were colour-coded in this show. Oh how I wish I could buy a pair of each.

There were many fabulous outfits in Laws of Attraction (especially Charn's) but Tanthai's green rope shirt wins out for me. Green seemed to be used in the show to represent the lies and secrets Tanthai was forced to keep because of his father, and he was metaphorically bound and trapped in these lies and his life. Ah perfection!

I've mentioned a lot of brilliant items but there have also been many awful ones, and the one I can't seem to stop thinking about (or horrifying over) is the Droopy Tits shirt (or Nipple Protector, whichever way you want to call it) which first appeared in Dangerous Romance and then The Jungle just three days later. I'm surprised we haven't seen it again to be honest, but I imagine if we get more spoiled rich kids we probably will.

These next two aren't specific items but more of a shout out to the whole wardrobe design of the shows.

First, Only Friends, with Mew and Ray's transformation to Ray and Sand's (respective) wardrobe choices, as well as the inversion of colours to highlight differences in relationships, and the use of colour-groupings to separate characters (<- a post i have yet to write). I wish I could write more about it…but life is just too busy to give it the time it needs.

The second is, of course, Ai Di and Chen Yi in Kiseki: Dear to Me with how they always share a colour in their different outfits. @respectthepetty details this perfectly here, so I don't need to. I am however still feral about these two and can't wait to do a full re-watch of the show.

And lastly, much like Baseball Mom in Bad Buddy two years ago (and to be honest many of Pat's other shirts), Aof recently gifted us another absolutely ridiculous but brilliantly poignant t-shirt slogan in Mhok's Fart Proudly shirt in Last Twilight, which I went into detail about here. Just A+

Thanks for sticking with me through all that! Any others that stood out for you or that I missed?

[llflorence]

Can I convince you to fall for me?

Sequel to Did you just -- kiss me? (Human AU, RatedE)

Chapter 2

There are three things Aziraphale knows to be fact:

One. Anthony’s eyes, although teasing, are a snare from which Aziraphale cannot escape. Even as the man wrings out the drenched scarf, his gaze never leaves Aziraphale’s. It’s alluring and seductive, a warm invitation to a thrilling adventure. Aziraphale thinks he understands exactly how a snake feels as it’s charmed into hypnosis.

Two. Anthony’s mouth is — well, it’s incredible. Soft even when stretched thin by a fond smile, tongue sliding over perfect teeth. Aziraphale feels a hunger that has nothing to do with the lunch he skipped from nervousness.

And three. He is a lying liar who lies.

“Wow,” Anthony breathes as he hangs the scarf over one arm and offers the other to Aziraphale. “Aren’t you dashing?”

It’s not true. Aziraphale has never been dashing. Soft and round, sagging around the eyes and jowls as of late, the least he can be considered is not hideous.

Still.

“I was going to say the same thing about you,” Aziraphale responds, gripping Anthony’s arm and allowing himself to be reeled in close. It’s better than he remembers. Much, much better.

Anthony beams as he tugs Aziraphale toward the hotel entrance. “Oh, I think you’re beating me in the handsome department. There’s a light behind your eyes I could never compete with.”

It’s flattery, and Aziraphale knows it. But it warms his insides just the same.

A massive chandelier glitters overhead as they enter the lobby. People in suits and dresses mill about, voices loud and boisterous. A few catch Anthony’s arrival and wave, almost too welcoming. Something swoops in Aziraphale’s gut as he realizes he’s way out of his league.

“Friends of yours?” he asks as he absolutely notices how gazes shift from Anthony to himself. Eyes gravitate to Aziraphale’s arm held tight against the other man’s chest. It’s not exactly reassuring.

“Bah,” Anthony says, squeezing Aziraphale closer yet. “Clients and agents of the firm. Rich bastards with too much money, fake smiles and personal agendas. Not my type, to tell the truth.”

Aziraphale wholeheartedly agrees. Not his type at all.

“Let’s dump our jackets and see what kind of spread they’ve got prepared, shall we?”

Aziraphale’s stomach swoops and his butt cheeks clench at the thought of chewing and swallowing while Anthony watches. 

They stop at a room set aside for their things, and Aziraphale responds with his excuse. “I’m afraid I’m getting over a stomach bug, and —“

He doesn’t get to finish the rest, because Anthony has slipped out of his coat and removed his hat.

“Fuuck,” is what comes out of Aziraphale’s mouth next.

His date wears an emerald green three-piece that’s almost iridescent. The fabric shimmers as he moves, as he reaches for two coat hangers for their outdoor clothing. It's stunning in a way Aziraphale wouldn’t normally think. Anthony looks like a long, lean snake, all legs and smooth movements.

“What was that?” he chuckles as he takes Aziraphale’s coat. “Already? But we just got here!”

Aziraphale flushes hot at how subtle he’s not being. It’s difficult to know where to look when such a creature stands before him.

He settles on the eyes, which have shifted from teasing to hungry. Aziraphale feels to the base of his spine and back that he’s going to be this predator’s prey.

Anthony certainly appears to be sizing up Aziraphale as his next meal. That smug smile turns wicked. He purses his lips. Something mischievous glints in his eyes.

“How about we wait until after we have a spot of lunch, mm?”

All Aziraphale can say is “Mm-hm.”

The buffet is set up in a sort of meeting room, complete with skylights in the high ceiling and tall windows that look over a snowy garden. The tables are set with crystal glasses and centerpieces that look like fairy explosions. Food in silver serving containers line at least three full tables. And the smell is positively mouth-watering.

