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khataabehangel · 3 years

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yasser aldurra

If you are reading this, it is because you searched the name, “Yasser Aldurra” in order to get to know him better. You want to dig up some dirt on him to see if he’s really the “good guy” that he claims to be. I am here to tell you, that if he asks for you, stay the hell away from him at all costs.

If you are here because you are searching for him as a doctor, I don’t know anything about that. I have no idea how he is as a physician. This post is strictly about him as a romantic partner. You won't find any reviews for him here so move along; this isn't for you.

For everyone else who is here because he asked for you for marriage... let me introduce myself. I am someone that met him for just a few days. We spoke to each other with the intention to get married. I have never bashed anyone after getting to know them, but he is such a liar and a bad person, that I felt like it is my duty to warn girls about him. Most of this stuff I picked up on because he never shuts up and he accidentally revealed too much about himself without realizing it. The rest I found out after things ended between us. When I first met him, I really thought that he was perfect, and I couldn't find anything wrong with him. Let’s just say that I was very wrong about that....

Here are some takeaway points if you don’t want to read this entire post:

he has actual narcissistic personality disorder and ALL the characteristics associated with that disorder

He’s insanely cheap and has lied about how much he makes (even if you don’t ask)

he’s a liar

everything he tells you is a lie.even things that don’t seem like lies, are lies. don’t believe anything he says. he twists the truth and gives half-truths to make things seem more plausible and believable even though they are lies.

HE NEVER SHUTS UP. HE TALKS SO MUCH AND HE’LL NEVER LET YOU GET A WORD IN

he’s manipulative

his “deen” is so incredibly flawed, and it is not the correct Islam that me and you follow.

he sees women as being inferior to men, and that men should control women and be the person in charge of the relationship. That men have the final say in all matters and that their opinion is more valid than the woman’s.

He’s able to fake being a certain way until he gets comfortable enough to reveal his true self that he hides behind his façade

he has no friends.

HES A GUY WITH NO FRIENDS. HOW MANY GUYS DO YOU KNOW THAT DONT HAVE ANY FRIENDS?! I don’t freaking know any! he’s so intolerable that even guys don’t like being around him.

has no social skills

easily offended by EVERYTHING

his ego is as fragile as glasshe does not fight fair. if he gets hurt by something that you said, even if it was unintentional, he will say something exponentially more hurtful back to you as a defense mechanism. it’s not healthy.

he will never answer your questions directly.

he will rush you to get married. he’ll use his age as the reason, but it’s really so that he traps you before you realize how trash he actually is.

he doesn't understand how to pace a relationship and will talk to you as if you've been together for years even if it’s just been a few days. He will rush you to move things forward even though you just met. When you refuse or say you need more time, he will try to make you feel guilty about it.

He constantly plays the role of the victim

He will try to make you feel sorry for him as a way to constantly control you and make things your fault, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.

He’s ridiculously controlling

he’s disrespectful as hell, and will even be disrespectful to your parents and your family

he doesn't understand boundaries or when to stop doing something, even if you ask him directly.

he is extremely blunt and hurtful

his expectations for marriage are unrealistic and unachievable. the girl he’s looking for doesn't exist in this century

he’s been through some traumatic things in his life that he’s never gotten past and it has heavily influenced how he is today. He needs some serious therapy, but ironically he’ll never get it because he thinks he’s perfect and doesn’t see anything wrong with himself.

he is childish and immature, even at 36 years old.

his mom. he worships her. their relationship is SO weird. he will tell his mom about everything that you have talked about.his mom expects to live with him in the future

even though he lives alone, he never took the time to teach himself how to cook

he cannot care for himself at any capacity and expects other people to do it for him.

He is racist

he has a hard time understanding new things that he is unfamiliar with. even things that are common sense, he struggles with.

he will belittle you and your knowledge, to make himself feel better about not understanding something. He will also go into an insane level of detail about a random topic, and when you change the subject, he goes back to it. If you ask him to move on from it, he won’t

He will control every conversation that you will ever have. He will do it slowly, and you won’t realize it until one day when you get a text from him, and you become disgusted with the idea of talking to him.

He is extremely opinionated, and any opinion that you have that disagrees with his beliefs, he will argue about it with you forever.

He says everything that he is thinking, no matter how inappropriate it is.

He has no filter. Although he lies like crazy about his past and his flaws, he is extremely honest about his expectations and how he wants you to treat him. This normally would be a good thing, except for the fact that he expects to be treated like some sort of god.

he’s insanely judgmental and not understanding. Anything that you share about yourself will somehow get thrown back in your face and used against you.

Gets angry at the stupidest, smallest things and will make things into a bigger deal than they actually need to be

He gets mad very quickly, and he doesn’t forgive or forget easily. You basically have to kiss his ass for him to forgive you for the “thing” that you did “wrong”, which is usually something stupid. He does this as a way to gaslight and control you.He will create issues out of thin air just to control your behavior and how you treat him.

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Yeah......................... you should run for the hills. Do me a favor though and don’t tell him about this post. just say that you are not interested without giving a reason.

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First of all, he is not as religious as he claims to be.

He claims to have memorized a large part of the Quran and he knows countless ahadeeth, but in reality, he only knows enough to quote it out of context to make whatever backwards argument that he is trying to make seem valid. He will use religion as the main source to back up all of his very twisted, and extremely unIslamic beliefs. He also uses it as a shield to defend himself in almost every situation. He also misquotes the ayah in surah an-nissa to convince you that men are supposed to control women, even though that’s not what that ayah means. He bends ayahs and takes them out of context just so he can use a strong source like the Quran to back up his weird, and twisted beliefs that have nothing to do with what the Quran is ACTUALLY saying (because he’s taking things out of context and interpreting them how he likes). Also, he mostly uses this to sell you the idea that he’s “a good guy”. Do not buy it. Do. not. buy. it. it is a lie. People that are actually religious do not do the things that he does or twist Islam to suit them. Islam gives clear instruction to men that they are the CAREGIVERS of woman. They are responsible for taking care of them, for spending on them, and for the other responsibilities that the girl’s parents had before she married that guy. They are not the “controllers” of women. Instead, they should be the leaders in the relationship because they have a bigger responsibility.

Secondly, and more importantly, he is a complete liar and this stems from the fact that he is a narcissist. I do not say this lightly. If you look up the DSM-5 definition of it, he fits the criteria perfectly. What is narcissism?

Narcissistic personality disorder — one of several types of personality disorders — is a mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

A narcissistic personality disorder causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with narcissistic personality disorder may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling, and others may not enjoy being around them.

Signs and symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder

People with the disorder can:

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Exaggerate achievements and talents

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

Take advantage of others to get what they want

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

At the same time, people with narcissistic personality disorder have trouble handling anything they perceive as criticism, and they can:

Become impatient or angry when they don't receive special treatment

Have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

Feel depressed and moody because they fall short of perfection

Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

There’s a lot to unpack here. I know it’s a lot, but if you’re still reading this, it’s probably because 1) you are Yasser (hi!) you are so full of yourself that you googled yourself and got here or 2) you were actually considering moving forward with this guy, but you are now concerned (as you should be).

Let’s start with the inflated sense of their own importance.

He will talk about his achievements for hours if you let him. In general, he never shuts up or gives you the chance to speak. He has exaggerated so many of his achievements. The one most memorable to me was the fact that he claimed to have “two board certifications, and two specialties”. like... okay.... most doctors who have a specialty also are board certified in internal medicine... you're not special. He talks so much about how “hard” he worked to get to where he is today as if the people around him are just sitting on their asses doing nothing. He bragged forever about all the places that offered him a fellowship.. which ironically were only a handful. I did not feel like he was being honest about his job offers at all. and if he was, then he’s a complete dumbass for turning them down because the offer he ended up choosing was apparently a lot worse, according to him. so, he’s either a liar, or a dumbass... or both.

on that note: he would frequently bring up the topic of money and he overemphasized how “little” money he makes. Apparently, this is because he did not want people to take advantage of him, including the person he’s getting to know for freaking marriage. any idiot on the street will tell you that a doctor in this country, that has a specialty, and is working in a private practice makes well over $250-$350k MINIMUM. He kept saying how little money he made even though I never asked him about it or even mentioned it. Everything that he told me regarding the topic of money revolved around an idea from the Quran that is taken completely out of context: “a person who overspends is the friend of the devil” (misquoting the Quran and failing to mention the next ayah on how God does not like people who are excessively stingy).

He set an exact budget on how much money he thinks is okay to spend on certain items like cars, shoes, shirts, electronics, and even things like the heating bill. He made it clear which stores he likes to shop at (they were stores like kohl's and jc penny). It’s fine to have a budget and be smart with your money. But it’s not fine to ask the girl that you are getting to know how many shoes she owns, what stores she buys her clothes from, and then blatantly tell her that the places she shops are “too expensive” for him and that she can get clothes from Kohl’s and JC Penny like him. She can shop wherever the hell she wants to shop and spend however much she wants to spend. She didn’t get those things by using your wallet. You are just getting to know each other. Chill the fuck out. Just because he has a specific budget for how much he thinks it’s okay to spend on things, we weren’t even together, and he was already controlling and judging me for my spending habits. And just to be clear, I don’t even shop frequently, or at stores that are absurdly overpriced. To hide the fact that he is so cheap, he then said “I don’t want you to think that I’m cheap. I donate a lot of my money to people in need.” A person who is not cheap doesn't need to say that they are not cheap.

For someone who speaks so highly of his achievements and success, it’s surprising that he constantly talks about how poor he is and how little money he spends.

I think we should talk about his biggest lie: what occurred in his past relationship.

Everything that he says is a lie, or some sort of twisted version of the truth. When I met him, he told me that he was divorced, which is true. But he made out his ex to be the shittiest person imaginable. He claimed that she was a “narcissist” (wow, projecting much?!). He also told me that he was the one who decided to end things with her, and that he “tried so hard to make it work but she was just very stubborn, controlling, and made him fear being around her.” He “didn’t feel safe around her.” When I asked him to clarify what he meant by that, he didn’t elaborate. It sounded like he was taking the words of his ex and using them to play the victim.

she apparently also wasn't there for him emotionally (which is imo impossible because he’s soooooooo goddamn needy, I can’t even imagine anyone even being able to fulfill this to be honest). He said that she didn’t pray, and he somehow didn’t pick up on this during their engagement!?! what a lie. whenever he would mention his engagement with her and all the “red flags” that he missed, he would always say, “I only blame myself, I’m dumb” trying to play the victim. worst of all.... he said that they were together only 6 months. Later on, I found out that they were together for TWO YEARS. I don’t know how the hell she managed to stay with his needy, controlling ass for 2 years, but may God reward her for what she endured. I couldn’t talk to him for more than a few days, I can’t imagine being with him for a few years. He bragged about how he paid her whatever was left of her mahr (dowry) and the class that she took when they ended things. He made it seem like his ex came from a very humble and simple family that was not very well-off financially, and that her dowry was A LOT.

I also found out that he was CRAZY controlling. His ex was apparently a super white and beautiful blonde. If they were in public and her sleeve came up a little to reveal her wrist, he would lose his shit. He was unbelievably jealous.

When they were signing the papers to get married, her parents, (who I found out later from someone.. are actually insanely well-off because her dad is a successful af businessman), didn’t ask for any mahr (dowry) because they trusted that his career as a physician is promising and that he would take care of their daughter. The person writing the papers said that they had to put down a number, because Islamically, it is the right of the girl to receive a gift from her new husband. So, someone in the room suggested $5,000. Not only did he agree to this ridiculously low number, but never even offered more when it was suggested. He just accepted it and moved on because he’s so cheap. Just for some perspective, I know that mahr can start anywhere from $10K-$15 and be as high as $50-$100K depending on how well off the guy is. This guy is a freaking doctor which means he makes that in like a week or so... Even as a resident or a fellow, that’s pocket change.

anyway. Her father got her a freaking brand-new Audi as a wedding gift, and her new husband gave her the promise of $5,000 after they get married... LOL.

so, when he was “bragging” about paying off her dowry when they ended things, I really thought it was a huge sum of money. it wasn't.

How he deals with his finances is really none of my business. I only mentioned it here because he would constantly mention it and emphasize that he didn’t want anyone (including his future wife) to take advantage of him. I could care less about how much money he makes because even though I never told him this (mostly because he never shuts up and I never got the chance to tell him about it), I am independently wealthy from a business that I opened up a few years ago. I am completely financially independent from my parents.

Although I never cared about his finances at ALL, it’s important to know that in Islam, a husband MUST spend on his wife. He MUST treat her well. and he MUST care for her and her finances. It’s his duty. Whatever money she makes, belongs to her. And whatever she wants to spend or save, is up to her. She can work full-time and save every penny that she has if she wants, WHILE HE SPENDS ON HER. She doesn't have to give him a cent of the money she makes (unless she wants to). AND even if she is working and she makes her own money HE STILL has to spend on her, and on the things that she needs while she saves her money or spends her money in the way that she wants. In Islam the husband MUST SPEND ON HIS WIFE. AND SHE CAN CHOOSE TO WORK AND SAVE HER MONEY IF SHE WANTS. AND IF SHE DOESN’T WANT TO WORK, SHE HAS THAT OPTION, AND HE STILL HAS TO SPEND ON HER. WHETHER SHE WORKS OR NOT, HE HAS TO SPEND ON HER. anyway. that’s why I mentioned it. I don’t care about it, I just listed it just in case anyone that’s reading this does care about it so that they know what they're getting into. Go back and read the symptoms of narcissism that I included above. It literally mentions that people with this disorder have issues with their money. This has absolutely nothing to do with Islam, and everything to do with him and his condition. He just uses Islam to back up his twisted viewpoints by misquoting things and taking them out of context.

And Islamically, just so you know, God does not like those who are cheap with their wealth. He loves those that are generous with the money that He blessed them with. And He loves those that spend on their families. Those that have wealth and are able to afford more, are expected to spend more on mahr when they get married. THAT’S what the Quran says in surah baqara at the end of the second juz when the topic of marriage, engagement, and divorced are mentioned. So even if he was using Islam as an excuse to protect his money from his wife, he’s literally wrong and it doesn’t say that anywhere. In fact, in a hadith, it is mentioned that if someone’s husband is not spending enough on her and her kids to take care of them, she is allowed to take whatever money she needs from him without his knowledge or his permission.

His past relationship tells you everything you really need to know about him. For example, everything that he complained about his ex, were things that he does. He uses the exact character flaws in him that ended his marriage as being the character flaws that his ex had. For example, he is clearly a narcissist. You can pick up on this up within just a few conversations with him. Yet, he claimed that his wife was a narcissist, and she has all of the negative characteristics of one.

He claimed that she was controlling in the relationship, yet he has extreme controlling behavior. If I didn’t talk to him or give him attention for an entire day because I was at work, he would lose his shit. He would be passive aggressive then progressively more and more aggressive until I asked him what was wrong. Then he would lash out at me as if we’ve been in a relationship for years and I did something majorly wrong, even though I didn’t. Every free moment that I had was apparently to be dedicated only to him. If I wanted to go out and I mentioned that I was leaving my house, he would start a fight just so that I could stay home and “fix” things with him. Let me remind you that I only spoke to him for a few days..... we were not a couple at any capacity, so he had no right to do this. It was extremely manipulative behavior. I was constantly gaslighted by him. I would find myself apologizing to him very frequently, and most of the time I didn’t even know why. Everything that I said to him was offensive, even though it really wasn't. For example, I mentioned the word “FOB” once to describe someone, and he was so offended by it, even though it wasn't directed at him and I didn’t say it in a derogatory manner.

Back to his ex. He claimed that she never prayed and that this was the main cause of him wanting to end things... but the entire time that I was with him, he never mentioned how frequently he prays, even when I asked him about it directly. He claimed to be super religious, but I never saw that in his worship at all (but also, only God knows that so I can’t judge him for that.. I’m just saying what I noticed). He didn’t really make time for extra ibada. Which would be totally fine if he didn’t try so hard to sell himself as being “good and religious.” The entire time we spoke he kept saying how he was religious and how he wanted a religious wife. I also never saw that in his character. I never saw that with how he spoke to and about others. He looked down on everyone that wasn't from the same background as him or had the same education as himself. He was very disrespectful of others. I found that it mostly stems from his ignorance and intolerance of other cultures.

He said some really disturbing things about immigrants coming here and mooching off of the system. That they are basically living off of the taxes that he pays. Even though he is an immigrant himself, he didn’t believe that they deserve the same opportunities and chances that he got. He firmly believed that everything he has now was earned by him, and that he worked hard for it. It never crossed his mind that he was given a chance by people who stood up and fought for those rights and opportunities for immigrants. He always saw himself as someone who was “self-made.” He was extremely oblivious to the fact that he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did, had it not been for those same opportunities that he didn’t think the other immigrants deserve. He was very arrogant.

His social interactions:

I heard from someone this crazy story about a girl he was getting to know:

He suggested that she and he go out to some restaurant to eat. After they finished dinner, he INSISTED that they get dessert. She said she was full, and she wasn’t interested in getting anything, but he kept insisting over and over until she finally said yes. She chose a brownie or something that she liked. And he didn't freaking order anything. He suggested that they share because she needs to be watching what she eats. Apparently what she chose was too many calories for her or something.

SHE DIDNT EVEN WANT DESSERT IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND WHEN SHE GOT IT YOU TOLD HER IT WAS TOO MANY CALORIES FOR HER!? It boggles my mind how hypocritical he is. Everything he says and does is carefully planned so that he can tear down someone’s self-esteem and self-worth just to make himself seem better. I interpreted this story as him being too cheap to get two desserts. He obviously wanted something, and he wanted to overcompensate for his cheapness by insisting that she gets something so she thinks that he’s doing this out of generosity. This way, he only has to pay for one dessert because he can suggest later that they share it. Also, the fact that she ordered what she wanted makes it seem like she's in control of the situation, but then he gaslights her. In order to get her half of the dessert, he can’t just ask to share. Instead, he uses it as an opportunity to take a jab at her self-esteem so that she questions herself. It’s actually kind of complex for someone as stupid as him. He’s crazy manipulative and controlling like that. It’s the only way he knows how to interact with people, really.

When I asked him about people in his community and the friends he has there, he was EXTREMELY defensive. This was honestly the biggest red flag for me. I asked because if we were to get married, I have to move to where he is, because he refused to move to where I am. I wanted to make sure that there is some sort of community around us that we can interact with. I wanted to know if I could build new friendships and relationships with people there. AND I wanted to know how likable he is, because from everything I saw in the few days that we spoke, he was very intolerable. I wanted to know if it was because he was always like that or if something was going on with him. I think it is a pretty fair way to gauge someone’s general demeanor. Everyone I know has AT LEAST one friend. People that don’t have friends usually don’t for a reason. Either they keep their distance from others, or others have a reason to keep their distance from them. In most cases, it’s a red flag about that person. But in some circumstances, it’s really not that person’s fault and there is nothing specifically wrong with them. So, I had to make sure for myself.

If a guy has no friends, he will automatically expect you to spend all of your time with him. He won't understand or accept you casually going out with the girls or having them come over. Also, in general, guys don’t have as much drama as girls. Even if a guy is a complete scumbag, other guys will find something about him that they like, and they will generally get along. That’s just how guys are. They're all chill with each other, even if they don’t know each other well, or at all.

So, when I asked him this question and he got extremely defensive, I knew something was wrong. He claimed that the guys by him didn’t invite him anywhere because he isn't married. Everyone in his community is apparently married, and according to him, he was outcasted because of his relationship status. ...which doesn't make any sense. I’ve never heard of this being an issue for anyone, guy or girl. At least in my community, single guys and girls all get invited to married-people events. I know this, because I get invited to those events.

Basically, he has no friends. He doesn't even keep in touch with his old roommates or classmates. He doesn't really talk to his sisters either. That’s why this question was so triggering and offensive. Even though it’s not an offensive question at all. “tell me about the community there and your friends.” Literally nothing wrong with it...

He’s a loser. I hate to say this, but he really is.

The only person that he talks to every day is his mom. And to be honest, she's not the best role model for him. That leads me to my next major point.

His mom

She basically made up a very elaborate fabricated story about her and her son and how she hasn't been able to find him a wife for some fake reason. It was a complete sob story told to a rishta auntie so that she can hook him up with some girls. Every part of that story was fake and was told in a specific way to shift blame from the trash that is her son and to also to instill empathy for them. If she got your number, most likely this is how she did it.

The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree. She’s just as much as a liar as her son, if not more. I wouldn't be surprised if she taught him all of the manipulative things that he says and does as well as all the lies that he spews.

That’s not even why I mentioned her. The main issue you need to be concerned about is the fact that he’s in his freaking late thirties and she still has complete control over him. Their relationship is not healthy at all. Because she is the only person that he talks to, he tells her everything. And I really do mean everything, without any exaggeration.

Absolutely nothing off limits for what he shares with her, including private conversations with you. He will share EVERYTHING with his mom, no matter how personal it is and no matter how much you ask him to keep it to himself. and if it is something bad, he will use it against you later on and make you feel bad about it and judge you for it. everything that you have shared about yourself with him in private, he has already told his mom about. They have already discussed it, and they have already made the decision on whether or not they want to blow it out of proportion.

If what you shared about yourself or your life interferes, in anyway, with the plan that they have in mind for him... your issue will be exposed. For example, if you want to wait a year or two before having kids, this interferes with his plan to have kids immediately after marriage. HE WILL NOT TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS DIRECTLY. Instead, he will act like he is 100% okay with it and seem completely supportive of your decision. If you ask if he has a problem with it, he will lie and say no. Then after you hang up, he will call his mom immediately afterward, then tell her everything that you told him. THEN she won't even call your mom to complain... she will first call the rishta auntie that gave them your moms number and ASK ABOUT YOU even if the lady doesn't know you. The thing that you shared with him in private, and he said he was okay with, has now reached two other people without your knowledge. After his mom talks to the rishta auntie and tells her about this “world-ending issue” that has come to light...that lady will tell her that she doesn't even know you well enough to give any advice (about something that’s not her freaking business). then she’ll tell his stupid mom to take it up with your mom. So, within 20 hours of talking to him about a private matter that you both seemingly clearly agreed on... your mom will get a phone call from his complaining about it and how that’s not what he wants.

This “guy” is so emasculated by his mother, that he can’t even stand up for himself. It’s so pathetic. She has to speak on his behalf.

Sometimes it is okay for parents to step in because they handle sensitive situations more delicately and in an eloquent way. But for him, EVERYTHING was a sensitive situation, and he didn’t know how to handle any of it on his own. the worst part is that his mom is a complete bitch. She was SO rude when she was speaking to my mom. She was unnecessarily aggressive in her speech and in her tone. Like if she was at least able to handle things like a normal person, it would've been acceptable. But she was literally this biggest bitch I've ever met. I’ve never had a guy’s mom talk to mine in such rude way. It’s no wonder why he acts like such a baby, why everything offends him, and why he expects everything to go his way all the time. They literally think that just because he’s a doctor, that he needs to be worshipped and that the world revolves around him.

This happened several times when I was getting to know him during those few days. I eventually learned that there are absolutely secrets between them. Everything you tell him will reach his mom, and she will share it with the third party that got you guys in touch. I’m honestly not surprised that he shared everything I told him with her. It actually makes perfect sense.

You must understand that they have a very weird relationship for a reason. You are not just going to marry him... you are also marrying his mom. That’s one of the reasons that she has to know you so well. One of his conditions is that you have to be okay with her living with you guys. He is adamant about this. He has a room for her in his place for when she comes to visit, but she's planning on moving in permanently. But yea, his mom has fully reinforced his toxic behavior and expectations. It’s perfectly okay to live with your spouse’s parents. But it’s not okay for them to learn everything about you, and for you to not have any privacy with your spouse. I blame his trash character on her and her Karen-ness.

