Deception Trilogy Quotes

Scars mean you are alive and strong enough to survive.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll worship each of your scars until you’re able to face them, Lenochka.

I wish I was not who I am. I wish I had met you in different circumstances, in a place far away from here, where there was no magic, politics and deception. Somewhere where things could be different between us. I wish I was someone else. But I am what and who I am, and all the wishes in the world will not change that.

You asked when I’d be done. The answer is never. I’ll never be done with you, Lenochka.

There is as much deception in noise as there is in silence

I sweep her hair away from her face and brush my lips over her forehead. “I’ll find you again.” People say death is the end. For me, it’s only the beginning.

...I told you how different my love is, how dark it can get, but I do love you, more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. I don't only need you; I also genuinely cannot live without you and the light you bring to my darkness. I know you deserve better, but I'm unable to let you go, so I'll try my best to be worthy of you, Lenochka.

I’ve never done this with anyone before you, Lenochka.

I wish I’d never met you.” My lips brush against her forehead. “I’ll meet you over and over again if I have to.

Since when was truth marked as treason? - DECEIVED

What do I smell like?” “Like roses and fucking addictions.” “How do you know what addictions smell like?” “I didn’t. Until you.

Is it worth it?” “Is what worth it?” “Losing everything for her?” A small smile grazes my lips. “Absolutely.

Lia isn’t the other woman. She’s the woman.

A hero is the last thing I want to be. Selflessness has never been my thing.” “So you would rather be the villain?” “A villain is the hero in his own story, so why not?

She’s my wife. My son’s mother. Fucking mine. And I’ll go through hell itself if it means keeping her there.

She’s not alone. She has me.” “You work all the time. Besides, you’re not talkative enough for her taste.” “I can be talkative.” “No offense, sir, but no, you can’t. Let Yan fill that gap. She needs a friend and you’re well aware of it.

We all want to be told stories, and we listen to them in the same way we did when we were young. We imagine the real story inside the words, and to do this we substitute ourselves for the person in the story, pretending that we can understand him because we understand ourselves. This is a deception. We exist for ourselves, perhaps, and at times we even have a glimmer of who we are, but in the end we can never be sure, and as our lives go on, we become more and more opaque to ourselves, more and more aware of our own incoherence. No one can cross the boundary into another—for the simple reason that no one can gain access to himself.

The secret lies of manipulative folks, however hidden and cunningly twisted shall eventually come out. Never trust manipulative politically motivated, sly liars while they pretend to be "true friends" with noble and just cause. ~ Angelica Hopes, K.H. Trilogy

Remember, I’m doing the talking. You’ll manage to insult someone and get us killed.

Because I’m going to fuck you until you scream, my deadly thorn.” And with that, he picks me up and carries me in his arms toward the bedroom.

Adrian’s guard is down slightly when he’s inside me or after he’s fucked me, and I’m not above using that to my advantage.

Do you love cuddling, Jer?” “What does cuddling mean?” Oh, the poor baby has such horrible parents. I pull him to me underneath the blanket and hold him close, stroking his hair away from his eyes. “This is called cuddling.” He grins. “Are you gonna cuddling with me every day?

My head said one thing, while my heart said another. Angel vs. Devil time! Yes, that’s right. Grace’s angel says to laugh back and continue. Grace’s devil says to throw caution to the wind and be bold. Bold never comes!-Grace from Deception (Fey Court Trilogy) Book 1

You might have forgotten a few things, so let me remind you, Lia. You are my wife. Fucking mine. That means you don’t protect another man in my damn presence. No matter how much you try to shield him, I’ll find the bastard and kill him. Then, I’ll keep my promise and fuck you in his blood.

People say death is the end.For me, it’s only the beginning.

From now on, you’re Lia Volkov. Wife of Adrian Volkov.

Then don’t say you’ll leave me again. You’re my last stop and I plan to stay, not move on.” “You’re my last stop, too.

Pathological liars call a situation a "misunderstanding" most especially when their deceptions return to them as karmic whirlwind. ~ Angelica Hopes, The F. Trilogy

A small sigh leaves her lips and I want to reach out to my guards, Kolya and Yan, and erase that sound from their heads. I don’t like that they can hear or see her like this.

Intelligence is built on deception. Trust nothing. Not even the mirror.