They don’t make it very far before extremely well-dressed, incredibly handsome people rush over to greet Anthony. He kisses their cheeks and smiles wide and convincing, and they respond by gushing over his suit, his hair, how good it is to see him back in town. Aziraphale is all but passed over as they talk, until Anthony reaches for his hand.

“This is my date, Aziraphale,” he says. Over and over and over again. It’s met with curious stares and polite smiles. Aziraphale focuses on how warm and dry Anthony’s hand is. In contrast, his is swampy and shaking.

Anthony is polite as hell. He stops to chat about his job, about the countries he’s visited, about how working with his brothers can sometimes be chaotic. A memory slides into Aziraphale’s mind as he listens; he thinks back to how Anthony complained about Hastur and Ligur trying to recruit him to their architecture firm. The man had the credentials, the schooling, the degree. He always said he’d rather work to build something than to tear it down.

By the time they make it to the buffet, Aziraphale’s mind is racing with self-deprecating thoughts. They are so very different in practically everything. He prefers being alone, reading or drawing, painting when he’s got enough time to do so, looking for work when he doesn’t. And Anthony is just –

Anthony seems to catch on that something is bothering him as they get in line to eat.

“Too much hot air for you, I’m guessing.”

Aziraphale forces a smile and nods. “I feel like I live in a bubble.”

His date moves in close, lowers his sleek head to speak directly in Aziraphale’s ear. He smells amazing, voice sultry and low. It sends tingling excitement through everything he has.

“How lucky am I that you invited me in?”

Aziraphale swallows thickly, mouth gone instantly dry. The words drip with double meaning. And just like that, he’s thinking about sex again.

He takes a plate and chooses a few things he knows he’ll never eat, then follows Anthony to a table near the exit. The man sets his plate down first and pulls out a chair for Aziraphale. Then he leans in and kisses, finally, the plump flesh of Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Can I get you something to drink, Darling?”

Darling? Darling! Aziraphale is going to fall apart, like a rag doll that’s lost all its stitching.

He’s still slightly woozy from a boozy breakfast. “I – I would like water, please.”

Anthony huffs a warm puff of air across Aziraphale’s face and straightens. He looks down the length of his nose with a smile that’s crazy intriguing.

“Good idea. Need to stay hydrated. Think I’ll join you.”

Aziraphale begins to sweat and the absolute menace of a man slinks away for the bar. He looks at the clock on the wall and does the math: six hours yet until midnight.

Six hours of wondering what exactly is inside this man’s trousers.

Anthony returns with two glasses. He scoots his chair as close as possible, just like he’d done in the coffee shop last week. He rotates slightly, slides an arm over the back of Aziraphale’s chair. It’s a cage Aziraphale has no desire to break free from.

Four other people join them at their table, and although Anthony knows them too, he doesn’t ever give them his full attention. He speaks to them, sure, but his gaze keeps returning to the side of Aziraphale’s face. 

The water disappears very quickly.

Anthony pushes his glass into Aziraphale’s hand and nods once. He tips his head to the side and rests that angular chin on his palm. His lids close halfway, staring at Aziraphale as he drinks the offered beverage too. There’s a lazy, calculating way about him that cannot be misconstrued.

Anthony is imagining Aziraphale and he somewhere else.

An hour and then some slide by. More people stop at their table to chat. Anthony introduces Aziraphale with so much pride in his tone that it becomes difficult to breathe. The feeling of ownership, the obvious desire, the way Anthony’s eyes keep focusing on Aziraphale’s lips –

“Would you excuse me?” he croaks, setting his unused napkin on the table. “Just going to stop at the bathroom.”

Anthony lifts his chin, leans against the chair back, and gives Aziraphale just enough space to push back his chair and squeeze none-too-gracefully out. His knee brushes against Anthony’s. Long fingers linger on his own as he steps away from the table. There’s something in the way he’s watching Aziraphale’s every move that is –

Aziraphale is dizzy as he exits the room, as he locates the men’s room, as he pushes the door open and finds a stall. He stands with his back to the toilet, rests his head on the unsanitary yet cool metal of the stall door. He thought he knew what he was getting into. Turns out, he wasn’t the least bit prepared. 

He relieves himself and washes his hands. He checks his breath, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply to clear his mind. And he’s not at all surprised when Anthony is there when he opens them.

The man is positively smoldering. There should be smoke rising from his shoulders, his eyes should be flames in their sockets. He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand, so gently, so strong. His question is something Aziraphale’s been wanting to hear all night.

“Can I kiss you?” He pauses, squeezing their hands together. “Aziraphale?”

Anthony’s voice shakes; it’s possible to hear how fast and hard the man’s heart beats in the words. He waits as if it requires everything he’s got to hold back. It takes Aziraphale’s breath away.

“Yes, of course.”

The kiss promises to be passionate, an attack by a pheromone-raged thing. Instead, Anthony moves slowly, approaches with caution. Like he expects Aziraphale to run away at his touch.

Aziraphale does not run away. He melts. The second those impossible lips meet his own, the nervous energy that courses through him immediately turns into liquid lust.

He moans, and Anthony’s arms slither around his waist. The kiss deepens and his embrace strengthens, and Aziraphale’s slack mouth is entered by the most talented of tongues. His eyes roll back in his head as his back hits a brick wall. And as their lips move against the others, as they try very hard to connect souls through an act of such passion, Aziraphale feels quite plainly that Anthony is trembling, too.