On that note..

His trash character

If he hasn't shown this to you yet, because he is still on his “fake” persona that he puts up early in the relationship.. then heed my warning. Strap yourself in for the hell that you are about to experience (or have already experienced).

Expect him in the beginning to “love-bomb” you. meaning, he will overly praise and admire you all the time. He will put u on a pedestal and tell you that you are the best person in the world. that if he ends up with you he will be the luckiest guy ever. You are perfect in every way, and everything that you have done is a huge achievement (even if it’s something basic). He will list out all of the things that he loves and adores in you. this will come literally the second time you talk lol. He’ll act crazy obsessed with you.

BUT..... he is ONLY doing this because 1 of 2 things are about to happen. The first is that he is craving for you to admire him in a similar manner. He is literally teaching you how he wants you to praise him (all the time btw). He wants you to compliment him back. Everything that he said is straight up just him fishing for a compliment. Don’t give him one. You don’t need to. Just general advice: you don’t owe a guy anything for what he does. If you want to compliment him on something you genuinely like, go for it. But NEVER feel obligated to compliment a guy just because he complimented you. It’s okay to just say “thank you” and accept it.

The second, is actually really scary. This is a tactic that narcissists used when trying to trap someone. Remember the term I used earlier, love-bombing? Well, this is actually a tactic that narcissists use in their cycle of abuse. It’s not healthy to have such strong feelings towards someone you just met. But that’s how he’ll talk to you. If you want to learn more about what I’m talking about, read this article to get a better idea: https://www.healthline.com/health/love-bombing#soulmate-claims

Eventually he will start gaslighting you. Making you question yourself. making you feel like everything that you say and do is offensive to him. You will start apologizing to him for stupid things.

Out of all the lies that he told, he was ironically very honest about his uncontrollable anger. He gets angry, UNBELIEVABLY quickly and about EVERYTHING. If something goes wrong, it is the end of the world for him. He lashes out immediately, in a very rude and disrespectful way (...does this remind you of someone........? if you said his mom, good job!). Just like a bratty little kid lashes out disrespectfully at people around them when they don’t get their way... this guy is the same way. If he is “offended” by something... which is literally everything. Everything that freaking offends him.. he lashes out. If it is an issue that deals directly with his future with you, and his bratty behavior is not applicable, that’s when his mom is involved.

Yasser, if you are reading this, please grow the fuck up. you are in your late thirties, stop acting like a prepubescent dickless little boy who's balls haven't dropped. You are a grown ass man, act like it. Real men don’t have their moms listening in on every conversation, fighting their every battle, and being their only friend. Real men deal with their issues in a calm and respectful way, not by disrespecting the other person, projecting their issues onto them, and purposefully saying something mean to hurt them because they apparently hurt you. grow the fuck up.

You need therapy to deal with your mommy and daddy issues. You need therapy to deal with your textbook case of narcissism. you need therapy so that you can stop being such a shitty person so that maybe one day, someone other than your mom will love you.

I’m glad I met you, because you were the absolute worst person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Now I know exactly what to avoid with future guys that I meet, and I also have the comfort of knowing that no one will ever be as horrible as you.

If you don’t plan on bettering yourself after seeing this, I hope that if you do get married that you end up with someone who deserves you because they are just as shitty as you. I hope they take advantage of you and the money you keep hoarding. I hope they lie to you about everything in their life and in their past, and you don’t find out until it’s too late and you can’t leave or end things. I hope that they use your vulnerabilities against you. I hope that they disrespect you and belittle you. I hope that they are able to control you in every aspect of your life. I hope they are able to deal with your psychotic mother in a way that hurts you. I hope you are emasculated in your own marriage, and that your wife wears the pants in the relationship. I hope she makes decisions without you, and I hope it drives you crazy.

I hope your ex-wife got remarried to someone who actually deserves her and appreciates her. I hope their relationship is happy. I hope that her happiness with her new husband makes you completely miserable because you lied about how horrible she was and you abused her.

You lied about and exaggerated the things that I said to you in private and exposed me. I hope that you are exposed to everyone, just like you exposed me and my secrets. You may have told lies and exaggerations about me, but I’m telling the truth about you. Everything you said about me is nothing to be ashamed of. But everything about you is disgusting and shameful. You’re lucky that I didn’t go into more detail about how horrible you are, and the outrageous things that you said and did. This was in no way revenge. I could care less about you or getting back at you. I wrote this because I hope that every girl that meets you finds this post and heeds my warning about you and they are protected from you, your mom, and both of your evil. It’s a shame, that you have so much potential to be a good person, but you choose to be this way. I feel bad for you.

If you are a girl that met this fool and you want to share your experience, feel free to make an account if you don’t already have one and share with us. I genuinely hope that this post helps someone. I would love to know that it has. Leave me a message if this helped you in any way, even if it does not relate to him directly. Please don’t send him any hate on my behalf, that’s not the intention of this at all. I would prefer if he doesn’t see this, so don’t send this to him if you know him. If he does find it on his own, that’s on him.

If you are someone who is in a relationship with a guy or a girl you suspect has narcissistic personality disorder, please leave that relationship asap. It is not healthy for you. They will traumatize you and leave a lasting impact on what you’ll expect your future relationships to look like. You deserve better. Even if you don’t think that you do, YOU DESERVE BETTER. Leave. It’s better to be single than to be with this type of person.

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astrozones · 4 years

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Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 2: Roman Has a Rough Time

Angsty fic incoming

my discord server if you wanna join- Astro’s Zone

Three hours.

If Roman had to guess how long he had been staring at himself in the mirror, it was three hours.

From an outside perspective, Roman might seem conceited and narcissistic. But while staring at the mirror, all Roman could see were mistakes.

His hair looked messy, people were going to laugh at him.

His freckles stood out. He could cover them with makeup, but if others found out he was wearing makeup- god he could barely stand the thought.

His face looked odd in general. And his weight? Don’t get him started! Looking at his arms, his legs, his chest, all he could see were flaws, flaws , flaws !

Roman felt tears threatening to spill and shoved his head into a pillow. Why did he have to be so… ugly? Why must whatever God up there curse him like this? And no matter how many times his grandparents and aunt told him he wasn’t, he just couldn’t see what the fuck they were talking about.

Well, at least he was in therapy. Maybe they’d fix him.

Roman’s parents weren’t too fond of him, he knew. They were the only ones that would admit the truth, that he was ugly, and that they didn’t deserve such a disgusting son. They would take any opportunity to get him away from them, and once his distant relatives had suggested taking Roman to therapy, citing his ‘sudden declining happiness’, and ‘inability to eat’, his parents had leaped at the possibility, taking the chance as soon as they could.

They had talked about putting him in the six-hour program that started earlier in the day. The only reason they didn’t was because the school would start coming after them for attendance issues. Well, more than they usually did, anyway.

Roman glanced back up at the mirror, frowning. He couldn’t go to school looking like this, no, they’d just make fun of him.

Another day of skipping school it was.

His parents wouldn’t care, they never did until they were being yelled at. He’d just creep downstairs and tell whatever parent was down there taking a swig of alcohol that he was staying home, they’d just grunt and wave him off. And once the school called, they’d tell them he was sick, and rush upstairs to yell at him that he hadn’t told them before heading off to work.

Today was no different.

It was about noon when Roman opened the cupboard for the first time that day. Skimming over the options, he bit his lip. There was nothing there that he wanted . He had everything he should want, plenty of options that many kids would kill to have, and yet Roman didn’t want any of it. He didn’t really know what he wanted, he was barely hungry anyway. He’d just come back to it later and choose something then.

He ignored the voice in his head that told him he wouldn’t.

Grabbing his backpack, he made his way back to his room to start his homework. Well, “start” his homework, which actually meant wallowing in his sorrow while thinking about the week so far.

Therapy was… okay so far. He couldn’t tell them a lot of stuff, just that he was insecure. He wouldn’t tell them about how he hated looking in mirrors, or that he struggled to even eat a snack during the day. No, no, then they would know too much. If his parents found out, there would be consequences. Not hitting or anything! His parents would never abuse him.

Never.

His first day had been mediocre. He filled out questionnaires, and they played a board game for rec. Nothing important. Nothing new. Nothing, just like how he saw himself.

At least he wasn’t the only new kid. There was the hoodie kid, who he had made uncomfortable with his stupid assumptions , and who he had given a terrible nickname to. Really, Roman? You could at least come up with something better . And Patton told him he arrived last week Wednesday, and Logan two days prior. So, all in all, they were all new. Which was great!

Roman couldn’t help but feel happy at meeting the others. Sue him, he loved meeting new people! The prospect of finding out something about a person you barely knew was fun, at least to him.

You should stop, you’re prying into people’s lives when they don’t want you to. The voice in his head said. Roman didn’t acknowledge it in the rest of his internal monologue.

Logan was nice, despite his attitude the day prior. On Roman’s first day, he had been very helpful in his own, stubborn way. They had a couple of back-and-forths, and while that might seem aggressive to others, it made Roman feel more comfortable. Logan liked him enough to argue without any hate behind it.

Patton was unbelievably kind. He would go out of his way to help Roman and Logan, even when they were battling via a board game. Patton had hugged him the moment he saw Roman, but when Roman had seemed apprehensive he backed off a little bit. Not to say that he calmed down in the slightest, he was practically bouncing in his chair when they played.

And then there was Virgil, the one who had taken on the resident ‘New Kid’ title. He was quieter than the others, more resigned. When Roman had actually started getting him to talk, he started coming out of his shell, or hoodie, a little bit. This made Roman extremely happy, at least he was likeable enough for the more apprehensive to talk to him! Roman had also noticed that Virgil had black nail polish on, which made him want to do his own.

Well, Roman never really had good impulse control.

20 minutes later, Roman’s nails were red and absolutely fabulous.

5 minutes later, Roman realized in a panic that he had run out of acetone, and would have to either pick at his nails or go outside with nail polish on. He was a boy! He would definitely get made fun of, and Roman was not in the mood for that today, no thank you.

He settled down on his bed, ‘forgetting’ about the homework that was glaring threateningly at him from his desk.

Roman ignored it.

Roman spent the rest of his free time scrolling through Instagram and YouTube.

And then it was time to go.

Roman settled into the lobby seat, earlier than he had planned. The lobby was silent, and felt awkward with no background noise. He was used to buzzing, the wind, birds chirping, literally any noise, but in here? Nothing.

He wasn’t very comfortable.

Minutes went by as Roman sat, waiting for the others. He knew he shouldn’t have come so early, curse his anxieties over coming in late. He was currently in a very heated stare-off with the carpeted floor as of now. Just waiting.

After what felt like hours, Virgil entered the room in all of his emo glory. He looked surprised at not being the only person to arrive obnoxiously early.

“Oh, uh, hey. Roman, right?” Virgil muttered, walking to the front desk to sign in. Quick, Roman, act normal!

“The one and only,” Roman said, with a grin that felt as fake as the Kardashian’s “drama”. And it appeared Roman was a good actor, since Virgil didn’t react at all other than a scoff. Jesus, the voice in his head said. No wonder he doesn’t want to talk to you, you’re so boring. Roman grinned at Virgil, attempting to seem more… well, positive, but Virgil didn’t seem to notice him. Or he’s just ignoring you.

The receptionist grinned at Virgil once he was done. “You should go sit by Roman and talk!” She said, apparently oblivious to the anxiety radiating between the two. Virgil spluttered for a few seconds before walking towards Roman and sitting down. Both of them were silent for a few seconds, both trying to think of something to say.

“So, what’d you think of your first day?” Roman asked, just barely hiding the stress he was feeling. Acting really was the only thing he was good at, and despite how much his parents shunned it, it was useful in situations like this. Situations he faced every day, really.

“I don’t know, I guess it was fine.” Virgil said. “Nothing really happened, y’know?”

Nothing . He hated that word.

“Eh, you’re right. Still, rec was fun, yeah?”

“Rec?” Was all Virgil said, staring at him in confusion. Oh, right.

“Rec is, well, just what we say to shorten the whole recreational therapy thing. Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re new!” Goddamn it, Roman! You’re such an idiot . “I guess you just… fit right in, yeah?”

“Fit right in with the mentally unstable. Great,” Virgil deadpanned, causing Roman to snort.

“I mean, I suppose you could say it like that.” He said between quiet giggles. He hadn’t expected that answer. Virgil gave a small smile in return, clearly feeling at least a bit awkward. Oops.

“Well, today’s gonna be way different,” Roman started, with a smirk. “‘Cause you’ll have to actually join us in the cafeteria this time.” As he said that, Virgil’s smile slipped and he groaned, practically shoving his face into his palms. Roman laughed. “Me too, man.”

“Really? Would’ve pegged you for the type to be ecstatic about being around others.” Virgil stated, turning in his seat to face Roman a bit more. Roman shrugged in response.

“I mean, kinda? There’s pros and cons to it, y’know? And-” Roman cut himself off before he could continue. Stupid Roman, you don’t just rant all your problems out to an innocent stranger. He shook his head. “Eh, nevermind, I dunno where I was going with that”

Virgil looked slightly concerned, but didn’t comment on it. Roman slapped another cheery grin on his face before continuing. “So, what’d’ya think of the others?”

“Well… one seemed nice, Patton, if I remember correctly. I don’t know about Logan though… No offense to him or anything!”

“Logan’s pretty nice from my experience. I may not have spoken to him long, only a couple days, but those days were pretty chill. I guess something happened? Maybe it was so many new people or something?” Roman started tapping his foot on the ground, and fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. He didn’t want to insult Logan, but his behavior yesterday was pretty aggressive.

Virgil started chewing on his hoodie strings, which only slightly muffled his voice when he answered. “I guess. I’ll just… go with the flow. I don’t… want to get myself into something I can’t get out of, y’know? I’ve had enough of that in my life.”

“I don’t think I’m following here…”

“Oh! Um, I didn’t really… uh mean to say that out loud…? Heh, sorry… just not really… um, open to talk about that?” Virgil stammered out, shrinking into his hoodie.

“Heyheyhey, no need to worry about it! I’m not gonna pressure you into something you don’t wanna talk about. After all, this is therapy, we’re gonna go through worse. Probably.” Roman quickly responded in a panicked state. Virgil buried his face in his hands once more, muttering “don’t remind me we’re in therapy”. Roman smiled. He didn’t want to call it too soon, but… maybe he could make a friend?

After talking for about 10 minutes, everyone had arrived and Becca called them into the back. From here, it was a game of ‘try to get to the check-in room first’ to get into one of the two spinny chairs. Usually, Patton and Roman would get the chairs, as Logan would say, “There’s no use grabbing a revolving chair when we’re only going to be here for a few minutes.” But with the addition of Virgil to their daily group, Roman wanted to make sure he got one of those seats. They were the most comfortable, and they were fun! Both were a plus.

Arriving first in the room, he plopped down into a spinny chair, spinning himself around before grabbing a check-in sheet. Success!

Becca joined him in the room soon after, Virgil trailing behind her. After Becca handed Virgil a sheet and motioned for him to choose a seat, he sat in the swivel chair beside Roman.

Patton and Logan joined them soon after, having been walking slower while they talked. Patton didn’t look disappointed as he lost the title of Swivel Chair Holder, only smiled brighter as he grabbed a sheet and asked Logan to sit beside him.

Logan himself, however, looked at Virgil and winced, presumably because of his behavior the other day. Logan looked apprehensive, torn between sitting by Patton or apologizing to Virgil. But once Becca kneeled down to show Virgil what to fill out, Logan knew his chance was gone.

Well, that’s what Roman thought, anyway.

The room was silent other than the sound of pen on paper. Roman tapped his foot unconsciously as he thought.

See, at Sanders, they ask you to rate your anxiety, avoidance, and depression every day. But instead of using 0-5 or 0-10 they decided to use a 0-7 scale for who knows why.

So, what was his anxiety today? Roman bit the inside of his cheek as he thought. Maybe a 4? Or maybe a 5? Well, seeing as his anxiety was raising as he struggled to find an answer, he put down 5. As for avoidance and depression, 3 and 4 respectively.

Just a couple more questions down, and then he was free to doodle. It had become a ritual during his time here, despite not being here that long. Today’s piece of art was a doodle of a Prince. A crown, sash, and a dazzling grin, and he was done. He glanced up to see Virgil was the only one still filling out the sheet.

Well, he supposed he could add some more sparkles.

Once Virgil was done, Becca clapped her hands and asked for them to share. Patton went first, going through his emotion, his anxiety, avoidance + depression, and other questions. Logan was next, doing the same but refusing to share his emotion. Then it was Roman’s turn, and he sped through it as quick as possible, not wanting to concern any of the others.

On Virgil’s turn, he went quiet and stuttered numerous times throughout the reading. He was reluctant to speak about the bottom four questions, specifically. Well, kinda. There were the two questions of ‘since yesterday have you had thoughts of harming others/have you actually done it’. There was also the ‘have you had thoughts of harming yourself/done it’. Quietly, Virgil asked not to share, and Becca agreed, though looking thoroughly disappointed.

Pulling out his binder and a pen with an excessive plume, Roman sat down at the middle table. Patton and Logan sat near him, while Virgil took a seat at a corner table, Becca joining him soon after to brief him on the ins and outs. Keep in mind, there were only three tables, so the options were at a minimum.

Shocked back into reality by someone sitting next to him, he turned to see the other therapist, Charlie, seated at his right.

“Hello, Roman! You finished your introduction exposure yesterday, right?” She asked. And she was right, yesterday had been spent introducing himself to the various staff around the building, and at the extreme lack of such, had to introduce himself to some of them twice . At Roman’s nod, she continued.

“So, today we’ll set you up with a couple more exposures, based on what you’ve told us. So, here,” she started, pointing at the next unnamed category on the page. “The first exposure is to put a mark on your face. It has to be noticeable, too. Just use a pen for that one, you don’t need anything special. Then all you need to do is talk to people.”

Nodding, Roman scribbled it down on the page, telling himself he wouldn’t do that one until he absolutely had to.

“And the next one is just wearing jewelry. Anything like a necklace, bracelets, rings, will work fine. You won’t have to wear them the whole day, just do trials for about 30 seconds. If you don’t have anything to wear right now just bring some tomorrow and we’ll start then.”

Fuck. Now he had to.

“Uh, yeah I don’t have any… jewelry. So, for the first one, do I gotta like… do any specific thing, like a word or…?”

“Just a line will do.”

And with that, Roman got up to go to ask to go to the bathroom, only stopped by Charlie’s hand on his arm. He gave her a questioning look.

“I was just gonna go to the bathroom… to put the mark on my face. Is something wrong?” He asked. Charlie shook her head.

“Do it here. If you use the mirror, it will loosen some of the anxiety. The point of this is to combat the anxiety, full on. No avoiding.”

“But I like avoiding.” Roman mumbled to himself. He didn’t think anyone heard, but the quiet giggle from Patton proved otherwise. Charlie just gave him an encouraging smile.

Sitting back down, Roman picked up his pen, while Charlie walked to her computer. Roman stared at the pen as if he were about to make a life-changing decision.

Just put the pen on your face, it’s not that hard . Except it was hard, at least for him. God, he really was a failure if he couldn’t force himself to make a mark on his face.

It was oh-so-simple. A mark on the face. But all Roman could think of were the consequences. They could laugh at him, they could ignore it, and worst of all, they could point it out . Just the thought of people making assumptions or putting themselves in awkward situations just because they didn’t want to embarass him made him want to throw himself off a roof.

He could feel his hands shaking, and, looking down, the rest of him was shaking too. Calm down, he told himself. What was one of the coping methods he learned?

Name 5 things you can see. He glanced around. The table, the window, Patton, Virgil, and his binder. Okay.

4 things you can feel. His clothes, the chair. He could feel his hair flopping into his face, and suddenly another spark of anxiety ignited in his chest. Deep breathing, Roman. Deep breathing. He could feel his hands starting to shake again.

3 things you can hear. All he could hear was the tap of fingers against a keyboard, what else… He strained to hear, and found he could hear the cars on the highway, something his brain had apparently decided to discard. And the sound of the door opening, with Logan walking in to prove it.

What was next? 2 things you could smell. Okay, well, he couldn’t smell much. There was the smell of mint, but other than that he couldn’t smell anything. He found himself glancing around, anxiety increasing once more. And, yes! A whiff of perfume blew past his nose.

1 thing you can taste. Well, not much. Did the inside of this mouth count? Well, he supposed it had to, since he wasn’t about to go lick the wall.

Roman took another few moments to himself, distracting himself by tapping his foot against the floor.

He found himself in front of Nurse Vicki’s office, a pen mark on his face and the dread of what was to come. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and let himself in.

Vicki turned to him. “Hello, Roman,” she greeted. “What do you need?”

What was he supposed to say? Charlie told him he wasn’t supposed to mention the mark, and rather to just make small talk. He would rather have had a topic but he hadn’t taken those improv classes for nothing!

“How has your day been?” he said.

Welp. He had taken those improv classes for nothing.

Vicki explained that she was doing well, she had gone to her sister’s house after group yesterday, so she was happy about that. She didn’t mention the mark.

Thank god .

He cycled through a couple other staff, anxiety slowly loosening its grip as he progressed. And no one had pointed out the mark! When he looked at his sheet after his sixth trial, he noticed his anxiety had went from a 6 to a 4, and he was feeling proud of himself as he walked into the hallway once more.

He spotted Virgil down the hall, fiddling with the timer in his hands. Roman strutted towards him, intending to make Virgil his seventh trial of the mark exposure.

“Hey, Virgil, you busy?” he asked. Virgil shook his head. “Aight, cool. How’re exposure’s going so far?”

“I don’t like them.” Came his response. Roman laughed, replying with, “No one likes them.”

“All I’ve been doing is introducing myself but… I introduced myself to all the staff and I still have 4 trials to go before I’m finished and, honestly-” Virgil ran a hand through his hair, voice strained. “I don’t know what to do and I’ll feel awkward asking Becca what I’m supposed to do now… Sorry for ranting…” He finished.

Roman smiled. “I just finished that exposure yesterday, and Charlie, er, the other therapist, told me we can introduce ourselves to the same staff twice.” Virgil wrinkled his nose at this, frowning slightly.

“If I’m being honest, that’s even worse.” Virgil started fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. He seemed apprehensive about something, whatever it was Roman had no clue.

“Uh, also… you have a mark on your face. Uh, just figured I’d tell you, sorry”

And with that, Roman felt his anxiety get to a 7 faster than soda out of a newly opened can. “Heh, yeah. I mean, uh- thanks, Virgil. I’ll fix it when I can. Um, gotta go now, so, see ya!” He called as he powerwalked his way back to the cafeteria. He could barely hear anything as he sat down in his seat, staring out the window across from him. Oh, god. Someone had noticed. Someone had noticed and now he was going to laugh at him behind his back. He was going to tell Patton, and Logan, just how stupid Roman was. Roman stopped breathing for a few moments, trying to calm himself down.

Virgil wouldn’t do that, he was just trying to be helpful. And Roman had run away from him, oh god , he was probably confused and Roman had not helped the situation. He supposed he would have to apologize later, he was too frazzled now. He wanted so bad to wipe the mark off his face, but he knew Charlie and Becca would be disappointed in him if he did.

5 minutes later, he felt much calmer, his breathing normal, and his chest felt less compressed. His anxiety had come to a 3, so he stopped the timer at 6 minutes and 24 seconds. He scribbled down the results as Virgil came back into the room, seemingly just out of an exposure, so Roman gave him a smile in lieu of an apology, not allowed to talk to someone while they were in the middle of an exposure.

Roman decided he would apologize at rec.

Roman never got to apologize. Today’s rec was a hands-on activity that left him with no time to talk to Virgil. And just after rec, he saw Logan talking with him, and since he didn’t want to stay there too long, Roman decided he would just get in the elevator.