Be gifted with an honest, ethically wise, keen observation as you detect a pair of deceptive eyes. ~ Angelica Hopes, The F. Trilogy

Cyber trolls' deceptive manipulative, political power play, duplicity and devious hypocrisy cannot equate to true friendship.~ Angelica Hopes, K.H. Trilogy

My mom used to say that the best way to disarm someone is to tell them what they least expect.

I’ve always been meant to ruin this woman, but I also get to own her. To confiscate her. To have her all for myself.

One day, she'll realize that the world we live in doesn't matter. We're the only one who do.

I wish it could've been different between the two of us. I wish I were the man you deserve instead of the villain you're got.

Scars mean you are alive and strong enough to survive.

Understand this, Lia. I might not hurt you, might not fucking kill you, even though you deserve it, but I’ll find that bastard, and when I do, I’ll fuck you in front of him before I slice his fucking throat. Then I’ll fuck you again in the pool of his blood.” I release her neck and she sucks in deep breaths, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Protect him while you can.

Ab figured that the chance of his recognising it would be about the same as a burglar recognising a dollar watch that happened to get caught for a minute on his vest button five years ago

Why croak with dishonesty when your target subject discovers, listens, and witnesses beyond the veil of your duplicity? Your proliferation of misinformation, disinformation, gossips, polemics, planted intrigues, lies, calumny, misjudgement, and all other forms of smear campaign, may deceive gullible hearts but you cannot destroy the unparalleled truth which is in the hands of your target victim. ~ Angelica Hopes, K.H. Trilogy

Security means the state of being free from danger or threat. Danger means the possibility of suffering harm or injury. The possibility of something unwelcome or unpleasant happening. There are times I have to stress as I express the correct, precise, real and honest definitions; so that the deceptive, politically motivated folks who destructively branded me as “threat to danger” would realise their double denial duplicity, dishonesty and hypocrisy. Have you at least questioned the personal motives and faulty malicious and intentional misjudgment or at least be honestly curious to discern the motive of a cunning person who warns you against another as a danger, a threat or a risk to life or security? Did the political harridan mean political threat to her political coalition or a danger to reveal the harridan's creative deception matched with her political ambitious power links? ~ Angelica Hopes, K.H. Trilogy

You don’t seem to grasp the situation, so let me explain it to you for the last time, Lia. You’re my wife, my property, my thing. That means you walk the line I trace and make the decisions I allow. If I say you leave your will at the door, you do. If I say you will walk blindly into a well, you will. In my house, my word is law and my decisions are final. If you feel the need to defy me, by all means, do. I’ll enjoy every second of whipping you into submission.

Little of that makes for love, but it does pump desire. The woman who churned a man's blood as she leaned all alone on a fence by a country road might not expect even to catch his eye in the City. But if she is clipping quickly down the big-city street in heels, swinging her purse, or sitting on a stoop with a cool beer in her hand, dangling her shoe from the toes of her foot, the man, reacting to her posture, to soft skin on stone, the weight of the building stressing the delicate, dangling shoe, is captured. And he'd think it was the woman he wanted, and not some combination of curved stone, and a swinging, high-heeled shoe moving in and out of sunlight. He would know right away the deception, the trick of shapes and light and movement, but it wouldn't matter at all because the deception was part of it too. Anyway, he could feel his lungs going in and out. There is no air in the City but there is breath, and every morning it races through him like laughing gas brightening his eyes, his talk, and his expectations. In no time at all he forgets little pebbly creeks and apple trees so old they lay their branches along the ground and you have to reach down or stoop to pick the fruit. He forgets a sun that used to slide up like the yolk of a good country egg, thick and red-orange at the bottom of the sky, and he doesn't miss it, doesn't look up to see what happened to it or to stars made irrelevant by the light of thrilling, wasteful street lamps. That kind of fascination, permanent and out of control, seizes children, young girls, men of every description, mothers, brides, and barfly women, and if they have their way and get to the City, they feel more like themselves, more like the people they always believed they were.

The gesture of possessiveness, of staking his claim, doesn’t escape me, but I don’t dwell on it much either, because he’s not doing it to me. He’s doing it to his wife. As long as I don’t consider myself his wife and can separate reality from the role I’m playing, everything will be fine. And most importantly, I’ll survive.

Be my wife.