They break apart, heaving in great lungfuls of air. Strings of spittle from Anthony’s mouth to his stretch and break apart, leaving lips wet and shining. Aziraphale finds he wants very badly to remake the connection, to kiss Anthony until his lips are raw and bleeding. But the other man clears his throat and takes an unforgivable step back.

“Would it be OK with you if we left?”

Aziraphale blinks in shock. It must only be seven-thirty. He was under the impression that the torture — the events of the evening — would last quite a bit longer.

Anthony’s hands are hot on his back, tucked behind the bulge of his waist. He smiles, waiting patiently, almost — hopeful.

“But what about your friends?” Aziraphale asks. “I assume there is more planned for the evening.”

Anthony’s smile widens. He shrugs, chuckling. “They hand out sales award certificates and auction off a load of crap. It’s all just a reason to brag about the ridiculously selfish things they’ve accomplished this year.”

Aziraphale feels his own lips quirk into a smile. “Not your kind of thing,” he guesses.

“Not my kind of thing,” Anthony confirms.

They smile at each other for several moments. Aziraphale feels like he’s standing in a spotlight. Until he realizes he hasn’t answered yet.

“I would be open to leaving early.”

Anthony’s eyebrows ride into his scalp. “You’d be open to —“

He lifts a hand to his own face and scrubs in a circular motion. “You can’t just say stuff like that!”

Something ignites in Azriaphale’s belly and he realizes that Anthony is just as turned on.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks, just a little bit coyly. Perhaps he can get the man to lose his cool, too.

Anthony blows out a funny little breath and appears to recompose himself.

“I want to show you something.”

Aziraphale absolutely does not go there. At least, not out loud.

They collect coats and scarves and dress for the quickly dropping temperatures. Then Anthony escorts Aziraphale to the lobby. They run into nobody except the valet. This person takes Anthony’s ticket and scans it on a phone. Aziraphale watches with interest as his date tucks a twenty into the man’s palm.

The car that arrives on the curb is long and low and black. The driver has to climb out holding onto the top of the door to extract himself. Anthony tips this person, too, then takes Aziraphale’s hand to help him into the passenger side. He feels as if he’s lowering himself into a tank. It smells of expensive leather and disuse.

Anthony enters the cab most gracefully, snapping into his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to ensure Aziraphale has done the same. The man touches where the clip clicks in place, directly over Aziraphale’s hip. It’s an unnecessary action that he finds endearing.

They drive exactly two blocks before Anthony turns down an alley and parks outside a row of shops with darkened windows.

“Hold tight. I’ll help you out.”

Aziraphale knows without a doubt that he can haul his own ass out of the car, but it’s more interesting if he allows Anthony to do it.

It turns out to be well worth it. His date pulls him onto the street and allows the momentum to crush their bodies together. Aziraphale is smiling as he’s folded into a bear of a hug and kissed quite thoroughly.

The confidence Anthony exudes is contagious. Aziraphale feels his own bolstered at how hard it is for the man to pull away.

Pull away, he does, however. “OK, stay focused,” he laughs, just as much to himself as to Aziraphale. “Let’s go inside and get out of the cold.”

He produces a ring of keys and leads Aziraphale to the second shop on the string. The key gives him some trouble and he looks over one shoulder. He grins and pulls off one glove, then tries again. He’s successful this time.

The inside of the shop is empty, smelling of fresh paint and feeling fairly warm, considering no business is being done. Anthony closes the glass door behind them and waits. He crosses his arms and tilts his head, watching with a smile as Aziraphale steps further into the room.

“Tenant just closed out today,” he explains, and Aziraphale understands. “He’s moved on to bigger and better things.”

Aziraphale eyes the large picture windows on the street side. “Oh? And what kind of store was it?”

Anthony shrugs. “Aquaponics. You know, for growing –”

“Marijuana,” Aziraphale finishes. And when Anthony looks as if he’s misjudged, “I was young, once.”

“Still are,” Anthony snarks.

There is something suspicious about the way the man is suddenly at a loss for words. As if he’s waiting for Aziraphale to read his mind. 

From what Aziraphale remembers, and from what he’s experienced recently, it’s always been difficult to shut him up. His outgoing nature was something Aziraphale was drawn to, after all.

“What was it you wanted to show me, then?”

Anthony crosses and uncrosses his long legs and strides across the floor to stand next to Aziraphale. “How much are you paying for rent?”

It seems an odd question, one that Aziraphale isn’t prepared to answer just yet. Of course he’s talked with Anthony about his current living situation, how badly he wants to get out. But he’s been twisted around so many ways at this point, he doesn’t know what to think.

And he wishes they’d get back to kissing.

“There’s an apartment upstairs, newly refurbished. And I can guarantee the landlord will be loads better than the one you’re currently got.”

Just like that, Aziraphale puts two and two together. “You’re the landlord.”

The man grins beatifically. “I am. Own the whole block, actually.”

Anthony takes Aziraphale by the wrist, gaze falling right away to his mouth. “Just thought I’d put it out there. You know, in case it’s something you’re interested in. No pressure, of course. Think about it.”

Aziraphale is thinking about it now. It adds another dimension to this reunion of theirs. 

“OK,” he says, as if ending a conversation. He takes Aziraphale’s hand to his mouth and nuzzles between the knuckles. His lips are gentle as he kisses each one. It releases butterflies in Aziraphale’s stomach.

“Enough about my resume.” He’s teasing again, eyes half-closed. “Don’t want to scare you off by bragging about how good a provider I would be.”