His mind told him he should take the stairs, else he would just gain more weight.

Once he got down, he took some time to shuffle through his binder, he had a weird feeling that he left something, and-

The elevator dinged, and the door opened as Virgil, Logan, Patton, and their parents shuffled out. Patton tugged on his mom’s shirt, telling her to stop for a moment. He practically bounced up to Roman, a grin on his face.

“Roman! I’m glad I caught you. I got Virgil and Logan’s phone numbers, and I was wondering if I could have yours? No pressure, of course! But it’d be nice if we were in touch outside of therapy. And I can give you the other’s numbers so we’re ALL in touch!” Patton extended his phone to Roman, the latter of which taking it and inputting his number. Maybe this could work out after all?

[ Hey, this is Roman and I sure as hell hope this is Virgil.]

| yea its virgil |

[ Oh thank god. Just wanted to say sorry for running off on you earlier, wouldve said it after rec but i saw you talking with Logan and didnt want to intrude. ]

| don’t worry about it, it’s fine. |

| what’s not fine is you sending that right as i walk into my house |

| i nearly faceplanted the ground cause of you |

[ And i oop- ]

| did |

| please tell me that was ironic |

| i might have a stroke if it wasn’t |

[ Youll never know ;) ]

| oh my god |

| i just |

| i can’t |

| have a good night Roman |

[ Right back at you, buckaroo ]

| oh my god |

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writerofmanyfandoms · 5 years

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Insecurities

Summary: Requested!Han SoloxPlusSized!Reader! Set a little after Solo. The newest addition to the Han-Chewie team, Han somehow manages to wrangle you in to accompany him on a mission. Will things actually run as smoothly as everyone hopes? Probably not, but you have grown accustomed to things not working out exactly the way you would like.

Pairing: Han Solo x Reader

Word Count: 1870

Warnings: being insecure, language, suggestive at times, extra fluffy at the end

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Hope all is well! I have come down with a bitch of a sinus infection, but I wanted to make sure I could put a story out! I may be getting a new laptop or even a desktop soon, so let’s cross our fingers! I have never written a Plus Sized Reader before, so I hope this is good! I am plus sized myself, and I always enjoy reading Plus Sized reader inserts. Hopefully, I can do more of these in the future! Everyone deserves to feel included.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or the characters. Also, I do not own this GIF, found on GIPHY

You stared at your reflection for what seemed like hours. Somedays you felt so confident and loved every article of clothing you were. Other days it felt as if your clothes were too tight and you couldn’t stretch them enough. Unfortunately, today was one of those bad days. In the back of your mind, you knew you were gorgeous, as conceited as that sounded. You had curves and some extra body, sure, but it didn’t make you ugly.

Finally settling into a black flowy dress, you quickly pulled your hair up into a formal bun. As if on cue, you saw Han appear in the mirror behind you.

“About time, Y/N. I always end up waiting on you. You take forever.” He teased, looking at you. He couldn’t help but admire you, his eyes lingering far longer than they should have, which made you feel a bit self-conscious. Normally his glance would have been appreciative, as you normally had the ability to at least act confidence.

You were sure that Han still seemed unaware of your feelings, and if he had known he surely wasn’t bringing it up. Although, you were rather oblivious to his feelings. Ever since you first healed him and Chewie, he had been smitten. He acted as if he didn’t want you to travel along with him, and tried to act as if he was doing you a favor when he ‘finally’ caved.

“Well I am ready, so let’s go.” You said, although a bit too short which caused him to raise his eyebrows.

“Alrighty, someone woke up in a bad mood. Let me just remind you. As soon as we get off the ship, Chewie is going to park this somewhere hidden. We are going to find out as much information as we can on where the Imperial Captain keeps the fuel. I need to deliver that to a potential buyer. As soon as we get out, we will radio Chewie and meet back up with him.” Han told you, as the two of you began to exit.

You didn’t feel comfortable helping him smuggle, but when he asked for your help you practically melted. It hadn’t taken very long for the two of you to open up, which was surprising, especially after he told you about what he had recently been through. Deep in your mind, you wished you didn’t like Han the way you did. Guys like him didn’t want girls like you. You knew that almost better than anyone. You saw the way his eyes would look at those thin, tall, gorgeous women. If it wasn’t so expected. It probably would have hurt your feelings.

Being this deep in thought was never good for you. On your more insecure days, you tended to stay by yourself, but you couldn’t today. And it didn’t help that the top half of this dress was more fitted than you liked, but you were running out of time to change.

“You look really nice tonight,” Han said, his voice soft as the two of you approached the entrance, and he flashed the invites to the security guard.

“Oh shut up.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes as the guard waved you through. Despite wanting to believe him, you were scared that Han was only joking or even just saying that to trick you. You were no stranger to cruel jokes. When you were younger boys and girls would always pay you a compliment, only to run back to their group of friends and laugh it off.

Han could see it in your eyes that you didn’t really believe him. He wanted you to though because he truly meant it. He loved the way you looked, everything from the way your clothes fit your body, to the way your hair would fall down your back after taking it down. You were truly a magnificent sight, and he only wanted you to see it all of the time.

“Okay, so let’s split up. We will do some talking, try to find out whatever it is we can. We will meet up every twenty minutes or so to check on the progress. As soon as we find out what we need, we can get the hell out of here. Agree?” Han asked, you only nodding your head in approval.

The two of you drifted to other sides of the room, and you couldn’t think of how easy Han had it. All he had to do was flirt around with the pretty girls, and he could easily find out what he needed. Honestly, why would he even need you? You rolled your eyes at the thought. Of course, he could just flirt his way, who could blame him? He was definitely charming and good looking, and he could smooth talk any woman who wanted to hear his flattery.

Like clockwork, the two of you would meet up, but neither one of you had found out what you needed. It felt as if Han was so easy at this, you often would struggle at making small talk with large groups of strangers. Unlike Han, you were easy at blending in. You were used to people not noticing you, or forgetting you were around. It was exactly how you found out that he kept his fuel on Coruscant, in a little cantina that was owned by his brother. The ladies were gossiping about it, as you stood nearby.

All of a sudden music started playing, and everyone was pairing off. You couldn’t help but panic, dancing was definitely not your strong suit. You had thought you were in the clear until you felt a hand on your back and the familiar, yet very handsome face of Han Solo.

“Hey, hey Y/N. Not so fast, have this dance with me. Besides, we need to blend in and I am having no luck.” He said, pulling you in close and holding on to your hand.

As you wrapped an arm around him, you realized you didn’t want to tell him the information. Not yet. You knew it was stupid and silly, and probably not a good idea to hold on to it, but you wanted to enjoy this moment for a little while longer.

“Oh yeah? Me either. I figured you would, all of those girls look like they are ready to jump into bed with you.” You teased, faking a grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Just because I flirt with women does not mean I like them. I normally have an ulterior motive. I learned that sometimes it is the only way to get information or for them to lead me somewhere.” Han said, a bit too nonchalantly, and your eyes immediately stared down at your feet as the two of you danced. “But in all honesty, I do like someone. It’s you.” He admitted, surprised as you halted so suddenly.

“What the fuck Han? Is this some sort of sick joke? It isn’t funny.” You said, your voice low but definitely sounded angry.

“Wait, no? Why would I be joking?” Han asked, confusion plastered all over his face.

“Oh fuck off, don’t play dumb. You flirt with all of those women with smaller waists then me, who have the perfect body and can run around naked and no one would bat an eye. So don’t even try and play and act as if someone like me is your type.” You seethed, as you began to storm out. As soon as you got outside you took off running. It didn’t matter where you went, just as long as you were away from Han.

It didn’t take you very long to find a nice secluded park bench, and you quickly sat down. You definitely hated running, but all of the adrenaline you had made it seem a lot easier. It felt like forever until you felt a warm body near you, and you were too exhausted to argue.

“Y/N, why did you run off? And explode like that? Do you really think I am the type of guy to do something like that to you? Yeah, I can be a bit of an ass, but damn. I’m not cruel.” Han said, sitting down beside you.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head. You knew Han really wasn’t that way, it was just a part of your brain could not believe what he had been saying. You had been let down a lot in life, and you were just extremely guarded.

“Of course not. But you flirt with so many women, you never once have done that to me.” You said, kicking some gravel beneath your feet, thankful that you had opted for some comfortable flats.

Han couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes as he nudged you. “Of course I don’t do that to you. Why would I? I don’t flirt with those women because I like them. I do it because not only am I wonderful at it, but because I know some women respond well to my flattery. I knew you would never, and I liked you too much to want to flirt with you like that. I do flirt with you, Y/N, it just isn’t the way you are used to seeing. So you would have never expected it.”

“Okay then, well explain why you like me. Why me? Look at me. I have chub in all of the wrong spots, I can’t run a marathon, or flaunt around naked.” You said, but Han only shook his head.

“I mean, feel free to flaunt your naked body in front of me. I would definitely appreciate it.” He teased, smiling as you laughed and rolled your eyes. “See, that’s why. Because you don’t always see that you are beautiful. I know you can be confident, but I also know when you aren’t, and I want to help make you feel better. We all have insecurities. I don’t think you are fat, I think you are perfect. All sizes are beautiful, and I definitely do not discriminate. You also have the most wonderful smile, and every time you laugh it makes me happy. You are so many things, and I wish you could see those things all of the time.” Han said, leaning in close and cupping your face with his chin.

As soon as he finished talking, you couldn’t help but press your lips against his. Despite him wanting everyone to think he was some rough smuggler, he did have a soft heart. You wanted this moment to last forever, but unfortunately, the two of you pulled away.

“Come on, let’s get to the Falcon. I don’t want to hang around here too long. Plus it sucks that we couldn’t get that information.” Han said, hopping up, holding his hand out for you to take.

“About that, I actually did. It is at his brother’s night club. I just wanted to dance with you.” You said with a grin, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Y/N! You are the best.” Han said, giving you such a deep kiss that you could feel your insecurities melt away. Maybe some things do work out well after all.

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austenpoppy · 5 years

Text

Slughorn needs to hear this one day

I don’t hate him. Nope. Generally I even like him, and look at him like an old uncle with an odd behaviour.

But there are moments all I want to do is slap him really hard. And yell at him like a mad woman.

I mean, of course I can be angry with other characters, even characters I absolutely love. Because they are human beings and so are flawed and make mistakes. Nothing more normal.

But him, he really gets on my nerves !

Yes, I speak of you, Horace Slughorn. Nobody really dislikes you, right ? They all look at you fondly, kindly. Nobody says how much you were wrong. Nobody says how much your little elitist club was despicable.

Some even don't realise it.

That is right, a good slap on your chubby cheek would be fine with me. Then I could eventually forgive you.

Because Dumbledore saying you have a natural talent at finding exceptionnal people, people with someting special, makes me want to tear something apart.

Because people finding you are a good judge on these matters makes me believe there is no justice down there.

Because your behaviour towards students like Marcus Belby, whom you invited to the first reunion of your club because his uncle was famous and extremely clever, but rejected once you realized he had no connections with this member of of his family, once you judged him as uninteresting because of his manners and his shyness, makes me want to scowl you forever.

He had probably great qualities, but you dismissed him, you judged him not good enough for your club, so you’ll never know them.

You even tried to forget him after your conversation with him, making pass a snack to all your guests except him.

You spoke to him with a tone of false politeness full of scorn and disdain.

You turned your head.

And you probably never looked at him again.

He would maybe have blossomed if you had encouraged him enough, if you had taken the time to make him grow and improve, if you had taken the time to really look at him.

Which means, if you had done your job seriously.

You are a Potions Master, but a teacher is sometimes more like a gardener. A gardener who plants a seed in the ground, waters it, takes care of it, looks at it grow and turn into a beautiful flower. However, this flower is fragile, and a tempest, winter, or even a simple gust of wind can reduce it to ashes.

The way you turned your head this day was like a gust of wind, the way you treated him with disdain and indifference and even ignored him was like winter’s arrival, the way you humiliated him a tempest.

You’re wrong, though, Horace, if you think that it’s more important, rewarding and relevant to look after the students you find interesting.

Because each student is interesting. You may have preferences, of course, it’s not something you can help, but showing them so blatantly and ignoring totally the other students, who can have something to bring, something to exchange, something to make shine, is an awful mistake.

Moreover, if you believed your judgement unerring, you were greatly mistaken.

You know what ?

One of your favorites, Cormac MacLaggen, whom you liked because his family spent week-ends hunting Nogtails with the Prime Minister, is, though brave, arrogant, presomptuous, so conceited it is sickening, and spent an entire evening talking about himself to Hermione Granger, and visibly harassed her so much, trying to make her kiss him, that she fled away from him. What a wonderful boy !

Of course he had qualities, but you overestimated him. He’s not the future Prime Minister, or else he really has to change.

You have such a great understanding of people, such a great judgement, Horace, that’s really impressive. I’m awed.

Hang on a second, what does this mean, “even the greatest spirits can be misled.” ? You really thought that your false opinion of Cormac was your only mistake this year ?

(Yes, we’re only speaking about this year, when you were Harry’s teacher, because we’re not going to talk about Tom Jedusor, I promise you; I don't hold a grudge against you because you let yourself being dazzled by his charm and wits; this boy was one of the biggest manipulators who ever existed, the spark of evil, the shadow of the hell, Satan’s laugh, and a lot of people felt into his golden but bloody traps.)

Let me laugh.

Your precious little Harry, whom I love by the way, your little prodigy, was not the creator of all those inventions you were praising. He was - almost - cheating (yeah, I know, that was not really cheating) with a manual with scribbled notes written by another pupil years ago on it.

You know who this pupil was ? Severus Snape. You were wrong, Harry was not better than Snape at potions. (Following a very true comment, to be fair with Slughorn, he did know Snape was very good, it is just I think he did not realise how much).

You know how Harry got your worst memory ? He drank the Felix Felicis you had given him. But you know who suggested the idea ? Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley. Ronald Bilius Weasley. Ron Weasley.

I repeat his name because apparently you had some problem with it.

Because yes, we arrive at the moment you deserve your slap on your face. So you did not think he was worth remembering his name ? You looked at him as if he was “nothing more than a shed of Doxies” ? You wondered why the genius Hermione Granger and the Boy-who-lived befriended a “mediocre pupil with average skills” -that’s not what you said but you thought it didn’t you ?- ? You didn’t indulge him ? You let him out of your stupid club because you thought he was not good enough ? You invited nearly all the people he was closed to -his two best friends, his sister- except him, letting him behind (oh, you left someone like Luna behind too by the way. What a mistake) ?

(By the way, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, why have you not refused clearly his invitations when your dearest friend and brother was so humiliated by this teacher ? Oh, that’s right, Harry, the memory. But Hermione ? Ginny ? Why have you not tried to tell Ron he did not deserve all this contempt ? I would have thought that you, of all people…)

Screw you, Horace Slughorn. Despite all your contempt, despite all the people believing he was average and even mediocre, despite his own very low self-esteem, he became one of the most wonderful persons you could have ever met. He became a wonderful Auror.

You were really deluding yourself. He has always, and will always, been a far greater man than you.

When you have met him, he had, at the age of twelve, led and won a fantastic chess match qualified by Dumbledore as “the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years”, in which he had sacrificed himself and got knocked out by a chess piece in order to reach his goal : allow his friends carrying on with the battle.

When you have met him, he had, at the age of thirteen, followed a troop of spiders in the dark Forbidden Forest, to find a clue about what was happening in Hogwarts and save petrified pupils, especially his dear Hermione, and met Acromentulas, although he is arachnophobic ! Spiders were his worst fear at that time, but he did not hesitate.

When you have met him, he had found where was the Chamber of Secrets and how to open it.

When you have met him, he had shoved Harry out of the way of a furious dog and got bitten in his place.

When you have met him, he had stood on a broken leg to tell firmly somebody everyone thought was a mass murderer, somebody he had seen months before with a knive above his bed, that if he wanted to kill his best friend, he would have to kill him too.

And, during a fight, had jumped with his broken leg on this person you knew (yes, Sirius Black) to get their wands he had taken.

And then, always with this broken leg, had wanted to be one of the people chained to the real mass murderer, who was his former rat, to get him to the castle.

When you have met him, he had been part of the battle of the Department of Mysteries, following Harry without questions. He had to fight three Death Eaters on his own, and got hit with a dangerous spell that led him to be scarred for life by a brain.

When you have met him, he was already this self-sacrificing, selfless, brave, kind-hearted, compassionate, clever, witty as hell, extremely funny and loyal to a fault guy you never saw but without whom Harry and Hermione were incapable to live or even function.

Their heart, Horace, you missed the heart of this little trio.

And after, Horace ? After that ?

I won't tell you everything, use your web of personalities to get a little information !

But you know what ?

This guy, Horace, disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange.

This guy, Horace, defied Voldemort and broke a spell you-know-who had done.

This guy, Horace, hit Death Eaters from a broom.

This guy, Horace, dropped everything to go on a horcruxe hunt.

Yes, Horcruxes. You heard me.

The very Horcruxes you were so afraid of.

And he wore around his neck a part of the soul of Voldemort after he nearly died, after a massive blood loss, for months, with Harry and Hermione.

And because he wears his heart on his sleeve, because his heart is so open, because he thinks he is nothing, he went through mental torture for months.

And even got possessed, got manipulated by Voldemort, but never broke. He got rid of it.

And you know what else he did?

He begged Bellatrix Lestrange to torture him instead of the girl he loves. Don’t tell me he was unaware of what she had done, he had seen it with his very eyes and had been utterly moved. Yet he was ready to go through that for Hermione, was ready to suffer beyond the believable, was ready to become insane.

He wanted to go kill Nagini, Voldemort’s snake if you did not know it, alone, despite the known presence of Voldemort.

He found how to get rid of one of the last Horcruxes, and opened the Chamber of Secrets without even speaking Parseltongue.

He had not planned to go through the war.

You know what is the worst ? What you thought was maybe exactly what the Horcruxe tortured him with.

I like you, Horace, but you really deserve some slaps.

#anti ron hate #anti ron bashing #horace slughorn #hp #ron weasley

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twodaysintojune · 5 years

Text

At the Edge of Change

Supernatural, Casbriel, Warnings - Fluff Second part of At the Edge of Time

Long Story Masterlist, One Shot Masterlist

Find me at AO3

“I want to be a lawyer.”

Gabriel and Castiel looked at the nephil like he had grown another head.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I… I want to be a lawyer. I have been travelling throughout the world for years now and I have done as much good as I can killing monsters but there’s so much we could do to improve the lives of every human being in the world if we helped rewrite the laws they work with… I just have to give it a try.”

“Jack, we’re celestial beings, we shouldn’t interfere with the human world that way.”

“No uncle Gabriel, you are celestial beings. But I am half a celestial being. Don’t you get it? The only reason I had stayed on the side killing monsters was because they were supernatural beings like I am. But I had been looking at it the other way around and I’ve realized that I have to work as a human too.”

Castiel thought with fondness how Jack’s smile was still as bright as it had been when he had first met him. He was surprised at how he had been able to keep that core belief in humankind’s goodness, just as much as Sam had once.

“Well then, you’d better find out how to get some fake papers. Nobody’s gonna believe you’re over sixty years old.”

Gabriel turned to Castiel with a shocked look while Jack beamed at him.

“Are you kidding me!? He’s the most powerful being in the world, can create whatever he wants from scratch, even angels, and you’re gonna let him throw himself at the eternally mundane and boring doom of a career in Law?”

“Jack is right Gabriel, he has to live as a human if he wants to understand how they work and how to help them best. The life of a hunter is a kind of way to live as a human but it’s not the norm. Millions of people walk around the earth never encountering themselves with an ounce of weird.”

Gabriel was stunned, he motioned to answer back but whatever it was he wanted to convey against the idea he realized that neither Castiel or Jack were going to be convinced by his points. He finally groaned and threw his hands.

“Whatever, do what you want. If your dad says you can then who am I to stop it.”

Jack looked at him for a second and turned serious.

“Uncle Gabriel, you are part of my family, of course I care about what you think.”

Gabriel looked at Jack stunned before flushing and looking aside.

“W...well I think it’s stupid but if you really want to I guess it’s ok…”

Gabriel approached Jack and placed his hands over his shoulders, he sighed a bit sad.

“And I know that your father would have been proud.”

Jack’s eyes trembled for a second before he smiled widely.

“But I’ll only be completely okay with it as long as you apply to Stanford.”

Castiel sniffed a bit. When he felt like he couldn’t love Gabriel more, he proved him that there was always something else that made him the best in the world. They bid Jack goodbye and asked him to contact them in case he needed anything. Gabriel had proposed to just snap his fingers to provide Jack with his papers and a bank account but he had said he could do it. Still Gabriel kept counting the days until the nephil gave in and called them for something. There was so much to deal with when it came to setting his existence as a normal human being in order. Birth records, school documents, bank histories. Gabriel’s head was hurting just by thinking of all of that but to his surprise the only moment they received a call was when Jack had received the date of his entrance exam. Maybe he was still seeing Jack as a child.

The next day, Jack appeared at the throne room with two boxes literally filled with books. The highschool papers he had were forged so he had not had to study up until that point. It was quite a funny sight to look at Gabriel and Castiel sitting on the floor writing down notes on some heavenly issues while their son hoarded the desk. Right now he was being schooled on History by Zepheruel.

“Okay but why I cannot write down what really happened to Cleopatra then?”

“You have to understand Jack, that we know what really happened because we were there to watch. That has always been our job. But humans do not have this insight. They have to look at the vestiges of the past and make conjectures on what really happened. Which is why you have to remember what’s on the book and work with that, otherwise you’ll get bad grades because you did not adhere to the knowledge they hold.”

“Even when that knowledge is wrong?”

“In History, there’s nothing much you can do unless you’re able to bring evidence of an event unfurling in a different way.”

“Very much like a trial.” Chimed in Gabriel, who was leaning against the couch, legs sprawled in front of him and a couple of notes scattered around him.

Poor Jack was having the worst of headaches with that. Fortunately for him, Math had been completely straightforward and he had loved that. You simply had to follow the formula to get the right answer. Castiel helped him when he got stuck at Literature and, to everyone’s shock, Gabriel pretty much gave him a master class on Physics and Chemistry.

“How are you able to demonstrate how each law works so well?” Asked Castiel awed at his partner. For him, and probably for all the other angels, the laws of movement were an inherent knowledge. They worked with them on instinct so it was extremely hard to explain them to anyone.

The rest of the angels were just as awed as Castiel, Gabriel had started his lecture only with Jack and Castiel as attendants but eventually more angels arrived with other errands in mind but ultimately stayed due to the simple fact that they were witnessing an archangel imparting the understandings of god’s laws.

Gabriel snickered at Castiel. “Probably one of the few perks of arriving early to the party.” He winked playfully at him.

“Neither Michael or Raphael ever bothered to explain us any of that...” Said Haruel still impressed by all that had been taught.

“Yeah, that might not have been really high on their priorities.” Gabriel sighed and then looked at everyone. “Alright people, that’s it for today! Jack needs to rest to absorb everything he has learned so far. If you need anything with me I’ll be back in six hours.”

With the makeshift class dispersed, Gabriel and Castiel helped Jack order his notes and sent him to his room. Once he was settled there Castiel sighed and walked towards their room, knowing perfectly well that those six hours Gabriel had imparted were meant to be shared only with each other.

“I really can’t believe that Jack is going to Stanford.”

“As long as he passes the exam that is.” Smirked Gabriel, following lightly Castiel’s path.

A month passed and Jack presented his exam. He was extremely nervous. That day they all sat at a diner near the University when it all finished. Poor Jack looking just as spent as the day he had gone reckless and decided to create twenty angels at the same time.