He fucks like he talks, with apparent calm yet subtle darkness.

Everything about her will be only a part of my memories.

Because I loved you.” I lay a palm over my heart and fist the material of my dress. “And it’s killing me every day.

People know when death is coming. Sometimes, they can feel it and hope leaves their greedy eyes. Some fight, some know it’s useless. Others fight even when they know it’s useless.

Bogus Oxford men he could deal with, just as in his time he had known classics masters who had no Greek and parsons who had no divinity. Such men, confronted with proof of their deception, broke down and wept and left, or stayed on half-pay. But men who withheld genuine accomplishment—these were a breed he had not met but he knew already that he did not like them.

Trusting that someone can change is wishful thinking in ninety-nine percent of cases. It’s a waste of time and energy. However, there’s always that pesky one percent. The anomaly. The…deviation of human behavior. The fact that it’s almost impossible to predict or catch such a moment is what makes it special. Desirable, even. It’s a sin waiting to be committed. An untouched rose about to be plucked so it will wither in a place that’s far away from her natural habitat. And even that one percent can’t be trusted. It’s not that people change of their own volition. They’re forced to by external exertions, by circumstances and tragedies. In a way, second chances don’t really exist. They’re a myth told once in a while to appease emotionally fragile people so they can look forward to new days instead of spiraling into depression. Sooner or later, however, they realize such things don’t exist and are hit by a deeper form of depression, a form that will eventually lead to their ruin.

In order to know something, you must go back to the source. You have to be critical and wise what are the original roots and not the corrupted outcome but in order to know the truth, you have to examine all angles, all sides, all possible traces of deception, the fortress of protection of hidden elements camouflaged with what it seemed overlapping masks along a river of clear or dirty water. The water flows in varying speed depending on the atmospheric factors and men’s interventions in using the flowing water however, the stone remains. Think of the truth: many would hide it, distort it, change it, bury it, or even destroy it but the uncorrupted truth, the unparalleled truth shall always come out. How do you seek the truth? When you seek for the truth, are you guided with an honest heart? Why do you seek the truth? Or, are you among those folks who prefer to hide or bury the truth thinking that the majority won’t find it out? If and when the truth comes out, are you among those persons who will target sacrificial lambs for scapegoats? It is wise to remember that the truth however hidden shall eventually come out. A Cameroonian proverb says, "Water always finds a way out." The same thing I can say about the truth: the truth however hidden shall eventually come out. The water flows, the stones remain. The lies flow, the truth remains. The truth thrives forever." ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from K.H. Trilogy

I’m sorry for making you feel bad when I should’ve done the opposite. I lost the ability to feel love when I was a boy, but you’ve slowly but surely yanked those feelings out of me. You didn’t only yank them out, you also held tight to a part of me I thought was long gone. For you, I want to go back in time and keep that part alive for the moment I met you. In the past, I thought people were destined to leave, so being attached to anyone was useless. And I thought that at some point, you would leave, too. I fought the pull to you. I fought the lure of your rose scent and your breakable softness. But I couldn’t fucking last. Not when I craved your presence the moment you were out of sight. Not when my thoughts of breaking your purity turned to a need to protect it. I told you how different my love is, how dark it can get, but I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I don’t only need you; I also genuinely cannot live without you and the light you bring to my darkness. I know you deserve better, but I’m unable to let you go, so I’ll try my best to be worthy of you, Lenochka.

The very few among us who have earned the title psychopath, are the ones who deny or destroy their inner voice, their conscience: so that they are free to prey upon whom they wish with exuberance and abandon, do harm to others for their own pleasure. The sociopaths and psychopaths of the world who can put on a great show of caring but never be true to the character they deceptively portray to the world: Sick and Sadistic, Vulgar and Pathetic, the pedophiles and incestuous minded men and women who create brokenness and damage. Some are turned on by the taboos that are universally avoided because it is so obviously wrong, they love the feeling of power as they rape the sensitivity of the moral majority.

The Hindus teach that the Heaven World is more dangerous for the soul than the Hell World, since it is more deceptive and conduces to the fatal error of overconfidence and assumption of immunity. Like a fighter the soul must be constantly in training lest it grow soft on an ephemeral throne. So the splendor of the palace, the constant parades, the state barges, the gold and lapis lazuli, the chariots and bowmen, eat away one's awareness of the ultimate reality of conflict...