Aziraphale shouldn’t be experiencing vertigo at the thought of procuring a rich, capable, doting partner. He’s not as shallow as that. He’s not.

“God, I want to kiss you again,” Anthony whispers, expression returning to the desire from before. “But I won’t just yet. Because I’m curious if you’re still interested in —“

Aziraphale surprises himself by interrupting, surging under the man’s chin and nosing at his jawline.

“I’ve been interested in you since I met you, seventeen years ago.” He feels Anthony breathe in quickly. Feels him shudder as Aziraphale kisses along the trail to his ear.

Aziraphale can be a bit of a bastard, too. “Take me to bed, you demon, you. Show me what’s underneath this bold mask you wear.”

Anthony growls, wraps both arms around Aziraphale’s waistline, and lifts him off the ground.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Read on AO3

[dosesofcommonsense]

[ravenclawwitchc]

Golden Apple

Notes:

On a sweltering Christmas Day in Sydney, Ran and Conan celebrate his 'eighteenth' birthday - a date they chose together when he became Conan.

Between stolen ice cream bites and sunset kisses, they navigate their unique relationship away from judging eyes.

The sun beat down relentlessly. "It’s so hot," Ran murmured, fanning her flushed cheeks with Conan’s baseball cap, which she’d snatched from his head. Sweat ran down her face and back, and his too. Their equally disheveled states caught each other’s eyes, drawing small, sheepish smiles to their heat-flushed faces.

Conan’s fingers brushed her cheek, hesitantly, as if testing the waters. His gaze, obscured by the glint of his glasses, was hazy and charged, enough to make her chest tighten. Was he going to kiss her? Her eyes started to flutter closed—

And then he grinned, a boyish blush lighting his face, before darting across the street to the ice cream truck.

“Such a kid,” Ran muttered under her breath, but the smile tugging at her lips refused to be hidden.

“That’s what dating someone younger is like,” Sonoko said once, sprawling across Ran’s bed, her freshly painted red nails gleaming in the sunlight. She waved a hand lazily, poking an invisible hole in the air before mockingly poking Ran in the forehead. “But judging by his face, he’s definitely your type. Weird taste, though.”

Ran was silently thankful Sonoko hadn’t tried to moralize her relationship with a seventeen-year-old. Almost eighteen, she reminded herself, marking the days with quiet determination.

Youth had its perks. She bit the tip of her ice cream cone, letting the melting mix of cream and chocolate coat her tongue. Beneath, a green scoop peeked out—mint? Conan didn’t hesitate to lean in and take a lick, casual as ever, like sharing cherry tomatoes in the kitchen. Red juice had once dripped from his hands, but his mouth had been up to much nimbler tasks than that since.

Today was not his real birthday, they knew it.

The drug didn’t work in neat numbers, but he’d seen Shinichi’s death certificate. When the time came to register Conan Edogawa’s identity, he’d chosen to share the date with her. It was the first time he’d known such pain and, in that pain, discovered the joy of forgiveness and rebirth.

December 25th. The birth of Christ. The day he and Ran decided to live on in this form, ending the lies and welcoming new love. How fitting.

He hadn’t expected her to hold the date with such devotion, almost like a believer.

How much difference was there between seventeen and eighteen? Especially when the soul inhabiting his youthful body was older than hers. He hadn’t been thrilled when she dragged him to the beach to celebrate. Eighteen felt monumental, a milestone worth fireworks. Not for him, but if her restraint during their more intimate moments was because of it... Well, he had his own ideas about celebrating.

The perfect moment would be under the covers, wrapped in darkness, her breath trembling as midnight crept closer. A kiss, warm and tender, on her skin—a tiny trespass, a crime in miniature.

But six kilometers of hiking from one beach to another? That hadn’t been on his agenda.

His gaze swept over the distant horizon, tracing the sea’s jelly-like shimmer before settling softly on her face. How could someone at twenty-seven still look so innocent, so portable? Or was she naïve enough to think this would exhaust an eighteen-year-old’s boundless energy and thoughts?

The ice cream on her tongue, the sweat trembling on her lashes, the little sighs she made—Ah, apple. He couldn’t resist pulling out his camera.

“What are you doing?” she laughed, shielding her face.

“Memories, of course.”

She misunderstood, thinking he was admiring the scenery. She invited a passerby to take a photo of them. Leaning against the railing, hot as a branding iron, he felt the green branches tickling his back. It was itchy, laughably so, prompting him to share the feeling urgently with her. If it hurts, we’ll hurt together, she’d once said.

So this time, it was a kiss.

Not rushed, not forceful—gentle and lingering, lips brushing, tasting salt. Worried she’d get shy, he looped a hand around her neck, a touch possessive but mostly just wanting to hold her close. Here, in the southern hemisphere, far from judgmental eyes and the fame of Beika, they could walk hand in hand, carefree in the warm afternoons. Logic, like the cases that used to bind him, had evaporated.

“Merry Christmas,” someone said, returning the camera. Ran managed a flustered but polite response, cheeks burning.

She hadn’t noticed the passerby had switched to video mode after snapping a few shots. The shimmering sea framed two figures as radiant as the sun, caught in profile.

Before she could feel embarrassed or angry, he tugged her along. “The view from the hill should be great. Let’s go there next!”

The bus back to the city required two transfers. The streets bustled with people of all colors—Asian, white, Black—and they blended in naturally, two drops of water in a sea.

“Hold my hand,” she reminded him. “It’s crowded today.”