He rambled on about the questions and the time he had been given for each of them and how he had totally forgotten everything about over half of the American presidents because he never really thought that it would be important to know about them even when they were on American land. Gabriel laughed heartily at this “Yeah, they get conceited like that.” was all he said about it.

Later on that day, they left Jack at the bunker after reassuring him he had done great and that he was bound to pass the exam. He deserved to lay on the bed and either fall asleep or binge watch the fairly new Dune series he hadn’t been able to catch up on while Castiel and Gabriel went back to Heaven. He had promised to call them once he received an answer.

Once both angels were back in Heaven, Castiel moved purposefully to their room. He wanted to relish the time they had spent together and going back to heavenly chores was not the best way to make that happen. When he opened the door, he couldn't help but smile joyfully surprised. Up until yesterday their room had been a very minimalistic concrete and burnished metal design that Castiel loved that opened up to a Japanese interior garden. Now, the door gave on to a bed of tropical foliage opening to a calm beach with soft pale white sand surrounded by hard rocks. Their bed falling close to the shore framed with a palm roof and light curtains flowing lightly with the wind. Castiel smiled widely.

“Tulum?”

“I know you liked it.” Whispered Gabriel fondly on his ear placing his hand over his waist and brushing a soft peck on his neck. “Go on, take off your shoes.”

Castiel didn’t need more prodding to comply, he kneeled to unlace his shoes while Gabriel did the same with his boots. Once shoe free, they took off all their layers until only a shirt and jeans were on. Gabriel was proud of the fact that he had managed to place Castiel into dark denim and sexy tight henleys after so many years, even the old beige overcoat had eventually been replaced by a soft and sexy leather jacket. The rest of their stuff was abandoned over a rock near the entrance. It wasn’t like there would be anyone near to steal them.

The sand was cold where shadows hit and really hot where sun landed but the way each grain of sand glided through the fingers of his feet was more than welcome after five months of constant work.

“Tell you what, once Jack passes his exam we should take him out on a trip. Do you know of any place where he wants to go?”

“I haven’t asked him lately but I’ll do. I’d rather take him somewhere we both like though...”

They reached the tropical canopy bed and threw themselves over the plush pillows. Gabriel leaned close to Castiel to hug him while Castiel placed an arm behind his head and surrounded him with the other. Both angels sighed. They stayed caressing each other, each of them musing their own thoughts.

“You know Cas… Things have been going pretty smooth up here for a while.”

“That is because you are extremely good at managing Heaven despite complaining all the time and Jack’s aid in providing new angels has been invaluable.”

Gabriel huffed, Castiel knew he hated it when he was acknowledged as leader. Even after all these years some of the older angels still slipped off the “Yes, Sir!” his brother Michael forged in them for centuries when he was being particularly serious about something and it irked him a lot.

“Yeah whatever, that’s not the point.”

Castiel turned to look at him. Gabriel took in some air.

“The point is… Maybe we could let the rest of the guys deal with the daily ropes and just catch up if there was something really odd needing attention while we do our own stuff.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, you know… Get back downstairs, live a little… maybe put up a store of some sort.”

“A store?”

“I was thinking a bakery. Or probably a café. A café with freshly baked goods. Someplace where you could go at any hour and feel revived.”

“That would require the best coffee and the best pastries... maybe some pie.”

“Yes! The best pecan pie.”

Castiel held Gabriel closer while kissing his forehead.

“And where would we put that store?”

“Oh I dunno, somewhere crowded with lots of people.”

Castiel suddenly realized what Gabriel was truly trying to say.

“Crowded like a University?”

“Exactly! A University. With lots of students.”

“Someplace like Stanford.”

“Yeah, I mean we’d have to look around but Stanford could be good.”

Castiel smiled widely now while Gabriel shrugged like he had not been thinking about that for the longest time.

“I think I would like that.”

Gabriel turned to look at him beaming.

“What would we call the place?”

“Not something trite.”

“Oh… Guess I’ll have to cross ‘A Slice of Heaven’ out from the list.”

#Casbriel #Cabriel #Castiel #Gabriel #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic

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floralseokjin · 6 years

Text

An unorthodox end to the office’s Christmas party…

pairing | kim seokjin x reader x park jimin genre/warnings | devil! Seokjin, devil! Jimin, smut, threesome, dirty talk words | 8,275

Read the rest of The Devil Wears Armani series here.

The office Christmas party is always mind numbingly boring. You’ve been at the same place for four years now, and each time the festive celebration seems to get worse. It’s fake, all of it. Coworkers pretending to like each other, wishing each other a Merry Christmas with fake ass grins spread across their face. No one wanting Susan to be their Secret Santa because she has just gotten that promotion that about five others had wanted too. Everyone giving Youngseok the silent treatment because it has recently come to light he’s cheated on his wife with the secretary. Said secretary who can’t make it tonight because she’s on a date with her new boyfriend…

This place is a mess, and you’re no exception. Currently trying to avoid Brian the copy guy as you speak. It was a moment of madness when you’d found yourself in a bathroom stall fucking him after hours. It isn’t like he’s displeasing to the eye, nor is he a total dick, but…the sex just wasn’t good. Call you shallow, whatever, but you know who is to blame for this…

The devil. You don’t even know is name. Come to think of it, does he even have one? You didn’t know the entities existed until that fateful halloween night. The night that still gets you all hot and bothered when you remember back. You’d almost convinced yourself it was a dream—a very vivid one at that, but then you’d hooked up with Brian, and his words had come back to haunt you.

Every time until forever, when you get fucked by another man, you’ll wish it was me.

It was true. You’re cursed. Before the devil, the sex with Brian would have been perfectly adequate, but now… You just couldn’t stop imaging that Halloween night; how good you had been pleasured and how entirely overcome you had been. You had lost yourself completely, and like even more of a curse, it seems you’ve become totally desirable to the opposite sex now… That’s how you managed to hook up with the copy boy so easily. So long without any dick, one visit from the devil and now here you are, catching the eyes of multiple men a week. However, after Brian, now you’re too scared to get dicked down by anyone else…

Which is why you’re freaking out right about now as you notice a guy staring at you from across the room. His face is unfamiliar, which isn’t too weird, sometimes colleagues bring guests, sometimes people from other departments come—whether it be in the same building or one in the next city… What is weird, or actually, not weird in the slightest, more like unnerving, is that the man is extremely good looking. More than good looking, beautiful, stunning…and no matter how hard you try you can’t seem to look away either.

You’re panicked when you see him walk over, but before you can think to mingle in with the crowd, he’s in front of you.

“Hi, I’m Jimin.” He introduces himself, a smile on his face, but there’s something off about it, a glint in his eyes, the friendly motion turning into somewhat of a smirk. He’s cute, a round face, but with a sculpted jawline, short, but with the aura of something more powerful. That seems to be him all over as you begin to talk. A walking, talking contradiction. He knows he’s good looking, you can tell so by the way he carries himself off. Normally that would be an immediate turn off, but he seems into you, and against better judgment you find yourself falling for it.

You’re excited almost; this is the first man you’ve felt this way about since that night with the devil… Maybe what he said wasn’t true, maybe you won’t crave him for the rest of your life? Maybe you just needed to find the right human with the right amount of sex appeal… Jimin is this guy. You can sense it, or at least you think you do. You’ll take your chances. Of course he’s a stranger to you, he tells you he works in the sister office across the next town…you have no reason to not believe him… And like you said, ever since Halloween, you seem to be catching the eye of every man who looks your way…

Jimin is promising. Your experiment. By looking at him you can tell he’ll know how to pleasure you. You want to prove that stranger wrong. Regardless of if you’ll ever see him again… You want to know that every time you have sex, you won’t think back to that night…you won’t think back to the devil who’s been plaguing your dreams ever since…

That’s how you find yourself back at home with the sexy office boy, locking lips like there’s no tomorrow. He moves like water, silky and fluid, hips snaking against yours as you show him the way to your bedroom, breaths tangled together as his tongue dominates your mouth and it’s not long before you have to pull away, panting a little as you push the door to your room open.

“Are you okay?” He asks, a teasing smirk toying at one side of his mouth.

He’s dangerous, wicked, and most importantly, incredibly hot, and he’s moving towards your bed right now, as if he owns the place, perching atop the bouncy mattress.

“Yeah,” you nod, desperate to come to. “Yes, I just need a moment.”

You don’t understand why you’re so affected. It’s a foreign concept. You haven’t felt like this since the night of Halloween—although it’s just a fraction of that, making you wonder how you even survived at all. Tonight is promising though, it shows you that there’s hope. That you won’t be craving a demonic creature all your life… Hopefully…

“I have all night, it’s fine,” he tells you, leaning back on his hands as he watches you inch towards him.

He’s dressed neat, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned near the neck, black pants tight against his thighs and crotch and you can’t help but ogle the bulge confined in the compact area, your belly doing somersaults, anticipation rattling you. Even more so when he begins to slip out of the shirt, fingers gliding over the buttons, and you’re mesmerised. His body isn’t real. It can’t be. Abs carved by angels you’d guess by the look of his cherub face, but his wicked grin suggests otherwise…

“You like what you see,” he muses.

He’s a little bit too cocky for your liking, but you don’t mind, not when your minutes away from getting laid. You stop before him, nerves filling you for a moment, which is stupid because it’s your bedroom, it’s your bed, but he takes your hands and pulls you to him, squashing you between his thick thighs.

“Lay back,” he tells you, tugging you and you land on the bed with a soft bump. He’s hovering over you before you can take a breath, mouth on yours, wet, plush and greedy.

You chase the feeling he gives you, letting him take you because you need this. You need to know you’re not going crazy. His mouth falls to your neck, kissing and licking, even nipping at the flesh as his hands fight with your shirt buttons, partly revealing the lace bra you wear underneath the chiffon material. He works with expertise, seeming to know where to kiss, where to make you feel good, moving to kiss the tops of your breasts, your chest heaving as you lay sprawled out under him, watching in awe.

“I like what I see, too,” he breathes, one hand softly cupping the underside of one of your breasts, fingertips gliding over the nipple, hard under its confines.

You need him to strip you, get you naked so he can pleasure you, fuck you—do whatever he wants. He moves too slow, almost as if he’s teasing, wanting to drag every bit of your pleasure out until you’re begging him.

“You’re hot, shaking,” he murmurs, fingertips grazing your sides, sliding under the shirt, making goosebumps bubble at the surface. You’re whining, squirming under him, confused as to why you seem to be so impatient—confused as to why you’re so affected. He’s only kissing you, but even so, you gasp when you feel his hot mouth at one of your covered buds, sucking the nipple into his mouth, soaking the black lace. Your back arches and you grip into his hair, holding him to you, wanting more pleasure.

He looks up at you, eyes black, and for a moment you shudder, reminded of Halloween. They’re soulless, no teasing spark anymore—just black abysses, but when he speaks, voice low and gruff, inhuman now—nothing like the almost coy, sweet voice he’d used all night—a fire ignites in them.

“Tell me, when has another man made you feel like this?”

You’re unable to reply, unable to move, mesmerised by his face, but dumbstruck by the sudden familiarity of his words…the familiarity of his actions, his behaviour, his aura…

“Hm? Never?” He prods, grinning wide now, as if he’s won a small fortune.

“Um,” you mumble, floods of memories coming back to that fateful Halloween night. How good your devil made you feel, now much you have wanted more ever since… How much their conducts are uncanny—albeit Jimin is much more conceited in your opinion, a gloater, stuck in his complacent ways…

“What’s up?” He continues, mouth moving down your body, kissing the hot skin of your abdomen that’s peeking out the openings of your messily buttoned shirt. “Speechless? I have that affect…”

You hate his attitude, but you love the way he looks right now, body settled between your legs, mouth mere inches from where you crave someone the most. It may have been a dick you were after before, but now you would gladly sell your soul to feel the hot, wet tongue of a man.

You’re about to open your mouth and beg for Jimin to do just that when a familiar voice rings around the room, making you jump, eyes wide as your body freezes in shock.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Starting without me?”

Your gaze shoots to the window, and yes, of course, you know that voice—you remember that voice. He’s back. He’s come back for you, and he catches you like this…

“Oh my god,” you exclaim quietly, instinctively closing your legs, banishing Jimin as you shuffle up the bed slightly, holding your shirt together, desperate to diminish what feels like some sort of betrayal.

“You can leave if you want,” Jimin shrugs, and you’re caught off guard, fresh shock flooding your body as you twist your head to look at Jimin, watching him kneel up, shooting the other man a dismissive look. “I’ve decided I want her to myself.”

No.

It can’t be.

“I don’t think so,” He shots, and no matter how confused you are right now, you can’t help but look at him and soak in his beauty. Your devil. It feels like months, granted it’s been two, but it seems like longer. You really had thought you’d imagined him at one point. But no, he’s here and he’s real, and he’s back.

“You already had your turn,” Jimin shoots. “She wants a change—look at her,” he exclaims, and both men turn to observe you. You shrink back, feeling unnerved, and more importantly, left out… What is going on?

“She’s practically elevating right now,” Jimin adds, sounding as smug as ever.

It’s true though. You’re still turned on, face red, limbs trembling, an inferno spreading between your legs, especially now that he’s made a return, and you carry on staring at him in wonder, mild irritation setting in when you see he’s not paying you one ounce of attention back.

“Trust me,” He scoffs. “Nothing on this earth—nothing in heaven nor hell—could pleasure her more that I did.”

“What’s going on?” You snap, sick of playing a pawn in whatever game is happening right now. “Do you know him?” You turn to Jimin, eyes mildly furious.

“Ah, so you remember me then?” The devil grins, sounding pleased.

“Of course I do,” you snipe. Is he just trying to tease you more now?

“See?” He childishly brags to Jimin, at that’s when you lose it fully.

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

“You’ve angered her now,” Jimin huffs.

“I’m not angry,” you interject—you’re actually too horny to be mad right now. “I just want to know who you are.”

“I’m Jimin,” he shrugs, that teasing smirk plastered back on his face.

“I know that,” you gripe. “You lied. You’re not who you say you are? You’re not from the company.”

“I never lie,” he refutes, sounding highly offended. “I’m just not from this world.”

He’s one of them…a devil? You feel a wave of disappointment hit you. He’s not human, that’s why being with him had felt so good… It was a trick. You’re still where you began. Craving a creature you can’t have, only now, there’s two of them…

“Oh my god,” you exclaim weakly. “There’s more of you?”

“I’m the better, more handsome one,” Jimin tells you, tone laced with saccharine.

“Please,” the other man scoffs in amusement.

“I thought you were the devil?” You turn, rounding yourself on the second liar in this room.

“I am the devil,” He affronts. “He’s just one of my underlings.”

His statement takes you by surprise. How powerful is he? You can’t help it, despite your annoyance, fresh arousal spreads up your body, filling every vein… He’s doing it again…consuming you…

“So, you’re like the King of underworld?” You ask, unable to hide how impressed you are.

He grins at that, sauntering forward as he beckons you closer. You don’t even want to refuse, you want to be near him. You want to feel him again. All past excitement with Jimin now a distant memory as you scurry to the end of the bed.

“I thought we decided on Master last time we met?” He questions, head tilted and you feel your belly dip in pleasure. The word igniting something in you, until—

“Master?” Jimin derides. “Please, your ego is sickening.”

“She liked it, didn’t you?” Your devil purrs in your ear, and you nod eagerly, annoyance now fully passed as you relax into his touch when he stokes your face. “I missed you,” he hums, looking you straight in the eyes, and even though his are soulless too, they have a familiarity that soothes you.

You delight as he spins you, back now firmly pressed against his chest as his mouth ghosts across your neck. You drop your hands from your shirt so it hangs half open. He smells just like you remember, and you want more. “Did you miss me?” He pries and you hum. Or course you did.

He stops at that, chuckling darkly against your ear. His next words stop your heart.

“The copy boy in the bathroom would tell me otherwise.”

“How do you know about that?” You demand, forgetting yourself for a moment because you’re so shocked.

“I see everything,” He shrugs.

“In other words you’re a stalker,” Jimin sounds from the head of your bed. He’s gotten himself comfy now, head propped up against the fluffy pillows. However, you hardly notice that because your mind is spinning. He sees everything? What does that mean? Can he really watch you without you noticing? Does he really do that? You blush crimson when you think of all the ungodly number of times you’ve masturbated to images of him since he visited you…

“Shut up,” He directs at Jimin, before he’s back in your ear, humming in approval. “I told you no human would be able to please you like I have…”

It’s true, and you’re afraid, because there’s a larger part of you who loves that more than you hate it…

“Maybe no human, but another devil on the other hand…”

Jimin is suddenly in front of you, sandwiching you between their muscular bodies, and fresh pleasure ignites in each nerve that makes your body, your eyes defocusing when you try to concentrate on the innocent looking monster.

“He was right, you’re beautiful, and I want to have you. Will you let me?” Jimin asks, eyes wide, trying his best to manipulate you. You’re not stupid. However, there’s no need. You’re horny, and with the one you crave the most behind you, you only feel the yearn harder. It consumes you, renders you weak.

“Just relax,” you hear in your ear, a nip on your lobe making you jump slightly. “I want to make you feel good again—that’s why I invited my inferior…”

Jimin shoots his Master a look of anger, but he quickly shakes it off, turning his attention back to you. An angelic smile brightens up his face, but it doesn’t belong there. He’s far from pure. He’s a swindler, and he’s using you for his own selfish gain. But then again…you’re doing just the same…using him to please the only one you crave…Your Master…

“Will you let us?” He asks right on cue, and you nod your head, a shaky “y-yes” leaving you, and before you can blink Jimin’s taking you, wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you back to the bed.

He wastes no time in stripping you now, shirt off, mouth all over you as he unclasps your bra, and for a moment you lose yourself, forgetting there’s another present until you’re hear his voice.

“Bra, mine,” He demands at Jimin, and Jimin obeys, handing the lace to him.

“Hey,” you protest, watching your devil place it in his back pocket—that was your favourite.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow. “I need another souvenir—if I can’t have your soul, I’ll have to make do…”

“You should just take her soul,” Jimin hums as he busies himself with getting rid of your jeans, leaving you in just your panties. “She smells delightful.”

“You should wait until you feel her, then you’ll go mad,” The other replies, a smirk on his face.

You gasp when you feel Jimin between your legs, rubbing you through the damp material, making it stick to your skin. It feels good and you can’t help but wiggle around under him, but your eyes are only fixed on one person, desperate to see his reaction. Your devil watching you back, now knelt on the edge of the bed, observing the scene before him proudly.

“She keeps looking at you,” Jimin points out, craning his neck to the side, as his hand slows down.

“Of course,” He brags. “I am her Master after all.” He turns his attention back to you, head cocked to the side. “Do you want him to fuck you?”

You nod madly, affirming with a string of yeses that blur into one and make you look desperate. He chuckles, highly amused. “Still craving that dick, I see. Take off her underwear,” He adds, directing it at Jimin.

You crave his dick, no one else’s. Although you can’t say you’re not excited for Jimin to reveal himself. This is wild, crazy! You’re really going to have sex with another man in front of him? Another devil?! You already know how much just one effected you, now it’s two? Your stomach bubbles with excitement at the thought, unable to control it, and you turn lightheaded once you feel Jimin begin to peel your panties away.

“Oh, my god,” he gushes once you’re revealed to him. “Fuck, look how wet she is!” He exclaims, turning his head to the other man.

It’s true. You’re so wet you can feel it collecting at your entrance, beginning to drip down your thighs. Jimin wastes no time in pushing a finger inside you, and you gasp when you feel the cold metal or his rings against your sensitive flesh. He wriggles the digit about, watching you squirm before he adds another. You moan out, body tensing as he starts to fuck you faster, toes curling into the bedsheets, and for first time since your visitor had returned, your attention is solely on the man who’s pleasuring you right now.

“Yeah, you like that, right?” He urges, tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lips as he can’t tear his eyes away from you, into every moan you make.

“Mhm, feels—good,” you struggle out, voice affected, out of breath.

“Wait until I fill you with my cock,” he brags, eyes flashing.

“Do it now,” you beg, not even realising you’re doing so. “Fuck me now—Please, Jimin,” you whine, eyes flashing behind him as you remember the other devil’s presence, eager to see his reaction. He’s smirking at you, but his posture is relaxed. That annoys you. A part of you wants him to be jealous—mad that another guy is about to fuck you. But then again…this was his idea…

“Seeing as you asked so nicely, baby girl,” Jimin smirks, stealing back your attention as he tugs at your hands, sitting you up. “Come, sit up,” he demands, and you watch as he begins to unbuckle his pants, the pit of your stomach simmering in fresh pleasure as he exposes himself.

You almost gasp at the sight. He’s thick, thicker than any man you’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing naked. The tip red and angry, his length so solid it looks like it’s set to burst, large veins travelling up the hot flesh.

“That’s right, the sight before you is much better than his, right?” Jimin brags proudly, and you almost come to your senses, scoffing lightly. We’ll see, you think. He’s definitely girthier, but length is no match for your devil’s dick…

“Come here,” Jimin beckons, and you watch as he lays on his back, head propped up with the help of your pillows, hands out so you can take them, guiding you to straddle his body, ass sitting on his cloth cladded thighs. You watch his abs shudder with each breath, see the tiny specs of sweat glistening in each indent, and your body stirs uncontrollably, eyes practically rolling back into your skull when he speaks again, fingers digging and clawing at your ass as he proceeds to roll you over his member, hard skin messaging your clit, making you groan out.

“I want you to ride my dick, wanna stretch you out, wanna make you beg for a God that can’t help you.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You’re both interrupted by a loud tut, another pair of hands wrapping around your stomach this time as a hot breath blows inside your ear.

“It’s okay, princess, I’m still here,” the one you truly want sings sweetly, pressing his chest into your back as he kneels forward. “…enjoying the show. Do as he says, and I promise I’ll reward you.”

If you weren’t already desperate, feeling his covered cock—hard—press against your ass is the last push to mount Jimin’s. It’s the best motivation you’ve ever had, and you grip the base of his hot member, hovering over it before you begin to push down.

It’s a stretch. One you’re not used to. It burns as he pops his way inside, head engulfed inside your hot, wet folds, but you physically can’t push down any further. It’s a pleasure you seek, but your body can’t take it, stuck in limbo—heaven and hell…so fitting

“F-fuck,” you let out shakily, one hand falling down to Jimin’s stomach as you struggle to keep yourself up, the other still holding his length partially inside of you.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Jimin asks. However, he doesn’t look concerned, more so smug, and that’s proven as he carries on, his chuckle grating on you. “I don’t want to break your pretty little cunt in half.”

“I can take it,” you grit out, determined now.

“See?” You hear from behind you, pride in the other devil’s tone. “I told you she’s feisty—Let me help you, relax a tad,” he hums against your cheek as he lets his hand dip between your legs, two fingers rubbing circles against your sensitive bud.

It helps to get you relaxed, getting wetter and wetter as you look down at the view, his large hand covering your core. It’s so hot, so crazy, and you fall further down onto Jimin’s dick, taking him inch by inch.

“Oh,” you let out, eyes fluttering shut, and you let your head rest back against the man you have missed so much.

“That’s it,” He coaxes. “Let him in—he feels good, right?”

You nod, gritting your teeth together as you take the last push, out of breath as Jimin finally lies buried deep inside you, walls stretched out, pleasure finally outweighing the burn.

“Fuck, s-so good,” you groan, gasping a little as you wriggle your hips to get used to the man underneath you.

“Well done,” your devil praises, before he’s removing his fingers from your clit and slapping your ass, “ride him!” He orders.

You obey immediately, lifting your hips up slightly to press them back down, the sensation already blowing your brains out. You move slowly, but it’s so intense you can’t think straight, until there’s another hit to your ass.

“C’mon, do it like you mean it—the better you do it, the quicker I’ll get to fuck you.”