Beyond the typhoon shelters, ships slid past them, lighted buildings on the march, and the junks hobbled in their wakes. Inland, the Island whined and clanged and throbbed, and the huge slums twinkled like jewel boxes opened by the deceptive beauty of the night. Presiding over them, glimpsed between the dipping finger of the masts, sat the black Peak, Victoria, her sodden face shrouded with moonlit skeins; the goddess, the freedom, the lure of all that wild striving in the valley. They

Kestrel was stiff, her delicate shoes planted in the walkway’s gravel. She had lifted the hem of her storm-green skirts, the gesture of a lady, but he saw how she made fists of the fabric. "I’m sorry,” he said, guessing what troubled her: the memory of the Firstwinter Rebellion. Her dead friends, Arin’s deception, the halls of the governor’s palace choked with corpses. She gave him a narrow look. “Part of you isn’t sorry.” He couldn’t deny it. But she softened and said, “I’m not innocent either. I, too, feel sorry and not sorry about things I’ve done.” She let her dress’s hem fall to the stones and touched three fingers to the back of his hand. Arin forgot, for a moment, where he was and what they were discussing. A marvel: that such a light touch could feel like a whole caress, that his body could ignite so easily. Now she looked amused. “Let’s leave.” He slid a hand beneath her loose hair and thumbed the slope of her neck, feeling the fluttery pulse there. Her expression changed, amusement melting into slow pleasure. He said, “Let’s not go in.” “Arin.” She sighed. “We must go in.

See?” my mother would say, smiling at me and my sister, Carol, in turn. “We live in the greatest country on earth. See how lucky we are?” And yet the ash continued swirling down, and the smells of death came through the windows, crept under the door, hung in our carpets and curtains, and screamed of her lie. Is it possible to tell the truth in a society of lies? Or must you always, of necessity, become a liar? And if you lie to a liar, is the sin somehow negated or reversed? These are the kinds of questions I ask myself now: in these dark, watery hours, when night and day are interchangeable. No. Not true.

You can never trust the deceptive, manipulative and abusive financial solicitors/beggars of political funds of handsome putschists who commit defamation, calumny, polemics mongering, gossip-mongering, mob lynching, group bullying, cyber libel, threats, blackmail, digital aggression, character assassination, mudslinging and Machiavellian manipulators who habitually commit various crimes: forgery, fraud, libel, slander, identity theft, racketeering, and malversation of funds. ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from Sfidatopia Book 2, Stronzata Trilogy Genre: Inspirational, political literary novel © Ana Angelica Abaya van Doorn

When you shed the light, be sure to have a genuine heart, a truthful mind, and an honest soul. On 11th November 2018, I had a very inspired heart as I remember the "Sunday Express" from the airport to the City of Peace and Justice. Three years later, I look back with a grateful heart, vigilant mind, and wisdom filled soul as I had always chosen and prefer the paths toward the truth, and not the manipulations, deceptions, lies, libel and slander, calumny, calculated financial opportunism of political harridans, and targeted toxic, repetitive abusive ways of Signora Imbrogliona and her associate accomplice of Machiavellian manipulators. ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from Onestopia, Book 3 of Stronzata Trilogy

Whatever he thought about her personally—she wasn’t sure—his fretting and worry were endearing. She realized that she herself was feeling the strain, living constantly with the ice-cold secret. Goaded by anger at first, she had fallen into her new role, a different role. She had pushed herself for the Americans because she trusted them, they cared for her, they were professionals. But especially for Nate. Part of what Dominika was doing was for him, she realized. If he had asked her, she would have told him she had no thought of quitting. She was determined and focused. But right now she needed something more than the rush of deception, of the knowledge that her will was stronger than all others’, that she was besting the Gray Cardinals. She needed to be needed. By him. She could feel her secret self open the hurricane-room door and step outside. Dominika put her hands on the arms of Nate’s chair, bent over, and kissed him on the lips.