“Holiday season,” he replied with a knowing smile.

The bus was decked out in Christmas ribbons, the windows reflecting the twinkle of holiday lights. The warmth of strangers’ laughter filled the air, popping like bubbles. For once, they were invisible in a foreign land.

When they were noticed, it was only to receive a cheery “Merry Christmas” from the driver. Ran, never stingy with her own cheer, returned the greeting, her voice sweet and lilting with a hint of her Japanese accent. It made Conan hold her tighter. A man in love sees rivals everywhere.

“Man,” he thought smugly, “not boy. Your man. Introduce me properly next time, won’t you?”

As the bus passed brightly lit shops, the largest Christmas tree in the southern hemisphere came into view, standing tall in the square. Warm December winds stirred its branches, dancing with twinkling lights. Christmas trees and summer breezes didn’t quite fit, but this place—this moment—was theirs: warm winds, a sun reluctant to set, and the heat radiating from a simple touch.

The streets, strung with lights and stars:

“Not as fancy as London’s angels, but still beautiful, right?”

“Yes, yes. Ran-neechan’s always right.”

If they had gone to London, they could’ve huddled closer in the cold. But here, in her sundress, her laughter bright as the sun, her hair tousled by the wind—she was the picture he’d treasure forever. Southbound breezes would forever remind him of this unique traveling companion. Should he set this photo as his phone wallpaper? Frame it alongside the amusement park memories?

There was still time for a sunset picnic on the grass, watching it sink over the bridge and opera house. Then, dinner before the evening light show. Ran flipped through her notebook, marked with smiley faces and cute doodles.

After 10 PM, she’d simply drawn a heart.

“What does that mean, Ran-neechan?” he teased with wide, innocent eyes, playing dumb in that way only he could.

The "neechan", once scolded into retirement on a Christmas night long ago, had taken on new meaning. It was a cue now, for her to hush his mischief, his restless desires, with her lips—or something else entirely.

But not here, not now. “Too many people!” she scolded, trying to stay firm.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from stealing another kiss. Christmas magic excused everything—even fake birthdays and forbidden romances.

She tasted like apples—sweet, crisp, and eternal. His kiss lingered, promising more moments, more tomorrows.

“Why insist on celebrating Christmas in Sydney this year, Ran?”

“Take a guess.” She grinned mischievously as they boarded the plane, her tone as carefree as if she hadn’t meticulously planned every detail of their trip. Then she left him hanging, retreating behind her sleep mask to fend off his signature puppy-dog eyes—a trick that usually never failed him.

Was now a good time to ask? He traced her lower lip with his own, his tongue brushing lightly against her teeth as though the question had slipped out by accident. Yet the butterflies in his chest betrayed his careful nonchalance.

Her gaze softened, bright and tender, settling on his nose, then his lips. When she finally answered, her voice was a syrupy whisper, melting between their shared breaths:

“Because… the temperature here in December feels just like Tokyo in May. Happy birthday, Merry Christmas, Shinichi.”

[respectthepetty]

Addicted Heroin (Th) Cut Scenes and Colors - Episode 5

I'm reporting on the missing scenes from YouTube's version of Addicted Heroin [episode: one, two, three, four], so here I am with episode five!

First cut scene:

After Blue Boy Hero realizes that he tied Green Guy Pop up with color-coded green rope for nothing because Pop was planning to apologize to him before he kidnapped him and forced a kiss on him, Hero goes to Pop's house to eat dinner and stay the night; however, as usual, they argue.

Pop divides the food up but gives his father more and Hero the least. Hero gets upsets and says Pop can't divide properly, and Pop tells him he divided right (implying Hero was meant to get less). Hero tells PopPY he is being childish. Pop is upset that Hero is calling him Poppy, so Hero responds that since they are brothers now and Hero is the oldest brother, it's fine.

But that's lies! They bring out their IDs and learn Pop is older by two days, so even though Hero is taller (which is something he points out), Pop is the Phi in this house! So as the older brother, he kicks Hero out of the room, and sleeps on Hero's side of their color-coded beds.

Second cut scene:

I'm going off vibes here, but the next day after kicking Hero out of the room, Pop seems to be thinking about the kidnap kiss at school when Hero walks up. Hero notices and asks Pop to look at his face for . . . something on it(?), but it really is just to get Pop to look at his lips.

Pop gets upsets and leaves.

Third cut scene:

Hero doesn't just buy Pop a make-up New Year's gift; he buys the entire family gifts. Grandma gets a neck massager, the dad gets Nike shoes, auntie gets a gift, and the future little brother gets a painting/drawing set. Everyone resists, but eventually gives in, yet Poppy is still displeased, so the green color-coded ruler comes in handy.

Fourth cut scene:

After the teacher announces the students have to work as pairs for the next assignment, Pink Person Only immediately approaches Pop stating they will be partners, which upsets Hero, and Hero and Pop start to argue. Both keep suggesting Yellow Yal Tiger as the other's partner and both keep rejecting him WHILE HE SITS RIGHT THERE! Finally, Pop says HE will be Tiger's partner, and Hero and Only can be partners.

The two girls who like Hero and Only immediately step up to offer themselves as volunteers for a partnership, but the boys quickly reject them because this is a BL and they understand the queer agenda.

Pop is worried they might not have a good idea but learns that Tiger is more than prepared for their assignment as Tiger shows him all the research he has already done on his product for nose strips that ~help people with runny noses~

Hero and Only lurk from a small distance trying to figure out how to remedy this unsatisfactory situation. Hero discloses that he is designing a robot, to which Only questions why he needs Pop then when he already has a plan in mind. Hero does what he does best and threatens Only to go partner up with Tiger or he will squash him like a disposable cup.