His words ring in your ears and you speed up, moaning loudly now as Jimin fills you to the hilt.

“I’m not here as some kind of sex toy,” Jimin grumbles, hands coming out to grip your hips, aiding you a little because you’re already worn out.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” a snide remark behind you sounds out and Jimin rolls his eyes, jutting his hips up experimentally, causing you to yelp out, dick hitting your g-spot once before disappearing again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks, eyes dancing with mischief, hips circling around lightly. You nod instantly. “I can’t hear you.”

“P-please,” you stutter out, body trembling, a strung-out mess.

“You have to specify,” Jimin teases, raising an eyebrow, and it’s both infuriating and arousing at the same time. He looks so good, blonde hair parted against his forehead, fluffy against the pillow, plump lips parted as he watches you slowly bob up and down on his cock.

“Say, ‘Please fuck my pretty little cunt.’”

“Why so crude,” the other butts in, but he sounds just as amused as Jimin.

“It’s my time right now,” Jimin presses, but before they can bicker anymore, you’re speaking over them, losing your patience, just wanting Jimin to fuck your brains out.

“Please fuck my pretty little cunt.”

“Woah,” Jimin awes, shocked with how determined you sound. “You are special.”

“She is,” your devil silks inside the shell of your ear and you shudder, a shiver running up your spine at his next statement. “That’s why I like her.”

You want to speak but before you can, Jimin’s already rocketing his hips into you, loud squelching noises sounding around the room as his dick slams in and out, your moans and cries now filling the room as you desperately try to cling to something. You’re at Jimin’s hand, weak in his grip, enjoying the ride.

“Fuck, you sound so good,” the one you truly want husks, and your belly begins to do somersaults when you feel his erection press against your lower back. It’s still confined to his pants, painful and ready to explode, but it shows you how much he wants you, and it’s enough to drive you wild with lust.

“I’m so hard, look what you’ve done,” he murmurs, a hand slipping between your legs again as he collects your excessive arousal; it sticks to his fingers, shines in the moonlight as he pulls back and before you can blink, you feel the same hand at your ass, sliding down the curve of one cheek, dangerously close to the spot which makes you freeze up…

“I want to fuck you too. It’s almost like I can’t wait.”

You convulse a little when you feel the pad of his finger rub at your forbidden hole, the pleasure overtaking the shock you felt for the slightest of seconds. Just imagining what could happen right now is enough for you, and suddenly you’re begging shamelessly.

“Please—Please.”

“Please what?” He presses, tone light with amusement, despite his fingers rubbing circles against your ass.

“Master, please,” you try again, forgetting how much you loved the sound of such a title. It rolls off your tongue naturally and sends shoots of pleasure up your body. “I want to feel you.”

“I only want to pleasure you,” he husks, tone so carnal it tears right through you. “Make you feel good, just you wait,” he semi-warns, and then you gasp out, feeling him slowly press a finger into your puckered rim.

The stretch is slow, the pad of his digit coaxing its way in gently with the help of your arousal, until it’s second knuckle deep and you hiss through the burn, before breathing through your nose as he continues. As he curls his finger—Jimin’s dick still pounding into you, your eyes roll back, divine like pleasure too much for you, your frame almost diminutive, wedged between the two men—two devils, and your heart can’t take it any longer. The pleasure’s too much. You’re going to come.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you pant out, nails digging into Jimin’s abs, vagina clenching around his thick member.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands wrapping around your ass as he squeezes apart the flesh, allowing his friend better access. “God can’t hear you,” he chuckles, “—only we can, and we want you to cum.”

“You can do it,” you hear against your ear, a tongue snaking out to flick inside the crevice, sending your brain into haywire. “Cum all over his dick, like you wanted to when you were fucking that copy boy,” your devil snarls, tone sounding amused when he adds, “oh—but wait, you couldn’t, because you needed me.”

Yes, you needed him. You would always need him. You’re so sure of it now, and you come to the exact thought, pleasure hurtling through every vein and every bone in your body. Maybe now, after tonight, you wouldn’t even be able to make yourself orgasm without thinking of him…

You need a moment to gasp for air, your body on a major comedown as Jimin stops dead inside you, and behind you, the finger is slowly removed from your ass. Still panting, your breath catches half way when you feel long fingers weave into your hair, gripping the back of your neck in the process, holding your head back, a rattled breath in your ear now.

“Being blessed by the devil seems to be a little bit of a curse, huh?” Your devil taunts, but you shake your head, adamant. “Nuh uh,” you refuse, unable to vocalise anymore than that, but it seems to do the job.

“No?” He laughs. “That’s my girl, so good for her Master,” he praises, before kissing your cheek.

You freeze, he’s so close to your mouth you can feel his breath. It suddenly strikes you, that you’ve never kissed him before, and now the longing inside of you hurts. Why hasn’t he kissed you? Jimin wasted no time as you left the party.

Speak of the devil, you’re interrupted when he begins fucking into you again, fresh pleasure making you cry out, but it’s over now. You know that by the way large hands wrap around your hips and push down, stunting any movement that Jimin wants to make.

“I wanna fuck her some more,” he whines, gaze locked behind you.

“Tough,” your devil snaps. “You either cum now or not at all.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but gives in, and suddenly you’re being picked up, limbs wobbly as your devil helps you.

“There we go, it’s okay,” he settles you down on your knees, and you watch as Jimin rises too, dick still hard and red in his fist.

“Open your mouth for him,” you hear the order behind you, and you obey quickly, tongue out as Jimin proceeds to jerk himself off in front of you, the tip of his cock bumping against your tongue every now and again, making light moans fall off his own. He’s close, you can tell, he’s abnormally quiet, no longer smug, and soon, as he gasps, you feel hot drops of his seed fall onto your tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he grits out, and you obey, letting his arousal congeal in the air, until he’s finished and it sits heavy on your tongue.

He drops his member and leans over you, hand slowly caressing your cheek. “You’ve never looked prettier,” he tells you, before turning your head, body with it so you can face your devil. “Show him,” he demands.

The one you want—your Master, smiles like he’s admiring a piece of art work, his hand now stroking your face as Jimin drops his. You fall into his touch, like a kitten getting pet by it’s…master…and your stomach lurches at the thought. It’s his turn now.

“Spoiled by another, but still so appealing,” he awes, and you’re left positively glowing. “Swallow,” he orders, and you do so immediately, trying not to wince as your throat does it’s best to get rid of the bitter liquid.

“Say ‘ah’,” he goes, just to make sure it’s all gone, and when you do he nods his head, a glint in his eye.

He wastes no time in pushing you onto your back, his hard, muscular body pressing you into the mattress and you can feel his erection pressing against the dampness between your legs, soiling his expensive suit pants no doubt, not that he seems to care at all.

Your bed is comfy, pillows fluffy and for a moment you close your eyes, sleep calling your name. You’ve already had the living daylights fucked out of you, but if it’s for the one you crave, you’d do it again. You’d fuck ten men in a row if it meant you could finally feel your devil again.

“You’re tired,” he notices, not a thing going past his head, but you disagree. You won’t be tired once you feel him, and you need him to know that.

“I’m fine,” you smile, hands coming out to grip his shoulders. You can’t remember if you had a chance last time to feel them under your palms, and now you just hope he fucks you like this so you can hold onto them all night—and so you can see his face.

“I want you, Master, please…” you add, eyes wide and begging, feeling powerful because it seems like you have the mild upper hand right now. Has he turned weak in your time apart? Did you do that?

You win, or course.

“Then how can he refuse,” he smirks.

Your moment is interrupted by a loud scoff of disapproval, reminding you that Jimin is still there. You turn your head to see he’s lying back against the headboard on the other side of the bed, still shirtless and dick still out, now flaccid and lying on his stomach, drops of his come glistening across the flesh.

“Do you ever get sick of referring to yourself in third person?” He asks, clearly judging.

“Shut up,” the other dismisses. “Did I ask for your input? I’m being generous here, I could’ve ordered you to leave already.”

“I just find it amusing how you need people to stroke your ego so much. Master is…repugnant,” Jimin winces, face wrinkled up. “Whatever happened to just using your name…”

His name… Jimin had one, he had told you straight away… Your devil so obviously does too… Your curiosity piques, desperate to know the name of the man you can’t stop thinking about. The man who has consumed every thought space your mind has.

“I just find it amusing that you’re still speaking right now,” the nameless devil retorts, disrupting your thoughts.

You look up, watching his form, still clothed, as he towers above you. He looks beautiful, unreal, the moonlight making his thin shirt semi-translucent. You can see his skin under the black fabric and now you’re even more curious. You want to see him. You need to see his body—you need more…

“Can I see you?” You ask, totally disregarding Jimin, running a hand down his chest, feeling the hard flesh under your fingertips, and you’re sure you feel the muscles ripple at the sensation.

“Of course, princess,” he smiles, gliding his fingers down each button until finally it hangs lose, his toned flesh revealed to your awed eyes.

He glows in the moonlight, and you can’t take your eyes off him. It’s only him…

“Did you miss me?” He grins, leaning over you more, as your greedy hands trail over his flesh. You can’t get enough, wanting to see him fully bare, but you know not to be too gluttonous.

“Yes, yes, I did,” you babble, shivering when his large hands run up your sides. You chase the feeling, wriggling around on the bed. “You were right, no human man will ever be as good as you.”

“What about devil?” He ponders, one eyebrow quirked upwards, and you know exactly who he means.

“Your dick is better,” you practically moan—the thought of seeing it again, feeling it again, sending you ravenous.

“Manipulation at its finest,” Jimin grumbles—a sore loser.

“I’ve missed you,” your devil confesses, moving down your body now, hands at your thighs as he pulls them apart. “I’ve missed how pretty your cunt is. Still so wet,” he breathes, hot air blowing against your sticky core. You squirm. “Do you want me to fuck you that bad?”

You nod crazily, whining desperately. “I do, I want you to fuck me all night. I need you, I’ve missed you, Master…”

“But you look so delectable,” he says, voice low as he inspects your heat, and you burn, his words reminding you of how much you want him to go down on you—how much you crave it.

“I almost want to feast on you,” he husks, and you writhe around even more, needing him to do something, touch you. You’re going mad, about to burst, and the he pulls away, sitting back up and you feel like crying. “…but I can’t,” he shrugs.

“Aw,” Jimin pouts, mockery laced heavily in his tone, “but she wants Master to eat her out.”

“I don’t do that with an audience—peeping tom, stinking pervert, whatever you are,” he snides, turning his attention back to you before he carries on. “Anyway, it will give me a reason to return again. Won’t it, ____?”

He’s never said your name before, you can’t even remember telling him it, but it sounds so beautiful coming from his mouth. You need to hear it again.

“Can you fuck me now?” You beg, beyond control.

“That’s my girl,” he praises with a grin, hands dropping to his waist, fingers at his belt and the excitement rattles up your spine. “Always so eager. I really thought Halloween night was a fluke, something in the water, but no, you really are just a horny mess…fucking a random guy you’ve just met,” he juts his head towards Jimin, grin on his face, “the copy guy…who’s next? Hm?” He presses.

However, you’re too distracted to reply, watching as he reveals himself fully, the band of his Armani underwear visible before he’s tugging them down, cock popping out; long, hard and just as pretty as you remembered. Mouthwatering, and your core clenches in anticipation. You need him inside you now.

“They don’t matter,” you shake your head, widening your legs as he settles between them, holding the base of his dick, eyes trained solely on your soaked heat. “I don’t want anyone else. I only crave you.”

“And so you should,” he smirks, using his free hand to grip the underside of your thigh, pushing your leg up to gain better access. “Look at me,” he orders. “Watch my face as I sink back into the best cunt I’ve ever had.”

You hold your breath, bracing yourself as his words spin around your head, gaze locked on his face as you feel the head of his dick at your entrance, and finally, ever so slowly, he pushes his way inside.

Your vagina takes him greedily, impatiently, as you wish he’d thrust into you in one go, but your thighs begin to shake as he takes his time, the feeling of his member entering you bit by bit way more intense. You don’t take another gulp of air until he’s firmly situated inside your walls, and you hear him grunt out.

“Ah, fuckk.”

It sounds so beautiful coming from him, music to your ears and you relish in it, letting the feeling take you away. You feel full with him inside you, complete, no longer any missing piece now that your devil’s back…

“Just as I remember, still so fuckable, I’ll never want to stop,” he moans, gripping your hips as he stays, still frozen inside of you.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead. He could fuck you forever, you don’t mind. You’d welcome it.

“See?” He brags to Jimin, face jubilant. “I don’t remember her begging you to keep fucking her like this,” and before anyone can say anything in reply, he begins moving.

The force seems to be that of a hundred men, each thrust more powerful than the last, and you gasp and moan out, never taking your eyes off him; your gaze bouncing around his face, falling to his neck, before settling on his chest, beads of sweat dripping down his clavicles.

“Still—so—tight,” he gets out between roars, voice that of a growl as he lifts your legs up, folding you up practically, as he settles on his knees so he can gain more leverage as he fucks you forcibly; sounds of slapping skin and drenched squelching filling the room.

“What will it take for me to ruin you, huh? Make you mine, make you beg for me to take your soul?”

You can think of one thing. One thing that would render you powerless. If you knew one thing, that would be the end of you. You’re sure; and so effected you’re brave, managing to whisper your request.

“I want to know your name.”

He stills immediately, eyes wide, and for a moment you think he’s going to rebuff you, but instead he turns his attention towards Jimin.

“Get out,” he barks. “Your time here is up.”

“But—

“I never specified you could stay here the entire time,” he interrupts Jimin’s fight. You turn to look at the other devil too, dick now hard again in his fist, as if he had been enjoying the show. “Now, get back,” you hear from above you.

Of course, Jimin looks offended, but he has to listen to his ruler… By the time he leaves, your attention is already well and truly back on one person—and one person only. You don’t even notice his absence, or how he left—or if you’ll ever see him again… But you can’t think of that now…

Your devil begins to fuck you slow and deep, each movement more intense than the next, and you feel him everywhere, your whole-body vibrating. It feels like any moment now you’re going to start elevating. You don’t even moan anymore, just pant loudly, chest heaving as he drops your legs and falls over your body, face inches from yours.

“Seokjin,” he utters, and your confused for a moment until he carries on. “My name is Seokjin.”

You pause, breath catching in your throat as the name whirls around your mind. His name. His beautiful name, to match his beautiful face. Up close he is even more breathtaking, and now that you know his name, you’re overwhelmed, unable to piece together your thoughts. You feel full everywhere, staring up at him like he owns the world. He does—your world. And you don’t want it any other way.

“Seokjin,” you whisper in awe, hands coming out to reach for his face, stroking it with your fingertips, and he closes his eyes, a long drawn out groan falling from his throat as he falls out of you, only to slide slowly back in.

And then he’s kissing you. You’re so shocked you freeze up at first, only to then find yourself melting into him. His lips are plush and soft, gentle as they pry apart your own, and he tastes rich, like the darkest wine. It intoxicates you, but in the best possible way. You’re drunk on him and you never want it to stop.

He pulls away abruptly, panting for breath as he groans again, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Acting this way seems alien to you—he was so calm and collected the first time, he’d been composed this whole time tonight too…but now, with a kiss of your lips, he’s lost it, hips rutting faster into yours, chasing his high.

“Maybe you’re the one who will ruin me,” he laughs breathlessly.

His confession gets to you, the final shove you need to meet your end too, and your hand flies between your bodies, rubbing at your swollen clit as you clench around his dick.

“Gonna cum?” He asks, head falling back to watch you and you nod, speeding up as your orgasm hits for the second time tonight, only this time it knocks you for six, not only effecting you physically, but emotionally too—hell, even spiritually. It’s life changing.

His name falls off your tongue like a mantra, and he seems to enjoy that, eyes clenched shut as he slams his hips into yours, and you can tell he’s had it, because each movement is staggered…

“Mhm,” you moan, hands gripping his shoulders before running them down his back, pulling him to you once again. “S-seokjin,” you utter, begging almost. “Cum inside me.”

His eyes snap open, arousal laced with worry swirling around them, as his face turns uncharacteristically serious. “Are you absolutely positive?” He demands, voice low. “Once I do, that’s it—you’ll never escape me.”

His honesty shocks you, but instead of feeling any fear, you only know excitement. You don’t want to escape him. You want to chase him. You don’t want to let him go.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” you tell him.

“You will want no other man,” he continues, only this time there’s no superiority in his tone.

He’s giving you a way out, if you want it.

You don’t.

“If you think it’s bad now, you have no idea...”

Bad is not the word you’d use at all. It’s glorious. A true blessing, and you do want no other man. You only want your devil. Seokjin. Your Seokjin.

“I want your cum. Fill me up,” you tell him. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You’re so serious in that moment, he has to believe you, and finally he’s giving into his own trepidation, thrusting his hips at lightning speed, mouth back on yours, cries of “mine, you’re mine” leaving him every now and then as he pants for breath, mouth falling to your chin, cheeks, eyelids—whatever he can reach.

It’s when you declare quite strongly “I’m yours,” does he come inside you with a yell. Hot, thick liquid shooting up inside you, coating your walls, marring your purity once and for all.

You’re sedated, relaxed when he pulls out, collapsing beside you as he admits in his deliriously high state, “there’s something about you—I couldn’t forget that night.” You feel the same, but of course, that’s only to be expected. You were made to worship him the very night he came to you on that fateful Halloween, but something tells you, a devil shouldn’t feel the same affinity…

“Seokjin, will you come back?” You ask, rolling over to face him.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, looking shocked.

“Of course I do,” you nod. “I’m yours remember,” you add with a smirk and he chuckles, shaking his head as he sits up, dressing himself again as he does up his belt.

You feel dejected. You don’t want him to leave just yet. You want him to stay all night. But he moved swiftly, standing from the bed as he begins to button up his shirt. You roll onto your back, following him with your eyes as he reaches for the blanket at the end of your bed, opening it to place over you. He knew you were getting cold, and his little caring action touches your heart. He sits beside you, smoothing the hair from your face.

“Dancing with the devil so much will be a bad idea,” he tells you, almost as if he’s reprimanding you. “It won’t end well,” he adds sternly.

“I don’t believe that,” you argue almost childishly, but you sound so sure of yourself all he can do his laugh, gaze filled with admiration. He nods, a silent agreement between the two of you… This won’t be the end.

His parting gift is a kiss to your forehead, as he continues to watch you. “Beautiful,” he muses, and when you can’t help but blink, he’s gone in a millisecond.

#jin smut #jimin smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jimin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:tdwa

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anhed-nia · 7 years

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7/16/17: EXTRAORDINARY: THE STAN ROMANEK STORY

Like many lonely, chronically disappointed tweens who had the good fortune of growing up with the X-Files, I spent much of my youth in a permanent UFO frenzy. I pored over esoteric encyclopedia sets at the library, watched the stupid skies, subscribed to the MUFON newsletter, and even “read” books I couldn’t begin to understand about the theoretical physics of different recorded sightings. I was motivated by the same things as likeminded anybody-elses in similarly small, crappy towns: boredom, untreated mental illness, and easily substantiated feelings of inadequacy. Oh, and also group psychosis (I said, casually). My certifiable “best friend” at the time was a person who used her unassuming presentation and affected naivete to introduce, after a calculated fashion, all sorts of impossible ideas about her own alien encounters that were hard to ignore in their outrageousness. She excelled at setting these things up, not only as something that made her special, but as a reason for other people to feel sorry for her, which could put younger rubes like myself in an uncomfortable place. Certainly there was a whiff of artificiality about her, even for a desperate moron like myself, but I vividly remember my first feelings of full-on skepticism, inspired by a scene in which she was only a bystander. We had excitedly noticed a flyer for an event at our local library, at which an “experiencer” would be presenting his “evidence”. We got one of our parents to drive us and arrived in a mood of deadly seriousness, notebooks in hand, draped in cheap trench coats. I don’t know what I expected, but the guy (whose identity I can’t recall) was a completely familiar type of upstate redneck, who told his tale with a mixture of insistent self-importance and dewey-eyed victimhood, which I would later learn second-hand to associate with abusive parents and other sorts of suburban psychopaths. His prized abduction artifact appeared in photographs as a nondescript metal “implant”, which he unwisely accompanied with a recitation of arguments he had with medical professionals about how the item was swathed in fibers “from my underwears” and whether that could be because it showed no signs of extraterrestrial origin, or because the implant dropped out of his asshole. Even at the peak of my willingness to believe in anything that would make life seem more interesting, I felt my heart breaking a little as this person spoke.

Even now, decades later, I managed to take a similar emotional rollercoaster ride while subjecting myself to EXTRAORDINARY: THE STAN ROMANEK STORY. It’s been a long time since I felt even a twinge of real interest in the topic of alien abductions, but I maintain an interest in true crime media, both for the factual content, and out of morbid curiosity about how people choose to put these things together. One recent afternoon, having run out of cheap, sadistic british tabloid shows to watch, I decided to take in a UFO documentary for old time’s sake. While I’m still able to repeat names like Betty and Barney Hill sometimes, I had never heard the name of this “experiencer”, supposedly at the center of the most thoroughly documented case of alien abduction in history. This was perhaps for the best, as what I was to see would shock me very deeply, although not at all in the way that the filmmakers intended.

The story goes as follows: In September 2001, shortly after the attack on the World Trade Center, schlubby nobody Stan Romanek videotaped an unknown flying object for the first of what would seem to be countless times. His visual encounters quickly escalated to lost time, mysterious injuries, and anomalies in his home security recordings. Unsatisfied with these casual intrusions, bobble-headed “grays” then began sneaking around his home, and finally, Stan became a frequent visitor of outer space--the wonderment of which was often tarnished by the appearance of the malevolent men in black.

At the time of this viewing, I had no vulnerability to becoming a believer, but I was ready to feel at least a frisson of ambiguity in Romanek’s reportedly thorough documentation. What I found instead was much more disturbing. After an interminable string of X-Filesy lowercase title cards that leave no doubt as to the filmmakers’ commitment to Stan’s cause, we finally see a series of short videos of these UFOs--distant, blurry, jittery images that almost always include the voices of off-screen “witnesses” whose dubious existence is supposed to amount to some form of corroboration. I thought, ok, maybe there’s something more debatable, like...later on. The next piece of alleged evidence is a series of space travel-related equations that Romanek wrote during hypnotic regression therapy (a red flag if ever there was one), all of which turn out to be known quantities that could certainly be researched and memorized by a UFO buff with some time on his hands. Finally, Romanek himself--a scruffy middle-aged white male--fully takes the stage in an endless set of repellant photographs of himself leering smugly thought a bloody nose or some such, proudly displaying greenish cigarette burn-like sores that supposedly appear on his person after something very like a flashlight beam or laser pointer makes its appearance in and around his home. His self-satisfied countenance added indignation to my rational assessment that none of what I had seen so far would be impossible to reproduce for even a clumsy amateur. Then, I saw it. The now infamous “boo” video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wc_gCqkyz9M

I absolutely could not believe that what I had seen was being presented to me as photographic evidence of alien life. Admittedly, Romanek has a fine sense of cinematic timing--the piece truly feels like it’s leading up to a jump scare--but little egghead swiveling and dipping in and out of frame, like something out of Scooby-Doo, is qualifiedly hilarious. Equally hilarious is the idea that these advanced alien beings don’t have a more refined method of surveilling humans, and even more hilarious is Romanek theatrically running up to the window at the end of the video, seemingly holding the flash used to create the “mysterious” flashes of light that accompanied the visitation. More hilarious still is the following grainy video of a similar creature peering at Romanek in his kitchen, as he cries out “What is that? What’s it doing?” in spite of the fact that he has allegedly been visited by what he claims are aliens for quite a while now.