ANOTHER GALAXY, ANOTHER TIME. The Old Republic was the Republic of legend, greater than distance or time. No need to note where it was or whence it came, only to know that … it was the Republic. Once, under the wise rule of the Senate and the protection of the Jedi Knights, the Republic throve and grew. But as often happens when wealth and power pass beyond the admirable and attain the awesome, then appear those evil ones who have greed to match. So it was with the Republic at its height. Like the greatest of trees, able to withstand any external attack, the Republic rotted from within though the danger was not visible from outside. Aided and abetted by restless, power-hungry individuals within the government, and the massive organs of commerce, the ambitious Senator Palpatine caused himself to be elected President of the Republic. He promised to reunite the disaffected among the people and to restore the remembered glory of the Republic. Once secure in office he declared himself Emperor, shutting himself away from the populace. Soon he was controlled by the very assistants and boot-lickers he had appointed to high office, and the cries of the people for justice did not reach his ears. Having exterminated through treachery and deception the Jedi Knights, guardians of justice in the galaxy, the Imperial governors and bureaucrats prepared to institute a reign of terror among the disheartened worlds of the galaxy. Many used the Imperial forces and the name of the increasingly isolated Emperor to further their own personal ambitions. But a small number of systems rebelled at these new outrages. Declaring themselves opposed to the New Order they began the great battle to restore the Old Republic. From the beginning they were vastly outnumbered by the systems held in thrall by the Emperor. In those first dark days it seemed certain the bright flame of resistance would be extinguished before it could cast the light of new truth across a galaxy of oppressed and beaten peoples … From the First Saga Journal of the Whills

When you contribute to a safer world for the truth, contribute to help stop violence and help end impunity: be vigilant, be alert, stay safe, protect your emotions and health from aggressive troublemakers and manipulators, and have a strong, diplomatic, clear and firm boundaries. Be honest, be factual, and have an indestructible firm coping mechanism ways while you could experience waves of digital aggression as they would like to silence you, discredit you, and they try to ruin your integrity, persona, reputation and credibility. The deceptive, evil manipulators plant lies and create intrigues, polemics mongering, gossip-mongering, and calumny committed by abusive political harridans, bitches and assholes who can shame you privately and publicly. Group cyber lynching, group cyberbullying, defamatory libellous slander is committed by these cyber aggressors who are also financial-political abusive parasites, pathological liar cyberbullies toxic manipulators, and repetitive abusers. Usually when the stakes are high, these manipulative, deceptive, dishonest, unscrupulous aggressive and vindictive, abusive toxic people would resort to any forms of aggression/abuse: digital or cyber aggression, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, and psychological abuse, financial/economic abuse, and/or physical aggression. When a group of habitual, deceptive, toxic netizens, digital aggressors send you threats, disturb your family member with their concocted destructive lies, and they took hold a copy of your passport or ID - change it immediately. Document the threats, the libellous slander, done by these aggressive and abusive people who took advantage of you, used you, and abused you, and do not hesitate to report them to the right authorities. You have to learn how to handle these scammers, habitual offensive abusive offenders/perpetrators, manipulators, bullies, digital aggressors/aggression, cyber lynchers, coward, pathological liars, opportunistic users, economic/financial abusers, emotional, psychological and verbal abusers, and repetitive abusers without breaking the law. Even if they dehumanised you, shamed you and abused you for several years, do not and never dehumanise them. Always remember the three Rs of life: 1. Respect for self 2. Respect for others 3. Responsibility for all your actions ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from The S. Trilogy