So my color-coded OTP sails the shipping seas another day.

Because it's clear that Tiger designed the product with needs-eighty-million-tisssues-to-get-through-the-day Only.

Fifth cut scene:

After the incident in the classroom between Only and Tiger when Only became super defensive out of nowhere then invited Tiger over to his house all in one breath (even though we know Only was actually trying to hide a picture he drew of Tiger), he threatens to haunt his "kitty cat" until he accepts the invite like the girl in Shudder who sits on people's shoulders.

Tiger leaves, but while washing his hands, Tiger's color-coded phones alerts him that Only is sending a text to hound him some more about coming over. Tiger ignores it, and BAM!

He sees Only sitting on his shoulders in the mirror being super creepy. Then, BAM!

He sees Only everywhere stalking him and haunting him around campus.

However, it's clear from Only's reaction after being questioned by Hero and Pop while getting his PINK MILK that not all of this is in Tiger's mind.

Sixth cut scene:

These scenes were in the edited version, but the colors were coloring, and I love that Pop was really going to be a BL boy who lets his love interest soak in the rain without any effs to give.

But the next day, while they are talking about the auntie and the dad flirting, the scene is longer and explains the auntie's situation. Her ex cheated on her and picked the other woman over her. She wanted their kid, so she kept him, yet the ex continues to come around asking for money and others things but never helps out.

Pop mentions how kind and motherly she has been to him, so Hero asks if she was married to someone else, would the ex finally get the hint that she has moved on and quit brothering her.

Hence why our Green Guy tells his dad to step up and be the guy the auntie needs in her life after the ex tries to rob his own son!

So it does make sense that Pop is still sad his dad is married even though it was his idea only because he just wanted to help out the auntie.

The boys end the episode in red, so I'm unsure if we are entering into the danger zone, the passion era, or both.

But either way, MY SHIP IS SAILING!

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Romances to Love All Year Round

🦇 Good morning, my beloved bookish bats. We're halfway through pride month, but there are still so many amazing queer books to read! To celebrate that love is love mentality, here are 78 queer romance novels you can add to your tbr! Don't forget to #readqueerallyear, and that none of us are free until all of us are free. 💜

❤️ Delilah Green Doesn’t Care - Ashley Herring Blake 🧡 Skye Falling - Mia McKenzie 💛 The Breakup Lists - Adib Khorram 💚 Prince of the Palisades - Julian Winters 💙 Solomon’s Crown - Natasha Siegel 💜 The Borrow a Boyfriend Club - Page Powars

❤️ Full Shift - Jennifer Dugan 🧡 A Shore Thing - Joanna Lowell 💛 Showmance - Chad Beguelin 💚 Exes & Foes - Amanda Woody 💙 Full Disclosure - Camryn Garrett 💜 When You Were Everything - Ashley Woodfolk

❤️ Playing the Palace - Paul Rudnick 🧡 I’m So (Not) Over You - Kosoko Jackson 💛 When Katie Met Cassidy - Camille Perri 💚 Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat 💙 The Lovers - Rebekah Faubion 💜 That Summer Feeling - Bridget Morrissey

❤️ Wild Things - Laura Kay 🧡 Experienced - Kate Young 💛 Lose You to Find Me - Erik J. Brown 💚 The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School - Sonora Reyes 💙 Nate Plus One - Kevin van Whye 💜 Countries of Origin - Javier Fuentes

❤️ The Passing Playbook - Isaac Fitzsimons 🧡 But How Are You, Really - Ella Dawson 💛 Looking for a Sign - Susie Dumond 💚 The Prospects - KT Hoffman 💙 Last Night at the Telegraph Club - Malinda Lo 💜 Malice - Heather Walter

❤️ You Should See Me in a Crown - Leah Johnson 🧡 Let’s Talk about Love - Claire Kann 💛 Bonds of Brass - Emily Skrutskie 💚 Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places - Claire Kann 💙 The Stars and the Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus 💜 In Charm’s Way - Lana Harper

❤️ Everything Leads to You - Nina LaCour 🧡 Marriage of a Thousand Lies - SJ Sindu 💛 I Think I Love You - Auriane Desombre 💚 Lavash at First Sight - Taleen Voskuni 💙 The Bump - Sidney Karger 💜 The Disenchantment - Celia Bell

❤️ The Dos and Donuts of Love - Adiba Jaigirdar 🧡 Riley Weaver Needs A Date To The Gaybutante Ball - Jason June 💛 Epically Earnest - Molly Horan 💚 Out of the Blue - Jason June 💙 Flip the Script - Lyla Lee 💜 Imogen, Obviously - Becky Albertalli

❤️ Café Con Lychee - Emery Lee 🧡 A Little Bit Country - Brian D. Kennedy 💛 Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen 💚 The Key to You and Me - Jaye Robin Brown 💙 What If It’s Us - Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera 💜 The Falling in Love Montage - Ciara Smyth

❤️ The Love Curse of Melody McIntyre - Robin Talley 🧡 Meet Cute Diary - Emery Lee 💛 Love & Other Natural Disasters - Misa Sugiura 💚 Date Me, Bryson Keller - Kevin van Whye 💙 Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster - Andrea Mosqueda 💜 Pumpkin by Julie Murphy