Romance’s put-on ignorance is high among the most disturbing things about him. He employees a conversational technique well-known to liars and people who have had to deal with them: Instead of saying something like “I know it sounds crazy, but I have been abducted by aliens. There is no other explanation. Here I’m missing time and waking up in strange places because of what they did to me, here I’m mysteriously ill or healed by their intervention, here I’m clearly being stalked and harassed by the government because of what I know”--instead of this kind of sure-footed declaration, Romanek invariably pretends not to understand what has happened to him, even though he’s made a career out of his abductee status. He tells each tale as if it were his first and only encounter with the paranormal, and couches them in deliberately unsound alternative explanations for what may have happened. In my favorite edition, he describes a scene in which three half-human aliens knock on his door in the middle of the night in order to tell him that “it’s going to be ok” or something. Instead of simply getting to the point that he so desperately wants his audience to take, Stan exhaustively describes the knock at the door. He’s a heavy sleeper! He never wakes up for a loud noise, and yet, mysteriously, he did! He thought it must have been a drunk neighbor banging on the door, because he is a rational man (and I guess that must be a common occurrence?)! He went to the door and saw three people, and automatically assumed he was being burglarized! He yelled over and over to his family that he was being robbed! Because that would be normal! On and on he goes with defensive statements his many alien-free explanations for the knock, even though a guiltless person of sound mind might have simply said, “Someone knocked at the door at an odd hour, so I woke up and went to see what it was.” Curiously, even though we are rapidly careening toward the part of the story in which the adoring aliens reveal their worshipful plan for Stan, this anecdote ends with Stan aggressively trying to hurl one of the aliens off his balcony.

Because this whole conceit is so clearly designed to scaffold Romanek’s brittle ego, it’s not enough to say that he is the special focus of extraterrestrial fascination. There must also be evidence of Stan’s extreme machismo. Not only does he bravely insist on telling his tale in spite of sinister government warnings, but he single-handedly takes on three “obvious black ops guys” in a fantasy sequence that would make a fibbing child blush. The MIBs “somehow find out exactly where (he) parked (his) bicycle!”, and leap out of a van in an elaborate kung fu demonstration. Flabby Stan allegedly laughs this off, to their consternation, and proceeds to nearly murder one of them with his bike lock. They flea from his might after resorting to tasing him, and the filmmakers seem to produce a police report, but not the witness who supposedly filed it.

There are a variety of witnesses in the movie, typically identified as “woman 1″ or “woman 2″, or presented only audio recordings only of supposed doctors who supposedly verified Romance’s various medical miracles. Most of Stan’s supporters do seem to be women, though, which has an unpleasantly culty sort of vibe to it. Crazed narcissists like Stan can make themselves enormously compelling to certain sorts of people who want to feel special by proxy, or worse, who feel an obligation to comfort a person burdened with such specialness. No one in the film is sadder than Stan’s watery-eyed wife Lisa, who must not only defend his authenticity at all costs, but who has also lived through the incomprehensible horror of watching Stan “reunite” with a woman with whom he has supposedly copulated in outer space. This Other Woman, predictably a taller more buxom specimen with nicer hair, must have been subtly hypnotized by Romanek at the UFO event where he identified her. This is much easier to do than you could ever imagine, to someone who is as anxious to Believe is the people you would find in such a place. After tormenting Lisa for six years with his fantasies about how the aliens bred him with a beautiful woman on their saucer, all Stan probably had to do with was spot out a sexy specimen at one of his speaking dates, and say something along the lines of “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before? You know, IN SPACE?” People in this sort of hungry, lonely mental state can lose the boundary between their memory and their imagination at a speed that the blissfully ignorant could never dream of.

And so it was that the emotionally battered Lisa entered into an ambiguous threesome with her husband and his invented alien breeding partner. Perhaps the most troubling part of the movie comes when the anxious filmmaker more than goads Lisa into describing herself as a person who is not only honest to a fault, but who loathes deception above all other things. No statement could be more damning from a person who is defending such an outrageous fabrication. Lisa has to halt her genuine weeping over her domestic predicament to recite this script about her honesty, stammering and looking up and away before each conclusion. Ironically, this tic is something I first learned about in SEX, LIES & VIDEOTAPE--liars compulsively look up and at an angle while lying.

Now it’s time to qualify my assertion that this was “perhaps” the most troubling part of the movie. More awful still is the introduction of Stan’s various space children, first in the form of an obviously faked photograph that has to be seen to be believed. According to the subject, an ethereally beautiful little girl with enormous crystal blue eyes and white-blonde hair (yet who still “looks exactly like” the dull brunette Romanek) appeared multiple times scampering around in his backyard--but, naturally, vanishing before any contact is made. These appearances are followed by electronically distorted phone calls in which Stan’s elfin progeny tell him how much they love them. This part of the story is somehow padded out by a phone call from an adult female caller who addresses Romanek as STARSEED, warns him about government baddies, and most preposterously, insists to the filmmakers that Stan is different from other people...the way he thinks...the way he views the world...(because of) who he really is. Personally, I felt affronted by the idea that an intergalactic messiah who is so “different” would also wear corny pickup line tee shirts and use the word “frickin’”, but I guess that’s why I’m not the one who is productively boning out amongst the stars.

Stan’s stories about his alien family are also disturbing for another reason, which is revealed just before the ending credits. It isn’t just that his emotion is so frankly fake, at least in a scene where he seems to claim that he weeps every time he remembers his distant babies--and is then unable to tear up on camera; It isn’t just the obvious confusion of reverence and victimization, so typical of psychopaths, that rears its head between his stories of being covered in sores and pissing blood and ALSO being coddled and adored by aliens; It isn’t even just the creepy repetition of how the little nymphettes rush up and hug his thighs and lavish affection on him. At least, not by itself. It’s that in February of 2014, Stan Romanek was charged with possession and distribution of child pornography. I discovered this earlier in my screening, when the “Boo video” made me wonder what kind of movie I was watching. Was this actually meant to be a straight comedy, and Netflix had simply miscategorized it? Was there going to be some big reveal of a hoax, after all this drippy sincerity about Stan’s predicament? I couldn’t wait to find out, and what I found out helped to contextualize a lot of the rest of the film. The filmmakers, of course, contextualize these charges with a list of headlines from sources like Info Wars about how the FBI routinely frames dissidents for child porn just to bury them. The thing is, I can believe that that sort of thing may happen to people now and again. I just don’t believe that it happened to Stan Romanek.

I mentioned the proximity of Stan’s first alien encounter to 9/11 for a reason: I believe, in my arm chair psychologist fashion, that that national catastrophe catalyzed his powerful need for attention. Suddenly, something had happened that gripped the whole country, something that came from the sky. This may have activated Romanek’s evident need to be the absolute center of focus, which required of him an unthinkable stunt to jar the people around him out of their patriotic grief and rage, which had nothing to do with himself. Something from the air would have to descend upon Stan, something much wilder than a hijacked airplane. Stan would have to become simultaneously a victim to rival the actual victims, and a hero to rival the actual heroes responding to this assault on the country. In a curiously isolated sequence, Romanek gives a very brief summary of his childhood, which is predictably unenviable. As an undiagnosed dyslexic, Stan was unfairly placed in “retard classes” and, he petulantly describes, abused by his sadistic teachers as if he were as lowly as his classmates. He claims also to have been surrounded by Bloods and Crips, and in that environment became so violent and strong that he beat up everybody including the principle of his high school. That’s about as much as you get out of Romanek that is not about aliens, but even that scrap gives you a pretty clear portrait of a person who fixates on having been misjudged as inferior, stupid and thuggish. I supposed to get out from under that, without much talent or charm in evidence, one would have to cook up evidence of glory at least as outrageous as being an alpha space stud. I think what I’d really like to see is a counter documentary made by someone, anyone, with the wherewithal to pick apart Stan Romance’s epic ruse. Unfortunately, I’ll just have to settle for the child pornography case, which goes to court at the end of this month.

#blogtober #stan romanek #extraordinary: the stan romanek story #aliens #ufos #abductees #documentary

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almightygodismydependence-blog · 5 years

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There Is a Way to Resolve the Generation Gap

Brothers and sisters,

Good day!

Recently my relationship with my son has been particularly strained. As he has grown older, the generation gap between us has got deeper and deeper. My son is now in junior high school and I am worried that he will play games online and put off studying. I am also worried about him experiencing puppy love and learning bad ways and so I often watch him. To prevent him picking up bad habits, I check whether there is anything bad on his cell phone. Unexpectedly, he was particularly angry and disgusted after he found out and even asked why I controlled him. My son’s words made me extremely sad. I am his mother. If I do not care for him who will? Isn’t my so-doing for his own good? How come he cannot understand me. He has not spoken to me for several days because of this. I feel so distressed that I can only pray to the Lord. But no matter how much I pray I cannot feel the Lord’s presence. Now I do not know what to do. A sister told me that brothers and sisters of The Church of Almighty God often help her overcome difficulties, so I am sending you this letter in the hope that you can help me.

Sister,

Hello! Thank you for putting your trust in us. Actually, it is God’s words that can truly solve our difficulties. We hope that through our meager power we can spread more of God’s words to enable brothers and sisters to get help from God’s words.

From your letter we can see that there is a generation gap and misunderstanding between mother and child and a lack of mutual trust and this is why you feel anguish and sorrow and do not know what to do. Actually, handling the relationship between mother and child well is not as difficult as we imagine. We need only grasp a few principles and we will find that the generation gap between mother and child can be resolved.

1. Entrust Your Children to God

Nowadays, evil trends spread across society, things are getting worse and worse in the world every day and unscrupulous things can be seen everywhere. We are afraid that our children will learn bad ways and discipline them. This makes sense. This is parental responsibility. But we must know that our power has limits. People cannot change others. Only God is the truth, the way and the life and only God’s words can make people understand the truth and see through the darkness and evil of the world and thus stay away from Satan’s harm and deception. Only God can change people and lead people onto the right path. Therefore, God is the only One we can depend upon and man is powerless. Although it looks like it is parents who raise children into adults, we cannot as parents decide or make arrangements for children to learn good or bad ways or take a certain path. As Joseph’s story recorded in the Bible, Joseph was the most loved child of his father Jacob, but Jacob could not determine Joseph’s experiences in life. Joseph was alone at the age of seventeen when he was sold in Egypt; he was still a boy. He left his father and eleven brothers and became a slave in Egypt. He was subsequently falsely accused and sent to prison. But Jehovah God was with him and not only protected and led him but also gave him superior wisdom. Later, he interpreted dreams for the Pharaoh of Egypt and became the prime minister of Egypt. He prepared for the seven years of famines and saved his entire family. There is no doubt that Joseph experienced hardships, but he was able to grow up peacefully and accomplish much. It was all due to God leading him and silently keeping watch over him by his side. (See Gen. 37, 39). As it says in the Bible: “And he that believes on him shall not be confounded” (1 Pe 2:6). From Joseph’s growth, we can see that our destiny is dictated and arranged by God. It is also God who leads us to grow up and therefore we can completely entrust our children to God and obey God’s arrangements. This is the wise choice.

2. Learn to Let Go and Give Our Children Free Space

Although children are always children in our eyes, they constantly change as they get older. Their horizon gradually broadens, their thinking becomes enriched and they start to establish their own outlook on life and values and to have their own hobbies and pursuits. They gradually develop their own cognitive ability and judgment on everything. At this point in time, children need space for them to develop independently. They need parental company, supervision and positive guidance, but not control. If we worry about whatever they do and take charge of everything as if everything of theirs is in our hands, then this will only pressurize and constrain children and also affect our relationship with our children. As God said: “Parents raise their children from infancy to adulthood, nagging them and looking after them throughout. How do parents see time? Whether twenty or thirty years later, their attitude toward their children is the same as when they were born, it doesn’t change. The child has, in fact, long since grown up, he’s long since established his own way of thinking, state of mind, insight, and viewpoints—he’s long since had these things—yet the adults never realize this, they can never keep up, they always talk and interact with the child as if he’d just been born.” “In particular, parents always treat their children like slaves, or else spoil them, overindulge them, and dote on them like a kitten or a puppy, whilst holding them tight, keeping a tight rein on them, strictly controlling them—with the result that the child stops being a child, and being a parent becomes very tiring. Why is it tiring? Why is it hurtful? Why doesn’t your child listen to you? Why, having put in all this effort, doesn’t the child understand you in the slightest? Doesn’t this serve you right?” (“What Should One Possess, at the Very Least, to Have Normal Humanity” in Records of Christ’s Talks).

God’s words are very clear about our awkward relationship with our children. The reason why we have a generation gap between us and our children is because before we know it our children have grown up and start to have their own thoughts and views, yet we still think of them as a little baby held in our arms every day and always control them according to our own ideas and ask of children as we desire. In doing so, children have to rebel. The root cause of this problem is predominantly because we do not know about the laws of growth that God has determined for people. This results in the kind of parent-child relationship as revealed in God’s words, “The child stops being a child, and being a parent becomes very tiring.” In fact, as long as we can see the fact that our children have grown up, learn how to respect them and do not make demands of them based on our own standards then our relationship with our children will be harmonious. Otherwise, you will only tire yourself and give your child a hard time. For us, children are like kites. We want to see them fly high, but we are afraid of them being too far from us, so we always want to let them go yet we cannot bear to do so. At this time, we must recognize this fact: Children will always grow up. If we always want to keep a firm hold on them, both sides will suffer. So we must learn to let go and to give children a free space for growth.

3. Put the Parent Status to One Side and Treat Children on an Equal Footing

When educating our children, we often hear parents saying: “I am your mother (I am your father), so you should listen to me. I’m doing all this for you.” Very often, it’s this kind of power control which increasingly alienates us from our children and even sours the relationship. In fact, this kind of control is not as per God’s will and is the manifestation of our arrogance. All of us are created by God, yet God is humble and hidden. He never suppresses us in his capacity as God. He does not force us to listen to His words or to act according to the truth. Nor has He said how He will treat us if we do not act according to His words. Rather, He gives us the space to choose freely. This is God’s attitude and manner toward us, created humanity. We are created beings just like our children and our status is equal. What right do we have to demand that our children listen to us and do as we demand? If we always take the position of the parent and control children with power then this is a manifestation of our arrogance, conceit and lack of reason. Children actually resent this about parents the most. If we can resolve this problem, we can get along with our children properly. How can this problem be resolved? God’s words say: “Treat your children, treat those in your own family the same as you would an ordinary brother or sister. Although you have a responsibility, a fleshly relationship, nevertheless the position and perspective you should have is the same as with friends or ordinary brothers and sisters. That is, you can’t control, you can’t restrain your children, and always try to keep in command and have complete control over them. Let them make mistakes, let them say the wrong things, let them do childish and immature things, do stupid things. No matter what happens, sit down and calmly talk with them, communicate and seek. Don’t you think this attitude is good? Isn’t it right? So, what is being let go here? (Position and pride.) It is the letting go of the position and status of a parent, the airs of a parent, and all of the responsibility one thinks they should assume, everything that one thinks they should be doing as a parent; instead, it’s enough that one does the best they can in terms of their responsibility as an ordinary brother or sister” (“What Should One Possess, at the Very Least, to Have Normal Humanity” in Records of Christ’s Talks).

God’s words have pointed out the actual path to resolving this parent-child relationship. That is, that we must let go of the parental position and status and treat children as our equals, as God demands. We must learn how to communicate with our children and open our hearts to them, listen to them patiently, understand children’s true thoughts and difficulties, help them learn how to distinguish right from wrong according to God’s words and guide them to have the right pursuits and life goals. When children make mistakes, we must not teach them based on corrupt disposition, but instead communicate with them based on love and patience and give them time and process to change. Just as when we lie, deceive and sin against God, God gives us the opportunity to repent and change. He uses love to influence and God’s words and the truth to shepherd, supply and support us. When we practice in this way, children are willing to be close to us, and there will be no difficulties in getting on with our children.

When getting along with children, some brothers and sisters practice in this way: They lead the child before God and bring the child to pray to God and read God’s words. Under the leadership of God’s words, children will be able to distinguish, know what actions please God and what God loathes. In everyday life, children will also rely on God, actively practice the word of God and shun all kinds of evil habits, eschew temptation and be guarded and cared for by God. When their children make mistakes sometimes, they can correctly deal with their mistakes according to the word of God, come before God with their children and seek the truth to resolve the problem. Both parent and child can practice the word of God and live by the word of God. In this way, they will surely be blessed by God, the generational gap between parent and child and any misunderstandings between them will disappear naturally and the relationship will return to normal.

In fact, all relationships between people today are particularly tense. From society to family, from groups to individuals, there are no normal interpersonal relationships between people. This is all because mankind has been too deeply corrupted by Satan. Everyone is full of Satan’s corrupt disposition: being arrogant, conceited, self-righteous, self-important, crooked, deceitful, and selfish. This is the root cause of tensions between people. But as long as we all come to God to pursue the truth and resolve our corrupt disposition, are able to live by the word of God and be honest, then the bright, peaceful, harmonious good life that mankind yearns for shall naturally appear, and we will also receive God’s protection and blessing, live in God’s light and have a happy life. Therefore, the best medicine for resolving the generation gap problem is in the word of God because Almighty God says: “My words are the truth, the life, the way, and a double-edged sword, which can defeat Satan. Those that understand and have a path to practice are blessed” (Utterances and Testimonies of Christ in the Beginning).

Sister, we hope that our fellowship can bring you a little help in resolving your difficulties. And finally, may God lead you and bless you! We also hope that your relationship with your son will return to normal as soon as possible under the leadership of God and that there will be no more anguish. May you both live in the word of God and receive God’s care and protection. All glory be to God, Amen!

Recommended： Exactly what work will Jesus do when He returns?

#God’s word #pray #obey God #judgment

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chilly-territory · 7 years

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Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs, chapter 1

Thanks to 2 wonderful people, fuckyeahgangsta scanning chapter 1 for me and valgerdrgodiforseti sharing the whole text of the novel with me, this will be continued, yay!

Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs by Kawabata Junichi

Chapter 1 (pages 25-61)

Fondling the woman's ear tenderly with his left hand, he grabbed her breast roughly with his right. The lump of fat easily altered shape, the expected warmth engulfing his fingers. A nip at the side of the woman's neck made her breathe out a tiny moan. Her skin tasted like sweat a little. And also cosmetics. The former taste he didn't mind, but the latter was terribly unsavory. Despite the fact that an ounce of those beauty products must have cost more than caviar. Humid breathing filled the room, leaving droplets of condensated water to form on the pane of the windows. The pricey bed creaked like it was one of its cheap counterparts. Blocking the woman's field of vision with a kiss, he glanced to check the clock. 15 more minutes of this workout should be adequate enough work for the monetary reward he was getting for this. Worick Arcangelo then decided to buy a bottle of the spiciest wine he could possibly find on his way home.

Precisely 15 minutes later, the woman cried out with an animal-like scream. She just wanted an excuse to scream, he was sure. Everyone wanted to scream. But screaming and shouting alone would make one a freak, and if one still wanted to hide their true colors and masquerade as a good citizen, they had no choice but to buy excuses to scream. When he followed this train of thought, for the first time Worick could think of this woman as sweet.

Until the echo of her scream died out, Worick didn't release his grip on the woman's soft skin.

Then he put on his now wrinkled shirt and tied his long ash blond hair in the back. Except the result turned out messy. All because the index finger of the woman, lying on the bed and giggling, kept playing with his hair. He shook off her white hand somewhat roughly - except there was a trick to how much power you could use in order to create the illusion of affection underlying the action and make your partner buy it.

"Such beautiful hair," the woman commented. "If you throw in something extra for my services this month, I'll let you touch it some more," Worick replied. "Unfortunately my husband is coming back today." "Oh."

On the round table of heavy carved wood found by the bed 4 bills with the portrait of a smart-looking man were left, like a bait. Worick grabbed them and thrust them in his pocket.

"Buy me again any time you want, Madame."

Flashing a smile, calculated to leave the woman not completely satisfied, Worick exited the room.

The conglomeration of lustrous red bricks that was the mansion spat out greasy smoke from its roof. Only when he had passed through the gate, leaving its premises entirely, did Worick finally drop the act.

He considered himself a professional when it came to entertaining ladies. Like a skilled gunsmith knew all about a gun just from touching it, Worick could tell women's inner workings. It was an ability acquired through effort rather than a natural gift, but his easy on eyes features that made him attractive to a certain type of women and fine hair could, perhaps, count as talent. Someone once said that having many talents was more dangerous than having none. But then again, being blessed with a few did not inconvenience Worick for the moment.

While Worick's main job was servicing women part-time, tonight he had another job to attend to, as well.

That other job was that of a Benriya, a handyman.

Suddenly, he wondered just what the difference between a gigolo and a handyman was. Both were about providing a temporary satisfaction of a client's desires, after all. If the client wanted to scream, you made them scream, if they wanted to hear you scream, you screamed for them. Both were splendid occupations you could be proud of and were absolutely indispensable in this city. And precisely because these professions were so indispensable that the labor market was saturated with offers, and if you failed to perform, a replacement was found with ease. Even in that respect, both were identical.

Worick suddenly thought of Sophia. Or rather, not as much of the person herself as of her circumstances and how they were similar to those of another woman. Sophia's tragedy, too, was but one of many, saturating this city.

A few steps later that Worick advanced while rubbing his neck, he had already forgotten all about Sophia. It wasn't like he had erased her from his memory completely of course, but her image sank into the deep recesses of his mind, beyond the surface of conscious awareness.

He still had work to do, and it had already been a month since she had been cremated.

The sun was just beginning to set.

Worick turned a corner, leaving a tidy, if in appearance only, main street behind and entering a narrow back alley. In this city, the narrower an alley was, the heavier the stink it carried got. It was a bad stench produced from vomit, excreta and other substances vaporizing, but Worick had become accustomed to it, for better or for worse.

A little further down, a rather conspicuous human form could be seen. A person stood leaning his back against the surface of a slightly dirty wall with some sort of graffiti painted on it.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Worick called out to that lean and muscular Asian.

Nicolas Brown was a man with short black hair and sharp eyes. He preferred the militaristic style of clothing, typically a black top with three-quarter sleeves and cargo pants. Meaning, he wasn't interested in dressing stylishly.

In this city, dominated with black and white, his stature was the same as, or even less than that of a woman, and he stood one head shorter than Worick. A long Japanese sword was strapped to his hip, only emphasizing his short height.

'You stink.' He pinched his nose in displeasure, not even trying to mask his discontent.

Nicolas didn't speak. It wasn't like he couldn't at all, he just did his damnest not to, him lacking the working sense of hearing being the reason. That said, since he could read lips and use sign language, there was no inconvenience between the two.

There was a good reason why the meeting took place in a back alley.

Twilights were the species discriminated against. To a great number of normal humans, they were 'exceptionally strong livestock', and even the legal laws obliged them to wear special tags around their necks. That's why even in everyday life they came to be called 'Tags' or 'Tagged' more often than not.

Sticking to facts only, Twilights were descendants of humans who were users of a drug designed to augment human physical ability in the war that was fought in the past. Due to the effects of said drug, Twilights possessed physical prowess and the 5 senses far better than normal human ones. Nicolas, for one, was very strong and had extremely good eyesight. On the other hand, he had been robbed of hearing. The phenomenon was called 'compensation', a physical anomaly peculiar to their kind and depending on an individual. It was very common for some sort of compensation to be taken in exchange for possessing a particularly superior body.

The reason why their kind, clearly still much stronger than your normal human could ever hope to become, was called something as weak sounding as 'Twilights' was because of their very short life spans. The average lifetime was a little over 30, and to live even that long they had to take a drug called Celebrer daily. Be as it may, said Celebrer itself had potent side effects, becoming part of the reason behind Twilights' short existences. They were creatures born already ailing and unable to live without having to ingest poison. Therefore, in contrast to them, typical unaltered humans were called Normals.