When you have an honest heart, you do not get engaged nor get involved with any smear campaigns nor black propaganda! When you have an honest heart, you do not malign nor take advantage of generous people who helped and trusted you! When you have an honest heart, you do not shit on people whom you used and abused for three years! Do not fall into a political naïvety and become a victim or a doormat nor have your generosity and honest heart be used and abused by unscrupulous political movers, abusive, aggressive political harridans who scam gullible generous hearts by asking donations, funds, services, foods, urgent favours, and after using you and abusing your generosity, trust, and kindness; whereby these unscrupulous and deceptive political movers, abusive, aggressive political harridans intentionally and maliciously create forged screenshots of evidence convincing their audience or political groups that you are a mentally ill person, a brain-damaged person as they even brand you as "Sisang Baliw," or crazy Sisa, a threat, a risk, a danger, they maliciously and destructively red-tag your friends as communists, and they resort to calumny, libel and slander against you, to shame you, defame you, discredit you, blame you, hurt you, make you suffer for having known the truth of their deceptive global Operandi, and for something you didn’t do through their mob lynching, calumny, polemics mongering, forgery, and cyberbullying efforts. Their character assassination through libel and slander aims to ruin your integrity, persona, trustworthiness, and credibility with their destructive fabricated calumny, lies, identity theft, forged screenshots of polemics mongering, and framing up. Amidst all their forgery, fraud, libel and slander they committed: you have a right to defy and stop their habitual abuse without breaking the law and fight for your rights against any forms of aggression, public lynching, bullies, threats, blackmail, and their repetitive maltreatment or abuse, identity theft, forgery, deceptions fraud, scams, cyber libel, libel, and slander. When you defend human rights, you fight against corruption and injustice, help end impunity: be sure that you are not part of any misinformation, disinformation, smear campaigns and black propaganda. Do not serve, finance, or cater directly or indirectly for those dirty politicians. Those who are engaged in abusively dishonest ways do not serve to justify their end. Deceiving and scamming other people shall always be your lifetime self-inflicted karmic loss. Be a law-abiding citizen. Be respectful. Be honest. Be factual. Be truthful. You can be an effective human rights defender when you have clean and pure intentions, lawful and morally upright, and have an honest heart." ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from Calunniatopia Book 1, Stronzata Trilogy Genre: inspirational, political, literary novel © 2021 Ana Angelica Abaya van Doorn

Deception is the instrument of the weak and even extenuating circumstances can provide no excuse.

Il mio corpo non ha sempre reagito d'istinto o prima che potessi riflettere sulle conseguenze. Un tempo ero normale. Un tempo sangue e armi mi avrebbero inorridito.

The STAR WARS Novels Timeline OLD REPUBLIC 5000–33 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Lost Tribe of the Sith* Precipice Skyborn Paragon Savior Purgatory Sentinel 3650 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope The Old Republic: Deceived Lost Tribe of the Sith* Pantheon Secrets Red Harvest The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance 1032 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Knight Errant Darth Bane: Path of Destruction Darth Bane: Rule of Two Darth Bane: Dynasty of Evil RISE OF THE EMPIRE 33–0 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope Darth Maul: Saboteur* Cloak of Deception Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter 32 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace Rogue Planet Outbound Flight The Approaching Storm 22 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 22–19 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope The Clone Wars The Clone Wars: Wild Space The Clone Wars: No Prisoners Clone Wars Gambit Stealth Siege Republic Commando Hard Contact Triple Zero True Colors Order 66 Shatterpoint The Cestus Deception The Hive* MedStar I: Battle Surgeons MedStar II: Jedi Healer Jedi Trial Yoda: Dark Rendezvous Labyrinth of Evil 19 YEARS BEFORE STAR WARS: A New Hope STAR WARS: EPISODE III: Revenge of the Sith Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader Imperial Commando 501st Coruscant Nights Jedi Twilight Street of Shadows Patterns of Force The

She had to do this. She must do this. Her sisters' survival depended on it.

It was a buoyant place under a clear sky, everything in the air whispered that the plains were far behind and the sunlight sent a flicker and a flash of reflections glancing up from the snow; and two more invisible lines had been crossed and important ones: the accent had changed and wine cellars had taken the place of beerhalls. Instead of those grey mastodontic mugs, wine-glasses glittered on the oak. (It was under a vista of old casks in a Weinstube that I settled with my diary till bedtime.) The plain bowls of those wine-glasses were poised on slender glass stalks, or on diminishing pagodas of little globes, and both kinds of stem were coloured: a deep green for Mosel and, for Rhenish, a brown smoky gold that was almost amber. When horny hands lifted them, each flashed forth its coloured message in the lamplight. It is impossible, drinking by glass in those charmingly named inns and wine-cellars, not to drink too much. Deceptively and treacherously, those innocent-looking goblets hold nearly half a bottle and simply by sipping one could explore the two great rivers below and the Danube and all Swabia, and Franconia too by proxy, and the vales of Imhof and the faraway slopes of Würzburg: journeying in time from year to year, with draughts as cool as a deep well, limpidly varying from dark gold to pale silver and smelling of glades and meadows and flowers.

Slow down, Jeremy,

I was a sad fucking kid and I’m grateful my son’s fate isn’t the same.

join the dress. My nipples instantly

To the little girl in me who found heroes boring and fell head over heels with villains.