❤️ She Gets the Girl by Rachel Lippincott - Alyson Derrick 🧡 Home Field Advantage - Dahlia Adler 💛 The (Un)Popular Vote - Jasper Sanchez 💚 Melt With You - Jennifer Dugan 💙 Cool for the Summer by Dahlia Adler 💜 Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating - Adiba Jaigirdar

❤️ I Kissed Shara Wheeler - Casey McQuiston 🧡 Jay’s Gay Agenda - Jason June 💛 Triple Sec - TJ Alexander 💚 Finally Fitz - Marisa Kanter 💙 I’ll Be the One - Lyla Lee 💜 This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story - Kacen Callender

❤️ May the Best Man Win - ZR Ellor 🧡 One Last Stop - Casey McQuiston 💛 Late Bloomer - Mazey Eddings 💚 The Fiancee Farce - Alexandria Bellefleur 💙 Stars Collide - Rachel Lacey 💜 Truly, Madly, Deeply - Alexandria Bellefleur

[rise-my-angel]

re: the bastardphobia post.

It’s such a stupid discourse too, when Jace, Luke and Joff are (rightfully imo) pointed out as bastards it’s gReEn PrOpOgAnDa and bAsTaRdPhObIa and yet their rebuttal is always half a billion pathetic arguments to try and claim they’re not. Most of them are also nasty to Addam and Nettles for betraying tRuE KwEEn Rhaenyra and being bastards. I think it’s fairly easy to say that the bastardphobia allegations are coming from inside the house.

Their arguments are entirely contradicting. It's wrong for Alicent's side of the family to use them being bastards to bolster their claims as it is wrong for fans to agree. But they also consistently demand that any argument that they are bastards is wrong.

Either some argument that because of some grandparent's hair colour being dark, that means its reasonable for the boys to turn out with dark hair. When that is not how that works at all. With hair colour specifically, it's mostly luck and chance that Alicent's kids all had silver hair. But if Jace, Luke, and Joffery are all Leanors children, then they would have had silver hair too. The in universe characters don't know this kind of science though, which is why the kingdoms all thought it was entierly plausable that all of Roberts children inherited Cersei's blonde hair, when in reality in most cases, natural blondes are only born to 2 blonde parents because its a recessive gene. On first glance no one notices, until someone points out that the children don't look at all like one parent then suddenly everyone else realizes it too.

Also, it's possible one child may be born that inherits an older ancestors dark hair, but not all three of them. That is literally the same unlikely scenario as Robert's children all being blondes when literally every single other Baratheon has dark hair. (Literally Gendry describes his mother as having yellow hair). If those boys were Laenor, they would look even the slightest bit similar to him, but they do not.

The second argument is Laenor accepted them as his own, which means they are not bastards. Which....literally no. First of all, he does express an exhaustion of playing this lie for Rhaenyras sake for so many years. Secondly, that is not how legitimization works.

Bastards getting true names is a process. One which needs to go through public, legal documentation through the King in which actual written declarations are provided. Rhaenyra would have had to admit to Viserys they are bastards and demand legitimization, and then also beg for him to keep that a secret to play the lie off as if they always were. If Catelyn had been a mother to Jon, that doesn't automatically mean he is a legitimate Stark. Ned still would've had to go to Robert and request it.

But the thing is, both of these arguments contradict their point. They would argue instead that Rhaenyra should have pushed for their rights as bastards regardless. To force change to make the system less oppressive to them in general, but she didn't. She lies to suit her own image and threatened her mutilated brother with torture for saying what around the court, is more known as common gossip.

They don't care about bastards outside of Targaryeans. These are the same people insisting that Jon Snow recognize his Targaryean heritage and align himself completely as one. They do not care about him as Jon Snow, they want him to be a Targaryean. They belittle characters like Nettles because her status as as a bastard cannot be looped around to making her a true Targaryean.

They only care about the discussion of bastards enough to morally grandstand about how people discuss them within the Targaryean family. Other bastards that cannot be a tool for their pro Targaryean agenda, do not matter. They do not actually care about it.

But because we use the in universe logic to discuss their in universe legal rights and lack of privlages as argument for a complicated legal debacle, they say its bastard phobic. We don't not support them for being bastards, we are explaining why IN UNIVERSE they would not have the rights to the things Rhaenyra is pushing for.

In universe characters too are not in the wrong for using their status as bastards as why they support the other side. They are well within their right to support the strict legal system which the Targaryeans themselves implimented.

We the audience know theres nothing wrong with being a bastard, but we are not supposed to use that to judge the story with our own moral compass. The point of a character like Jon Snow isn't to condemn others for their views of him as a Snow, its so we understand that bastards are normal people who should not be villanized on sight. It's meant to tell us that we shouldn't judge bastards the way other characters will but it is not to condemn the system people have grown up and and thus think are normal.

But these people make excuses to say why they aren't bastards while also getting mad at us for calling them bastards. You cannot have your cake and eat it too. These people don't care about bastards outside of the discussion of the Targaryean family.

It's both a total hypocrisy and a total lack of nuance.

[mercillery]

DOMINANCE AND GRACE

This was initially just going to be hcs about Dante with a reader that’s like Shinobu but I ended up going so off track I’m so sorry to my friend who requested this 🥲🙏💜 I hope you still enjoy it <3

WARNINGS: FEMALE READER + HEADCANONS BUT ALSO A SMALL DRABBLE (I THINK ITS CALLED A DRABBLE..?)