Humans have a tendency to hate any living creature stronger than them and loathe any that’s weaker. And Twilights, to them, fell into both those categories. From the start, Twilights were doomed to be thoroughly hated and just as strongly loathed.

Which was ridiculously stupid, in Worick's sincere opinion. Only, among fools, any smart person would be labeled fool. And nothing was more foolish that crying fool at the top of one's lungs when in the fools' gathering. That was the take and justification that Worick had long since adopted.

Main streets were for Normals to walk on. It would not do for a Twilight to stand around in the middle of them. To avoid unnecessary trouble, bearing the stench of the back alleys was the only choice.

"I smell nice though? I had some expensive perfume rubbed onto me, y'know."

Nicolas' right thumb touched his nose in a rubbing motion, then his index finger drew a circle-like shape in the air. Next, it pointed to Worick.

'And I'm saying it stinks.' "Well, it can't be helped. It's work." 'Wash it out.' "No. Nothing is more embarrassing than taking a shower in a client's house." 'Want me to fold you in two and stick you into the toilet bowl?' "Why bother? I'll be smelling like iron soon enough anyway."

The two walked side by side. Handymen would do anything. Well, almost anything. Delivery, paint jobs, taking out garbage... you name it. They would be the champions of justice if you wanted them to or siding with bad guys if the client so desired. The two last ones listed were practically the same thing, and the one in the middle sometimes paid quite handsomely. In any case, their shirts would often get dirty.

Today's job was on the cheap side.

"Granny Joel sure has it tough though, running a shop in a place like that."

The request the two had undertaken was to get rid of a nuisance. A simple job of packing a lively and uselessly conceited lot into a cask or a wooden box so that they’d stop being a bother. The champions of justice did garbage disposal, too. The size of the aforementioned lively bunch's vocabulary was like 3 words anyway, and all 3 had more or less the same meaning, so trying to establish communication was futile from the get-go. Then again, one couldn't exactly start merrily opening up brand new holes in bodies with bullets before figuring out the bunch's connections and backers. After all, some people would fly into mad rage if something of their own, no matter how trashy that possession happened to be, was broken.

'There's no end to 'em. If I loop off their legs, maybe that'll finally teach 'em to keep their distance.' "You'll get the shop's wall all dirty if you do that. And I wanna try and be nice to the only smokes shop in town. Besides, ending up on Granny's bad side is a horror in and of itself, you realize."

Worick's mind suddenly brought its growing nicotine urge to his attention, probably because he went and uttered the words 'smokes shop'. He flicked the silicon stone of his Zippo lighter, and on the second try a Pall Mall stick lit up.

He had first met Nicolas quite a long time ago. He was 12 at the time, so it was more than 20 years ago already. Worick knew he had changed over time, but he didn't think Nicolas had, not really. He got somewhat taller but still was a shortie, neither his hair style nor the look in his eyes underwent much of a change. The fact that he didn't smoke was also the same as ever. The way he treated Worick became more familiar and informal. In essence, however, he consistently remained an employee.

Worick let the sole of his leather shoe step on the fallen cigarette butt and crush it.

It would be faster if they used a desolate shortcut to the smokes shop. Going straight ahead on the junction of three roads, they reached a landfill with small clearings. The vacant lot of about 10 yards in each of the 4 directions was surrounded by blocks of concrete reaching to an adult's waist. It was the site of some demolished facility, but with no construction plans for the land, it had become a hotbed for illegal garbage dumping, lamps and lighting fixtures with cracked bulbs, moisture absorbing furniture and empty wine casks and barrels now littering the place.

At the entrance to it, Nicolas, who walked first, suddenly stopped in his tracks. Worick stopped as well and mentally checked the holster on his left side.

From around the turn of the path, weaving its way through the dumping ground, a man appeared, walking unsteadily. His quilted down coat showed tears in a few places, with its fluffy filling spilling out. Blood was oozing from his side. His steps were unsure as he collapsed onto a couch found a little ahead of the two's position, listlessly sinking into the cushions.

Worick smiled lopsidedly.

"A drunkard, maybe?" 'If not, then a junkie.'

Of course, that was not quite it. That wound was obviously inflicted as a result of some sort of an assault. The man took quite a hideous beating. Which was nothing unusual. In this city, there was a lot of remains far larger than a cat's for crows to feed on. If you started fussing over them, you'd never see the end of it.

As the Benriya were about to move past and forward, three more young men appeared from beyond the curve of the road. They all wore - seemingly almost against their will at that - uniformed black suits. The newest addition to some Family, picked up a very short while ago, perhaps? That's how they looked at least, based on that fashion style.

The one in the center pointed with his eyes to the man in the quilted down coat, lying on the couch.

"Hey old boys. You this guy's pals?" The youngster asked in a low voice, intentionally throwing his head to the side to show off the tribal tattoo on the side of his neck. To him, that probably passed for intimidation, although in all honesty a stray dog's growl was more intimidating.

"Nope," Worick shook his head. Desperately trying to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting up in a smirk all the while.

"Then get lost already." The thug took his eyes off and away from Worick, apparently forgetting all about him, and started on his approach to the couch.

Fighting the smile threatening to stretch his mouth, Worick whispered to Nicolas next to him, "Nic-chan, have you noticed?"

Nicolas, having read his lips from the side, gave a chuckle, unable to keep a straight face.

'Good thing we haven't missed each other.' "Lucky us, you reap what you sow and maybe this is our reward?" 'It's a small city, is all.'

Worick shrugged. And took half a step forward.

The young thugs turned their heads to him.

He smiled, amiably and disarmingly.

"We're not that guy's pals, but we’re sincerely happy to have run into you. We're your big fans, you see, so how about a handshake?"

A guy with a tribal tattoo on his neck, a guy with cornrows and a Hispanic skinhead with a scar above his left eye. The three's peculiar traits matched the description of the 'damn brats' that Granny Joel had provided to a tee.

"Huh?" Just as the tattooed guy opened his mouth, a thick shoe sole forcibly closed it.

Nicolas didn't feel like waiting anymore.

The youngster's chin was now pointing towards the dark night sky. Falling down backwards, his head landed into a discolored garbage bag with precision. Empty cans tackily clattered, scattering about. Dry sand billowed, dancing in the air and darkening the already dark night sky a shade darker.

Worick covered his mouth with a hand and coughed a couple of times.

"Partner. Getting a jump is not fair, y'know? This is where you're supposed to share." 'There's 3 of 'em. If it ain't divisible by 2, then they're all mine. And you go there, partner.' Smirking, Nicolas pointed to the couch where the man in the down jacket lay collapsed. The look on the dark-haired man’s face was like a dog's that was given a ball to play.

Well, there was no denying that the dude had a trigger-happy battle-crazy streak. He probably felt in his element the most precisely when he fought.

Quickly dropping his center of gravity, Nicolas kicked the ground. By the time one became aware he had vanished, he was already airborne. Skinhead and Cornrows had yet to realize what was happening. Nicolas landed behind them. Twisting around, Skinhead belatedly noticed the pendants swishing across Nicolas' chest, and his breath caught pathetically.

"A Tag?! You gotta be shitting me! Why are we---"

Nicolas didn't bother to read his lips for the continuation. Violently grabbing the man by the neck - thin compared to his arm - he smashed him face first into the ground. The guy's nose broke with a squishy crack. Nicolas' body, riding the momentum, whirled by half a turn, brute force pulling Cornrows by the hair into the motion. The bones in the guy's neck groaned audibly. The force of a throw added to the centrifugal force had him crash into a bookshelf 3 yards away.

"Be careful not to break them beyond fixing though? It'd be a problem if we were demanded to pay off damages."

Worick didn't think Nicolas was looking but said it anyway, if merely going through the motions. Then, at last, he shifted his attention to the man on the couch.

It was a gentle-looking young man not suited to violence. His sweet delicate features would attract many potential buyers, no doubt, and his age looked to be around 20. As to his physique, although it was hard to say for sure due to the oversized quilted down coat he had on, it didn't look like he was built strongly. There was a straight white streak in his bangs on the side, making Worick want to laugh because the guy looked like a kid desperately trying to stretch himself to appear taller.

"Got dragged into something nasty, eh, pampered boy? Lucid enough to tell us your mommy's phone number?"

When Worick called out to him, the young man shielded his body with both arms. Staying buried in the couch as deep as he could, he looked up at Worick with terrified eyes.

"...Who are you?" "One sca~ry fella," Worick smiled. "You sure been through the wringer. Does it hurt?" "I'm...okay."

The youth shifted, sitting down deeper. But even that simple movement looked stiff. Like he sat down into an easy chair with bent legs. Still, surprisingly, the young man's breathing wasn't disarrayed. It seemed like the pause in his earlier utterance only occurred due to him being frightened. His wound probably wasn't as bad as it looked at a glance.

"Mn, attaboy. Now try to stand up, c'mon."

Worrick took him by the lapels and pulled. The youth grimaced slightly.

"Oh? So it does hurt?" "No, it's..."

He lowered his head and covered his face with his right hand. Probably crying. Over a trifle thing like that.

Worick flashed a malicious smile.

"Don't feel down, pampered boy. Oh right, I'll take you to a good place. The place where a cute girl will comfort you tenderly."

Theo's clinic had a great nurse, after all. Looking at it objectively, her being there was a waste of her talents, but the Benriya appreciated the fact since they frequented the place themselves.

Worick purposefully let go of the young man's lapels. The youth fell backwards, the back of his head sinking into the couch.

'Wah!' he groaned lamely, and Worick cackled with laughter.

The guy appeared to be too feeble to make it in this city, but his lack of malice towards strangers earned him some points.

When Worick glanced to check what Nicolas was doing, he found his partner crouching on the ground with his hand in the unconscious thugs' pockets. Worick personally doubted their wallets would be particularly thick, but the thugs should have had enough to provide the Benriya with some pocket money.

"Hey, Nic. I'll leave the mission of saying hello to Granny to you."

Nicolas didn't seem to pay close attention, but it turned out he was able to see what Worick said just fine anyway.

'That's your responsibility.' Nicolas' face spoke volumes of how bothersome he found the task to be, and Worick smiled a nasty little smile.

"That's your punishment for hogging all the fun. And you know, it has to be very boring for Granny to always have to look at the same mug when she needs to air her frustrations to someone." 'What're you gonna do?' "Escort this pampered kid."

Nicolas' eyes narrowed as he took in the youth's appearance. The scowl on his face then deepened.

'So you finally stooped to playing that side of the f---' "No friggin way. Besides, I'm cuter than him."

Worick shrugged his shoulders. Then he mouthed voicelessly, with his lips only, informing Nicolas, '---Just to be on the safe side. Since I've never seen him here before.'

Worick had good memory. So good, in fact, that it was abnormal and had a special name attached as a medical disorder. Be it a customer he passed by in a dark bar or a bystander from the news coverage, everything got saved indiscriminately into the memory cells and kept there neatly and orderly.

And Worick didn't remember ever seeing this particular young man anywhere before.

Generally, there were always good reasons for any and all exceptions like that, and in this city such reasons were always of the annoying kind. If this kid was just an unlucky schmuck randomly picked on by 3 thugs, then it was one thing, but if they hunted him down for a more specific reason, it would be an entirely different story. From where Worick stood, all the Benriya tried to achieve here was doing a favor to the smokes shop's Granny, but from an outsider's perspective, it could very well look like they had acted to specifically help this particular youngster.

Nicolas flashed a ferocious grin.

'You know, I've been feeling that I didn't have enough workout lately.' "Provided it's the kind of workout that will bring us money. Since we're pros, yeah?" 'Any chance to let loose?' "Dunno. Depends on luck, I guess." 'You reap what you sow, eh.’ "Just a small city, is all."

In the small city of Ergastulum, surrounded with walls on all sides, all you needed to do to run into trouble was take a few steps. Whether the fact was fortunate or unfortunate, no one cared.

Why hospitals insisted on using the cross symbol as their emblem was something that Worick often wondered about.

Its shape evoked associations with death. Was it because hospitals were places where people died? If so, then maybe it made some sense.

Whatever the case, Theo's clinic, too, had a cross inscribed into a down-facing pentagon on its signboard. It was a two-storied building snuggled between 2 others and located in District 7, a little north of Granny Joel's smokes shop.

When the door opened, Nina, who was organizing clinical records or something of the sort, lifted her head to look at the callers.

"Worick-san!"

Although being only an 11 year old girl, Nina was already a registered nurse. In contrast to her age, she was a hardworker and also quite skilled. Worick heard she had even had some experience in performing surgeries. What's more, she always approached both her patients and their injuries or diseases with unyielding honesty and integrity, and that side of her Worick had solid trust in.

"Hello, Nina-chan. You're cute as always."

Blush spread across the girl's cheeks from an offhand cheesy compliment like that. Well, Nina really was a cute girl, and Worick honestly did find her adorable. Only, she had yet to learn how to use her own charms. She may have acquired the skills of a real hospital nurse but that didn't mean she had become a grownup.

Nina shifted her gaze to the young man covered with wounds standing behind Worick.

"Um, who would that person be?" "Someone I picked up at a garbage dump. I have yet to hear his name myself." "Johann," the youth replied in a voice barely above whisper.

What, was he nervous even around an 11 year old girl?

"I see. Well, nice to meet ya." "...Yes, nice to meet you, too."

Johann's frightened eyes peeked through the gaps of his streaked hair. Didn't look like he had a very happy childhood. Though that begged a more profound question of whether something like a happy childhood was even possible in Ergastulum.

Seeing those eyes of his made Worick feel a bang of pity, so he instead turned to Nina, asking, "Is the doc in?" "Yes, he is. I will go call him."

Nina rushed into the back rooms with small quick steps of a squirrel or other similar small animal. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob intending to turn it, the door opened.

"Woah!" With a short yelp she planted face first into the white robe on the other side of the door.

Theo.

He was a bespectacled man in his thirties, his hair kept short, and no matter how many times Worick saw him, he always found him to be sickly pale. It unfailingly made Worick itch to tell him to run a thorough medical checkup on himself first, but if it turned out that a prolonged hospital stay was required, it'd be a problem for Worick. Or rather, what mattered was that Theo was Nicolas' physician.

Theo gave Nina, who lost her balance, what looked to be a stern glance but gently steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. By the time Nina's both feet were planted firmly on the dreary floor again, he was already looking at the visitors.

"You just keep bringing them one after another, huh. I'm amazed how you never get bored of it." "Well, sorry about that. I'm just a man with a lot of friends, you see." "I won't tell you to not bring me more work, but I am getting a little tired of that, I'll have you know."

Thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white gown, Theo approached Johann with clattering footsteps.

"Not a face I've seen." "I know right? I thought he might be right up your alley, doc." "Well..." Theo's answer was non-committal.

It probably wasn't that Worick's offhand comment actually hit the bull's eye accidentally but Theo's reaction did stir an uncomfortable feeling. The doctor examined Johann's face with the intense look of someone appraising the authenticity of a painting, touched his neck and checked the youth's both palms.

"His wound can't be that big of a deal," Worick butted in. "That's for me to decide. You, to the bed."

Theo led the youth to the farther one of the two beds lined up at the center of the room, Johann following him with scared steps. Nina stole a glance at the clinic's entranceway - probably checking if Nicolas was with them - before chasing after the doctor and the youth.

For a while, Worick had nothing better to do than stare at the curtains that were slid shut with characteristic rustling. He didn't take a good look at how serious the wound underneath the quilted down coat was.

Worick wanted to light up one of his Pall Malls, but thought better of it. If anything, borrowing the washstand found deeper to the right seemed like a better idea of killing time. Having washed his hands, he moved onto his face. He let Nicolas handle all the fighting this time, yet he still got dirty - with the dust and sand fluttering in the back alleys and the oily stench that always clung to this city no matter where you went.

Next to the washstand, there could be found a stairway leading to the second floor. A look at it made him remember how uncomfortably light Sophia's body felt when he carried her in his arms. Surprisingly, it appeared she had made a deeper impression on him than he had expected.

Worick wiped his face dry with a clean towel.

'It's because of this wound,' he thought as he looked in the mirror. The faint traces of the two wounds her fingers left on his neck still remained. They would disappear very soon, but until they did, he would probably keep recalling the too light weight of her body he had felt then.

Bringing both his hands near his nose, he was about to check if they still stunk, but was interrupted with the roaring of an engine coming to a standstill in front of the clinic. That engine sounded unfamiliar, Worick thought, focusing his gaze on the clinic's door.

Suspecting every single caller might be stupid, but this clinic treated Twilights a little too nicely, and the fact could very well earn it malice and hatred.

"Worick." Theo's voice that came from the other side of the curtain was pushy. "C'mon, it's not a rough customer. Probably."

The sound of a car's door opening then closing could be heard. Only one then.

Some people from the mafia had an eye on Theo's clinic, but their grudge wasn't of the personal sort. It was mainly because of Celebrer - which, to the mafia, was the magic drug for taming Twilights - and Theo sold it too much and too cheap, which made him a nuisance. And if he was an eyesore for an organization, they would come to crush him as an organization. Certainly not send just one person to do it.

"In any case, I can't drop what I'm doing at the moment. You go deal with them." "Aye-aye. Coming."

A handyman would do almost anything. Including being a doctor's reception desk when requested.

Coming closer to the front door, Worick tacked a damp lock clinging to his cheek behind his ear.

He was about 2 yards away from the door when it opened. Standing on the doorstep was a man of petite build.

"Hello, the shitty clinic welcomes you---" Showing the man a smile, Worick carefully surveyed him.

The man seemed a little younger than the Benriya, probably had only just hit his thirties. His gaudy striped suit was paired with camel-colored leather shoes. His taste obviously sucked no matter how you looked at it. The articles themselves though were not cheap.

"Is yours an emergency? Sorry, but you'll have to wait until the doc's finished with the guy that came in before you. Also, if you want a medicine to fix up your taste, you should go to a place with more girls."

The man wasn't fazed in the slightest. Right hand behind his ass and a disinterested expression on his face, he walked up to Worick, his leather shoes making unnecessarily loud tapping sounds against the floor with each step. Behind him, the door closed with a soft click.

Worick stared at the man's forehead, only mere 10 inches away now. With a mundane motion, the man presented his right hand, as if for a handshake, except what was grasped in it was a Colt Woodsman the muzzle of which got pressed right to Worick's chin from beneath. At the same time, Worick drew a Colt Government M1911 from the holster on his left side and pushed it against the left side of the man's chest.

"What do you know, you are in hot haste after all, ain't ya. We're not demons, if your upset belly aches so much, we'll let you use our toilet." "Yeah, you're a lifesaver. I might need to use it to flush a certain shithead." "Now I got a question. The shithead you mentioned, who might it be?" "The wiseass grinning like an idiot even with my gun to his head. What did you do to my kid brother?"

Worick took another long hard look at the man, then let out a small sigh.

Shoulder length wavy hair. Thin brows above light gray eyes. A peculiar manner of speaking that lifted his upper lip baring his protruding canines.

Another unfamiliar face. Just great.

The thing Worick had figured for the time being was that no matter which side it hit from, trouble remained troublesome. Also, that men that chose gaudy stripes for their suits lacked taste in more than one sense. And that the tasteless man named Dario was the self-proclaimed big brother of Johann.

"Haha! I'm really sorry, man. I just heard that you took the beat up Johann somewhere, and I thought you must've kidnapped him."

The small man's voice was strangely grating on Worick's ears, the fact being added to the growing list of Worick's discoveries brought by today.

Currently, Worick was being subjected to an inhumane torture.

The torture was in the form of having been thrust into the passenger seat of the man's car and forced to listen to the man's cheerful ramblings while being taken for a drive around Ergastulum where it was impossible to reach any decent speed by definition. As far as tortures went, this one was quite thorough.

Dario's beloved car was such that it made one believe it was a clever invention the sole purpose of which was to deepen the scowl on those who saw it as much as possible. It was probably a Fiat, except it had been stripped of the original model's charm resolutely and completely. All because the area immediately below the windshield sported an eccentric design with a substantial horizontal dent. To Worick, that form brought to mind deep-sea fish locked in the dark of the ocean depths and dying without ever learning what shape meant. The car's paintjob was vivid violet, and on its hood there was drawn maybe a dog, maybe a wolf - in short, some brown animal, and it was sneering.

Left hand on the steering wheel, Dario fumbled with his right to fish out one cigarette from the Garam pack lying on the dashboard and put it into his mouth. He held out the pack to Worick, but Worick gestured to decline the offer and took out one of his Pall Malls instead. Dario nimbly stroke a match with one hand and lit up both cigarettes.

"I'm really sorry about my rudeness earlier, Eric-san." "Let's drop the formalities, we're not that far apart in age anyway. Oh, and it's Worick." "Okay, Worick. My apologies, I'm just really no good with names. I always leave all those troublesome details to Johann to handle."

Dario didn't really look embarrassed in the least as he blew out a puff of smoke. Worick did the same, forcing Dario's sweet smelling smoke back with a puff of his Pall Mall. Two kinds of smoke intermingled in the cramped space of the car and leaked out the windows.

Pointing with the end of his cigarette that smouldered slowly, Dario said, "Well, I did think it was odd. Like, why would a nice guy who could coolly smile even at gunpoint do anything bad to a kind soul like Johann." "Right back at you. Acting all cool like you didn't even know what a gun was."

And this was the real reason why Worick got into the car of this strange man - one, at that, whose tastes were hopelessly far from Worick's own with probably no chance to ever align. Worick had seen men who pretended to be calm at gunpoint. Men who had resigned themselves, men who flew into a fit of mad rage, and even those who, depending on the circumstances, were positively delighted. He'd seen them all. But Dario was none of those types. He simply didn't care about the deep opening of the gun's barrel pushed against his chest just an inch away from his heart. It looked like he ignored the gun's existence altogether with the whole of his body starting with his head.

That brand of crazy was not common. It reminded Worick of his partner's, if only the tiniest bit.

"Heh," Dario smirked intrepidly. "In such a shootout, even if the lead did go flying, the odds of dying were 50/50, right? And when gambling, I've never once lost when I had a 50% chance." "They weren't 50/50 though. We could easily shoot each other dead simultaneously." "Oh, I see. I didn't think of that." The man nodded, as if in admiration.

Worick let out a genuine sigh along with a puff of smoke.

"You love gambling, right? Remember the zero in roulette?" "Wait, roulette has a zero?" "Yeah, the house takes it all. Aka the hellhole." "Oh well, let's not sweat the small stuff. We got to know each other thanks to that. And that means you're in luck." "In luck? How so?" "You helped Johann. Next, I'll help you. And I'll give so much alcohol to drink that you'll drown in it." "Despite being broke with no money?" "I'll make some soon enough."

Back in Theo's clinic, Dario insisted on thanking those involved in saving Johann. His next words, though, were, "Where's the nearest casino?" Having no money to do the proper thanking, he apparently planned to make enough through gambling.

The idea was foolish, to say the least, but then it occurred to Worick that he was the bigger fool of the two precisely because he was sitting next to such a man, and that made him smile to himself lopsidedly. Oh well, going along with this man was a better call than letting him stay in the clinic, in any case.

"Turn right at the next corner." "OK."

Dario turned the steering wheel in accordance with Worick's directions. In a marked contrast to his boisterous way of conducting himself, his driving style was surprisingly careful.

"Stop the car in front of the smokes shop over there." "You run out? Smoke mine as much as you like." "Yours are too sweet for my tastes. Besides, I may not look it, but I'm a pretty careful man. Usually I don't wait until I run out." "Then why are we here? You don't wanna say that small shop is a casino?" "Nope. But you said you wanna treat Johann's savior to something, right?" "Yeah. And I never lie."

The car that must have been history's ugliest Fiat came to a halt in front of the smokes shop.

Worick's thumb pointed outside the car's window.

"Then the person you wanna treat is over there."