You think I would ever want you with another man? That’s like gutting myself with my own hands. You’re mine and I only ever want you to stay mine, not someone else’s.” “Then don’t say you’ll leave me again. You’re my last stop and I plan to stay, not move on.” “You’re my last stop, too.

Death can come in the form of a doppelgänger. There’s this myth as old as time that says when you meet someone who looks just like you, one of you will die. Who is the question. Who would die first? Me or her? According to the myth, the first to see the other one is bound to meet their end. In the same decade. Same year. Perhaps even the same day.

Challenging me is like swimming against the tides, you’ll eventually tire and will be swept away by the current. Understand this, I make the challenges, not the other way around. It’s time you learn that.

It might feel like you can’t take it, like it would be better to die, but that’s not true. It’ll heal, maybe not right away or in the near future, and it might not heal completely, but the wound will close and you will look back on this day as the moment you changed.

Adrian rises to his feet and my head snaps up when he stands beside me. “Now that you’re not drunk, I can oblige.

So tell me, Lia, has anyone touched you properly before? Has anyone pushed your buttons the way you wish?

would’ve beaten that habit out of you if I were.

The moment he steps inside, I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall.

Fuck me?” “Eventually.

A sob tears from my throat, because I know, I just know that I lost a part of Adrian tonight.

And Mommy?” Jer, bless his little heart, is the first member of my fan club.

Nothing could be trusted; everything could be gamed. There was no knowing on what level the game was being played. The law companies, the resource companies, the various sub-routines of the Direction were all of fractal complexity. All of it ran on code, as did the consciousnesses of the freebots themselves. Any level could in principle emulate a higher level to those below it; and the firewalls and safeguards against such deception could themselves be compromised. All you could do was make the best bet, and act.

Te amo Lia. Siempre lo he hecho. Pero mi forma de amar no es dulce ni suave. No es nada noble ni delicado. Mi amor es egoista y malvado. Es del tipo en el que mataré gente para protegerte y borraré a otros para vengarte. Es posesivo, obsesivo y no conoce fronteras, no cuando te conocí y ciertamente no ahora.

Las cicatrices significan qu estás viva y eres lo suficientemente fuerte para sobrevivir. Adoraré cada una de tus cicatrices hasta que seas capaz de enfrentarlas, Lenochka.

Un villano es el horeo de su propia historia.

Magnolia’s deception. Before this moment, I didn’t

the above quote by Charles Thomson (as recorded by Benjamin Rush and written in “Rulers of Evil” by Tupper Saussy), “Founding Father” and Secretary of the Continental Congress, admitting the American Revolution and its American Revolutionary War were hoaxed deceptions for Americans who

She had to do this. She must do this. Her sisters' survival depended on it.

I won’t be Winter Cavanaugh anymore. My thoughts are reinforced when the Russian says, “From now on, you’re Lia Volkov. Wife of Adrian Volkov.

Please stop torturing me with my own self. Please.

People say death is the end. For me, it’s only the beginning.

It is a pity, Imani, how little of your people’s history you truly know. The truth has been hidden from you, and you have welcomed the deception with open arms.

Je ne comprenais pas mes émotions à l’époque, mais je les comprends maintenant. Je t’aime, Lia. Je t’ai toujours aimée. Pas d’un amour doux ou tendre. Il n’a rien de noble ou de délicat. Mon amour est égoïste et méchant. Mon amour me conduit à tuer des gens pour te protéger et à en faire disparaître d’autres pour te venger. Mon amour est possessif, obsessionnel et ne connaît aucune limite. Il n’en connaissait pas quand je t’ai rencontrée, et il n’en connaît certainement pas maintenant.

Pourquoi ne pouvais-je pas aimer quelqu’un de normal ? Oh, c’est vrai. Parce que je suis loin d’être normal moi-même.

Je t’ai toujours traité de monstre, mais il a fallu que je t’oublie pour réaliser que tu es le monstre dont j’ai besoin.

Esiste una sola regina per un uomo. E io ho scelto la mia mesi fa. © ‪#DeceptiveHuntersSeries #Cassia- Giovanna Roma #teaser #DarkRomance

Unscrupulous political movers, dishonest politicians, and Machiavellian manipulators are among the endless toxic snakes of any society. ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from Calunniatopia Book 1, Stronzata Trilogy

Sometimes, the best defense is a good offense.