SUMMARY: Dante Zogratis with a reader he just met that’s similar to Shinobu Kocho + fighting

Dante's first encounter with news of you likely came from a report filed by one of his Dark Disciples. Your reputation as a formidable adversary, despite your stature, captured his immediate interest. It's not often he hears of someone so petite causing such a significant disruption to both his siblings and his own plans. Your presence piqued his curiosity and left him both intrigued and entertained. So right off the bat, he absolutely has to meet you and see if you really live up to what his Dark Disciples say about you.

Unfortunately, despite his curiosity, Dante's packed schedule and ambitious projects kept him from crossing paths with you. While he's not one to shy away from a confrontation when necessary, his demanding agenda often took precedence. So it wasn't until much later that he finally had the opportunity to encounter you in person.

"Ah, you must be Y/N," the handsome man with piercing green eyes remarked, his tone laced with arrogance and authority as he looked down at you.

You've been a constant thorn in the side of the Zogratis siblings, disrupting their plans time and again, yet you’ve never encountered one of them face-to-face. You knew for a fact that they harbored a deep-seated desire to end your interference. With a furrowed brow, you absorbed the gravity of the moment, fully aware of the reputation that preceded the Zogratis siblings, especially Dante. His gaze traveled up and down your form, almost as if he were appraising you. Your furrowed brows morphed into a single raised eyebrow, a silent question echoing in your mind: What the hell was he doing?

"Excuse me," you interjected with a hint of disdain. "I suggest you keep your focus on the battle unfolding before us," you added pointedly, maintaining the raised eyebrow as a testament to your perplexity.

"What?" he chuckled, amusement dancing in his handsome green eyes. "Is admiring beauty off-limits?" His gaze lingered on your figure once more before extending a hand, as if presenting an offer. "Why don't you be my woman?" His audacious proposal nearly caused you to choke, leaving you bewildered by Dante's unexpected proposition. What was this man playing at?

"Absolutely not," you assert firmly, regaining your composure. In mere moments of being in his presence, you've resolved to swiftly put an end to this situation before Dante can wreak havoc on the lives of innocents. You draw your nichirin blade, poised for action. A smirk graces Dante's lips at the sight, amused by the prospect of facing off against such a diminutive opponent. "I suppose I can indulge you for a while," he remarks casually, making no move to draw a weapon of his own. Yet you sense a latent power emanating from him, something beyond the realm of conventional weaponry. Nevertheless, you remain steadfast and prepared for whatever lies ahead.

And, well, the entirety of the battle consists of you both fighting and flirting—with the flirting obviously coming from Dante and not you. He just can’t resist flirting with a beautiful and strong woman like you. So the whole time throughout the battle, not only are you annoyed, but his flirtatious remarks toward you only drive your determination to finish him even more.

After a few more minutes of intense combat, Dante comes to a realization: you're far from weak. Despite your petite stature, you display remarkable agility, intelligence, and composure, and you even land blows on him here and there. As the battle unfolds, he finds himself torn between finding you attractive and being annoyed by your persistence. Yet, there's an undeniable fascination with witnessing how adeptly you handle yourself and how your every move is calculated and strategic. The conflict within him only adds to the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he grapples with the mix of irritation and admiration sparked by your formidable yet alluring presence.

Your attempt to poison Dante with the venom from your nichirin blade proved futile, thwarted by his Body Magic. Frustratingly, despite your best efforts, the poison had no discernible effect on him. With your agility being your only saving grace thus far, the realization dawned on you that your situation had become increasingly dire. As Dante brandished a katana, poised to strike, the gravity of the impending danger set in. Yet, your determination remained to defeat the undefeatable man.

In the end, victory belonged to Dante, leaving frustration coursing through your veins at both the outcome and his insufferable remarks in the aftermath of your defeat. The sting of failure was compounded by his taunts.

As Dante closed in on your defeated and bloodied figure, now kneeling on the ground, a chuckle escaped his lips at the sight before him. The composed facade you once maintained had crumbled, replaced by a visage of anger, frustration, and exhaustion. Despite the agony coursing through your body, he couldn't deny the captivating allure of your vulnerability in this moment of defeat. You joined the ranks of those who had fallen before him, yet Dante found himself intensely intrigued by your resilience.

"Strong, smart, fierce, and..." Dante's voice trailed off as he glanced down at your defeated form, his words hanging in the air. "Small," he concluded, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. Despite the urge to retort with something snarky, you held your tongue, acutely aware that any further provocation might seal your fate.

Suddenly, Dante extends his hand once more, echoing his earlier proposition. "Be my woman," he repeats, a charming smile gracing his features. Despite your intention to remain silent to avoid further provocation, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to respond. "Go to hell," you retort fiercely. Dante's smile completely vanishes from his face, replaced by a steely expression. "What did you say?" he demands, his tone tinged with warning.

"I said," you emphasize, your voice dripping with defiance, "go. to. hell." Dante's laughter rings out, though it carries more of a mocking tone than genuine amusement. Abruptly, his laughter subsides, replaced by a dead-serious expression. "You see," he continues, a sinister edge creeping into his smile. "I wasn't asking you." With a swift motion, he seizes you by the collar of your shirt, drawing you closer to his face with a menacing grip. He looked like he was thinking about something—thinking about a decision.

He clicks his tongue.

"Ah, I know," Dante says, his expression and tone now calm. "Instead of sending you to hell, how about I take you there myself?" His smirk widens, a sinister glint in his eyes as he trails a finger along your jawline, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. The dark intent behind his words hangs heavy in the air.