At the end of where the thumb was pointing was an extremely sour looking mug of the man who tried his damnest to ignore the ceaseless flood of grumbling and complaints Granny Joel unleashed on him.

Dario really didn't lie.

He had no money. Actually, forget money, he didn't even have a wallet.

Worick loaned him the money he got paid earlier for listening to the woman scream, and Dario quadrupled the amount in the blink of an eye.

When Dario set foot in the casino, the first thing he did was watch intently the baccarat table for about 10 minutes. It didn't really look like he was analyzing anything, just chatting with Worick on easy and foolish topics. Then, however, he sat down to play for just 2 games. Out of the blue, he bet the entire sum on the player and doubled it, and in the next game doubled the amount again. With that, he was done.

Having entered a tiny bar in a back alley with only a counter and 2 tables, Worick was given back the 4 bills he had loaned to Dario. He felt like he had been swindled somehow, and that mood floated in the air.

"You really are good at gambling." "Yeah, I never lost. And I obtained all the valuables through gambling." "Impressive. You should've earned more then." "I hate having to tote anything around. Smokes and a gun is all I need." "What a shame. With enough money, you could've bought a car with the prettiest hood ever, y'know?" "Why would I want to buy my own car twice?"

It looked like Dario actually considered that violet monster of his the best car ever made. Tastes and preferences sure differed. Complaining over someone's bad taste in cars wasn't really worth it. All it would earn Worick was exile from the passenger seat of that car forever.

Worick and Dario toasted with their drinks of choice - two different brands of whiskey. Next to them, Nicolas drank his Perrier in a way that looked like he was lapping on it. He boasted such high susceptibility to alcohol that he could even get intoxicated on whiskey bonbons.

Taking a sip of Old Parr on the rocks Worick remembered that he had decided to content himself with only wine tonight. But now that he had started drinking, it couldn't be helped. In the generously illuminated bar, a wine glass would look out of place, anyway.

Dario, who chose something as unbelievable as Bowmore, grimaced after the first mouthful and complained, "Geez, this tastes lousy."

For the first time, his and Worick's tastes coincided, although at the same time Worick was tempted to point out that Dario shouldn’t've ordered it to begin with then.

Their table was loaded with pizza Margherita, mimosa salad, escargots al ajillo, churros for soaking in olive oil and whatnot. Worick wasn't especially hungry, but since he made Nicolas who couldn't drink come along practically against his will, he ordered all of that out of consideration for him. And like the unstoppable march of an elephant, Nicolas was making his way through those plates, slowly but surely.

Dario, meanwhile, pushed the glass with Bowmore aside and ordered a new drink, no less shocking than the previous one - Venizia Mojito. Except he didn't really bother to get a good taste of it either as his fancy got strongly caught with the Japanese sword strapped to Nicolas' hip.

"Hey, hey, it's what's called a samurai sword, right? Hey man, lemme pull it out!"

Between wolfing down pieces of Margherita, Nicolas signed to Worick, 'He's a pain. Get him off me.' "You don't need my help with that, do it yourself." 'I've already worked plenty today.' "What, they were just 3 Normals though?" 'No. The real request was to listen to Granny complain.' "Good job handling it. I feel for ya."

Dario, who was watching the two's exchange, seemed to have shifted the focus of his curiosity from Nicolas' sword to Nicolas himself. His hands moved in brisk chops, copying Nicolas.

"Ain't it inconvenient though?"

If anything, the utter lack of consideration behind the question left Worick awed. Being bluntly asked to his face if he felt the inconvenience of it had to be a rare experience for Nicolas as well.

'Routine.' "Born that way?" 'Yeah.' "Ohh. In that case, it really must feel just natural, I guess."

Nicolas' answers were mechanical and monosyllabic. That aside, the very fact of Dario successfully holding a conversation with Nicolas like it was nothing made Worick purse his lips.

"Hey, you got what he signed just now?" "Of course I got it. Body language is universal, after all. Like any baby would laugh playing peekaboo, right?" "Is that really body language though? Besides, what we use is sign language." "Oh, sign language, huh? Then I don't know it."

Ridiculous as it was, after that Dario really stopped getting what Nicolas tried to convey. Despite that, he kept coming on strong, and Nicolas, frowning in displeasure at the buddy-buddy attitude the man took with him, gave him a cold shoulder, but the man just refused to take the hint.

When both he and the blond Benriya had finished their second glass and Dario's cheeks got dusted faint pink, Worick finally deemed it time to breach the real issue at hand.

"You and that kid, Johann, you're not this city born, right?" "No, not quite from here, no. How did you know?" "Your accent. You can tell an insider from an outsider right away based on that."

Johann barely spoke and even when he did, it was in quiet murmurs, but Dario talked a lot, so much that he was actually hard on the ears.

"Is it okay to ask where you're from then?" "North Gate."

There were 4 adjacent cities bordering Ergastulum on all the 4 cardinal directions, as if surrounding it. Each of them was called a gate city and housed government troops. In order to keep close tabs on Twilights, of course.

As a general rule, Twilights could only live in Ergastulum. Even if they could survive elsewhere for some time, they would still come back to Ergastulum. All because Celebrer, the controversial drug that preserved their very lives, could only be reliably obtained in Ergastulum. Nevertheless, in order to ensure that Twilights wouldn't inadvertently spill out into the outside world, this city was barricaded with the 4 gate cities, one on each side.

In case of emergency, mercenary troops representing each city as well as armed groups corresponding to them were to be assembled, joining forces with the government troops in order to contain the situation. Among said troops there were specialized expert combatants capable of challenging Twilights.

To stop Twilights, you needed to either muster military might of that magnitude or have other Twilights to fight for you. That's how overwhelming Twilights' power was.

Worick cast a glance at the plain unattractive tags hanging around Nicolas' neck.

---In other words, Dario, too, was fully aware of the danger those tags signified. His correctly assuming that Nicolas' hearing defect was congenital was because he knew enough about Twilights to be aware of compensation. And yet, he didn't put up a wall between himself and Nicolas.

The fact made Worick's alcohol taste a little yummier as he smiled a wry smile.

---Hey, hey, wait, can't be getting sidetracked here.

Nicolas' job was slaying bad guys, so it was up to Worick to determine whether suspicious people they came across were good guys or bad guys.

"So, in the end, why did you two come to Ergastulum? For sightseeing? Guest-working? Or maybe fighting a war?" "Mine and Johann's goals ain't the same. I came to keep a promise." "Oh. What promise, pray tell?" "It ain't anything grand. Actually, I don't even remember it all that well myself."

What the hell. Was he trying to dodge the question?

"Then what about Johann?" "He came because he's free." "Free?" "We're stray dogs, you see. We're the ones who decide where our chain ends." Lifting his lip, Dario beamed at the Benriya happily. "We wanted to come, so we came. We don't need any other reason."

It wasn't like Worick trusted this flippant ridiculous man. And yet, he didn't feel inclined to look down on the guy either, the fact being a mystery even to Worick himself. Keeping his guard up, he decided to venture one more question that took him another step away from the safe zone.

"Johann was attacked. Have any idea why?"

He didn't get his hopes up, which was right because Dario looked blank when asked that.

"Oh. That's a mystery to me. Just who and why attacked him?"

Worick studied the man's eyes very carefully but didn't find any signs of him hiding something.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I guess in this city it's weirder to not get attacked when walking the back alleys."

So the question was, why Johann was walking the back alleys in the first place. It was one thing if it was a man like Dario. It was still within reason to assume that he just didn't bother to think before acting. But Johann didn't strike Worick as someone that rash and reckless, at all. For a timid young man like him to set foot into the maze of the city's back streets a damn good reason was needed.

In any case, Worick decided against digging any deeper into it. Taking a sip out of his third glass of Old Parr, he smiled broadly.

"Well, be more careful from now on. If he wants to go somewhere, better just give him a lift in that conspicuous super violet beauty of yours." "Right you are. I'll try to stick by him as much as possible. Thanks, man," Dario grinned toothily.

Grabbing the glass with Bowmore he set aside earlier, he took a gulp from it, "Argh, tastes like shit," he grimaced again.

After that, for a while the two engaged in a chat about his Fiat.

That was how the two 2-man teams met.

One could suspect fate at work, but in reality it was merely by chance.

If one was to put it in a nutshell, Ergastulum was a small city, was all.

If it was a little bigger, the story would probably have been different. Or maybe nothing worthy of being called a story would have taken place at all.

Anyway, three days after the outing where the more communicative halves of the 2-man teams drank the night away, a certain piece of news started traveling around Ergastulum, told in a breaking voice intermittent with noise over a blurry distorted video footage.

To this city, it was the mundane and worthless kind of news, but to Worick and Nicolas it wasn't as meaningless.

At the time, the two happened to have a meeting with the boss of a certain huge mafia organization.

← to prologue to chapter 2 →

#gangsta.

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love-god-forever · 5 years

Text

How to Improve Terrible Interpersonal Relationships

The lost lamb:

Hello everyone! I have a question, hoping you can help me. I’m a pushy person with a bad temper. When interacting with others, if they don’t do things according to what I’ve said, I can’t stop myself from getting angry and chiding them. Consequently, they are unhappy with me and even avoid me; my relationship with others, especially with my mother-in-law, is embarrassing and becoming more and more estranged. Faced with this, I feel very upset. Every time I think of the teaching of the Lord Jesus, “Have salt in yourselves, and have peace one with another” (Mark 9:50), I feel distressed, for I can’t live out His words. I do want to improve my relationships with others, but I have no idea what to do. Do you have any suggestions? Please gimme a hand.

Poster: The lost lamb

Response:

Chen Yu: As the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” When you contact with others, you just speak little and do much. As to dealing with your mother-in-law, you can live separately and then there will be no more conflict.

Hu Qiang: The contemporary society advocates “Nice guys finish last,” so no matter whom we deal with, we have to be pushy; as long as we’re delighted to our satisfaction and not taken advantage of, who cares if our relationships with others are estranged. This is called “Bully others instead of being bullied.”

Zheng Xin: Well, I don’t think so. As Christians, we should obey the Lord’s teachings and put His words into practice; when interacting with others, we should live out a normal humanity and get along with them, which is the manner a Christian should have; only in this way can we be after God’s will. If others keep us at a distance, that means our living out isn’t in accordance with the Lord’s will. We must solve this problem in time. Otherwise, we’ll be loathed by the Lord.

Sisi: I agree with you. The Lord Jesus taught us that we should be the light and the salt of the earth, and live in harmony with others. As Christians, we should conduct ourselves in accordance with the Lord’s requirements. But sometimes I, just like The lost lamb, require others to listen to me, and get angry with them, which causes my family and colleagues to either avoid me or be cautious when interacting with me. I hate my bad temper, feeling sorry about acting that way, and I also want to improve my interpersonal relationships, but I don’t know what to do. Now that The lost lamb has brought up this issue, let’s discuss it together.

Sister Yang: Hello everyone! Glad to meet you here. Your discussion reminds me that I once had the same problem as you do. When interacting with others, I spoke from a position higher than them, and forced my own opinions upon them, requiring them to act according to my will; if they didn’t do as I had told them to, I would lose my temper. Just like you, I also attributed this to my bad temper. Later, on a gospel website, I hit upon a passage of words in Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life. Only then did I realize that bad temper is just what we reveal outwardly, not the basic cause. Actually, the basic cause is our arrogant disposition.

The lost lamb: Our arrogant disposition? What does this mean? Can you explain it in more details?

Sisi: Yeah, please tell us!

Zheng Xin: I also want to know how the Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life says.

Sister Yang: Ok, I’m glad to share it with you. The Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life says: “Since the wildly arrogant man is puffed up with conceit and looks down his nose at others, he is not friendly to others and is unable to treat others as equals, and he can never live in harmony with other people. … The man with a wildly arrogant disposition always thinks that he stands head and shoulders above all others and is unwilling to be under the control of others, rather he wants to control other people. The man with a wildly arrogant disposition always regards himself as better than others and no one is his equal. He is unable to see the strengths and good points of others and even if he does see them, he does not accept them at all and only steps up his attacks, and denigrates them. He sees the faults and shortcomings of others with unusual clarity, and he spreads these around at will. He likes, in particular, to talk about his own strengths, he particularly likes to compliment himself, to exalt himself while denigrating others. The man with a wildly arrogant disposition is always extremely conceited, inclined to be self-centered, making others hold him in high esteem and gather around him. Regardless of what he says and does, others must listen to him and pay close attention to him.”

Zheng Xin: Oh, these words are so clear. The reason why we require people to listen to us and act as we’ve said is that we have arrogant disposition. Am I right?

Sister Yang: Mm, you’re right. From the Sermons and Fellowship on Entry Into Life, we can see that our interpersonal relationships are abnormal mainly because we have arrogant disposition. Due to our arrogant and conceited disposition, when interacting with others, we speak and act with a condescending attitude, and often show off ourselves, thinking that we are better than them. We are self-centered, and want others to do things according to our will; once they do something that is not to our liking, we would denigrate them and even lose our temper and chide them, showing that we are more capable than them. For example, when getting along with our colleagues, if our professional skills are better than theirs, we’ll look down upon them and find fault with them; if they don’t meet our requirements, we’ll get angry with them. When getting along with our families, we consider ourselves the head of the house; if anyone, be it our mother-in-law, husband, or child, says or does something that doesn’t conform to our own ideas, we’ll force him or her to do according to our own thoughts. We don’t have any understanding or forgiveness for others. What corrupt dispositions bring to us and others is constraint and harm, and they make our interpersonal relationships worse and worse so that we’re unable to get along with each other normally.

The lost lamb: I used to think it was because of my bad temper that I often got angry with others and my interpersonal relationship got worse. Now I understand that it’s mainly due to my arrogant disposition. When I got along with others, I always thought I was better, cleverer, and more capable than them, so I always made demands of others based on my own standards, and if they couldn’t meet my standards, I would let temper flare out of control, and even disdain and belittle them. My mother-in-law is a slow person who does everything slowly, so I fully ignored her; whatever she did, I always had things to say, demanding her to do according to my way; if she didn’t listen to me, I would get angry with her. This not only caused a lot of pain to me but also to the people around me. Now I see that I’m so unreasonable and inhumane to speak and act by arrogant disposition.

Sisi: Your words do make sense. It seems that the root of this problem is our arrogant and conceited nature. We always think we’re superior to others and go off on them with haughty contempt; we actually have no reason at all and what we’re living out is entirely the likeness of the devil. Then how can we solve this arrogant disposition and obtain a normal interpersonal relationship? Sister Yang, please communicate with us more about this issue.

Sister Yang: Thank God! If we want to improve our interpersonal relationships, we must practice the truth rather than live by arrogant disposition. We should learn to let go of ourselves, consider others more, and see more their merits and strengths.

I once read one passage of fellowship in a book, and here I’d like to share it with you: “We should treat others properly, neither overestimating nor underestimating any of them. No matter they are stupid or smart, of good caliber or bad, poor or rich, we should not have prejudices against them or rely on affections to treat them. We should not impose our preference on others, much less force others to accept what we dislike—this is not making others do things they are unwilling to do. When doing things, we should take account not only of our own interests but also of others’. Besides, we should learn to be more considerate to others, to benefit them…. Do not ask too much of others, and do not expect to gain any benefits from others—this is also a principle of treating others properly.”

After we were corrupted by Satan, our conscience, sense, and humanity become unsound, and we have no love, understanding or tolerance for others; we tend to treat others based on our personal preferences, and hold a high position to control others and make them listen to us, losing the original likeness of just being created. As we humans are all deeply corrupted by Satan, we’re not, in fact, better than anyone else. How can we be qualified to demand or lecture others? So, if we want to have a normal relationship with people around us, we should practice the truth and no longer live by arrogant disposition; we should learn to let go of ourselves and never make demands of others according to our own ideas; we should care for others, be concerned about them, and be considerate of them so that they benefit in everything. Just as when the Lord Jesus did His work, He often sat at the table with sinners and tax collectors and preached sermons to them; He never demanded them to listen to Him or follow Him because He is Christ, nor did He lose His temper or keep His distance from them because they didn’t listen to or follow Him; instead, He preached sermons to enlighten people, allowing them to understand the truth, so that they could admit to their sins and repent. All of this shows God’s humbleness and hiddenness, and His love and mercy for man. We are corrupted by Satan, and cannot stand up to comparison with the Lord Jesus, but we can imitate Him, standing in an equal place with others and benefiting them.

The lost lamb: Sister Yang, after listening to your fellowship, I really feel ashamed. I always demanded my mother-in-law to do as I wanted her to; if she didn’t listen to me, I would lose my temper. I’m so arrogant. Now I understand I should imitate the Lord, let go of myself, and act as a person with conscience and sense.

Sister Yang: Thank God! It is thanks to God’s enlightenment and guidance that you have this kind of understanding. Now I’d like to share my personal experience with you. My mother-in-law is a slow-tempered person and always does things slowly, while I’m a quick-tempered person and do everything quickly. When we did things together, I always urged her to do quickly, but she carried on as if she hadn’t heard me, and then I would lose my temper with her. Gradually, she became estranged from me; sometimes, when she returned home, she didn’t greet me but directly went into her bedroom. Although we lived under the same roof, we were like strangers, which made me feel very uncomfortable.

Then I reflected on myself and realized: I was too arrogant. I always asked my mother-in-law to do things as I required her to, and if she didn’t listen to me, I would be out of temper, which imperceptibly made her feel restrained and created a barrier between us. Even though we lived together, we had nothing to say to each other. Not until that moment did I see that I was too unreasonable, that my arrogant disposition not only put constraints on others but brought a lot of pain to myself, and that if I continued to live that way, it was impossible for me to get along with others. I also understood that I should no longer conduct myself relying on arrogant disposition. Afterward, I saw the words I shared just now: “When doing things, we should take account not only of our own interests but also of others’. Besides, we should learn to be more considerate to others, to benefit them…. Do not ask too much of others, and do not expect to gain any benefits from others—this is also a principle of treating others properly.” After understanding this, I consciously practiced putting myself aside, understanding others and caring for them, no longer treating them by arrogant disposition.

One day, our family went to harvest the corn. I noticed that my mother-in-law was husking the corn layer by layer and then broke off corncobs. At the sight of this, I exploded with anger, thinking: Why does she husk corn in that way? As I was about to urge her, I suddenly realized it was my arrogant disposition coming out, and that I again wanted her to do according to my way. Thinking of how God required us to set ourselves aside, and learn to show consideration to others and care for others, I suddenly remembered that my mother-in law’s hands were hurt not long ago and hadn’t recovered yet. I thought if I were her, I definitely wouldn’t be able to work. But she still tried her best to help do the farm work. At that moment, I felt guilty for distaining her. From then on, I no longer control her or make demands of her according to my ideas, nor do I lose my temper with her. Now we get along in harmony with each other. After this experience, I realize that if we want to have a normal relationship with others, we should practice the truth, understanding others, caring for them, and doing whatever beneficial to them.

Zheng Xin: Your fellowship is so great! I believe that if we practice the truth, we’ll also be able to get along with others.

The lost lamb: Thank God! I have benefited a lot from Sister Yang’s fellowship. It seems that as long as we practice the words of the Lord, learn to let go of ourselves, be considerate of others’ difficulties, and show a little more understandings, tolerance, and love toward them, gradually we’ll find the people, matters, and things around us are not as bad as we imagine, and that what God arranges for us is the best. Thank the Lord! I finally have a path to solve my problem.

#Christian Devotionals #interpersonal relationships #Getting Along With Others

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ladylaffnsun-blog · 7 years

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I have been avoiding being around “too many” people anymore. It’s no secret that I work from home for a major company and I just got promoted to a much better position, I also have a raise with this promotion. My life is quiet, completely drama free, very little to no stress at all, yet I am sitting here waiting for the ball to drop on me. Why is this? Why can’t I accept that right now, my life is in a good, no it’s in a GREAT place? Why am I so nervous and afraid to just be happy and celebrate it? I don’t want the ball to drop on us again or should I say the terrifying bomb to drop on us again. WE lived through so many years of shit, that I almost expect shit to happen.

Today is mine and Ron’s 13th year wedding anniversary, 13 has always been a “bad” number according to my superstitious grandparents. They avoided that number at all costs, it was worse on Friday the 13th. For me, I am embracing it and hoping this year of our marriage will be even better for us. That we will be even closer than we already are, if that is even possible. WE do everything together, it’s just me and Ron at all or most times doing anything. We do not hang out with other couples as there are not other couples our age who do not hang out in bars or who do not have kids here in Tucson. We tried to find them, they don’t exist not here. I won’t lie, it would be nice to spend time with at least one other couple, who we can relate to, who has similar interests with us, who will not try to outdo us in life. WE already had that here and we both made a decision to end that relationship with both people, it was draining to us both. Anyway, today is our anniversary and as fate would have it, I am off as it’s my normal day off and he is working of course. Not to mention my fat bonus that I have been waiting for since July 7th still has not been paid out to me, so we are not able to do what we planned. WE were going to go to either the casino or Dave & Buster’s and be little kids having some fun. WE decided when the bonus comes, we are going to get sugar skull tattoos instead together, we are a tattooed and pierced couple.

I was looking back at a picture of myself, which I shared on Facebook I think it was yesterday and of course, it brought up many different emotions for me.

In this picture, I see pure happiness, pure joy and the woman I used to be. It’s upsetting how much I have changed since this time (2009). I miss that woman I was and want her back. What happened to her? Well here is what happened—-THE BOMB hit!! A big, fat, piece of shit BOMB hit and exploded all over me, devastating who I was and I am still cleaning up the aftermath of it all. In all honesty, if hear one more person telling me to “get over it”, I am going to snap, go insanely crazy, scream my brains at them and quite possibly if they are in punching distance, punch the ever loving piss out of them. If anyone tells me to see a shrink, I am going to do the same, I do not believe in shrinks, they are more dangerous and toxic than going through it on our own with all their medications. For me, it’s a matter of embracing the happiness, the joy, the peace, drama free life I have now. It’s about accepting the fact that I can be happy and fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.

So what is wrong with me? I know this in my heart and my head, then the double guessing and overthinking starts. I start to think “OH shit! Who is going to tell me I am too positive, too happy, too much of anything, too confident, too sexual, too perverted, too fat.”

Want to know how I am?

Want to know what I like but I don’t always show you?

Here it is:

I am woman who thoroughly enjoys sex with her husband, I crave him in fact. There I said it!! If that makes me a pervert so be it! I am not our whoring around, I have sex with him and only him, we are not doing anything bad at all. I look at Adam & Eve website, Fredericks of Hollywood, I enjoy those websites. I enjoy Game of Thrones and True Blood and the sexual scenes do not bother me at all. There I said that too!! I am so tired of keeping it in!! Tired of hiding who I am. WE hold hands in public, we hug in public, we kiss in public, we are full on public display of affection people, don’t like it, don’t look!! I would be affectionate in public, then miserable like most people nowadays.

I am a witch, yes I am a witch. Although, I double guess and doubt my own self power a lot. I pushed that part of myself deep down inside, to appease my family members who insisted I must be a Christian like them. Stupid part, most of them don’t walk the walk, they sure as shit can talk it though or post it on Facebook and other social media grounds. Yes!! I called them out!! When you are full on Christian, you truly walk that walk and not just talk that shit, then maybe, NAH, who am I kidding, I won’t hear you anymore. I want to bring this wildly, wicked, yet sweet witch back in me and let her fly loose and free. I want my power back! I want it back so boldly and strong, that I can honestly taste that passion everyday and it frustrates me. I know it’s only me restraining myself. Why? What am I so afraid of? I have tasted my own power in New Jersey, it was strong there, I didn’t give a flying monkey ass what anyone said or did to try to stop me. I was full blown insanely powerful. I want it back!!

I am the one person who gets what she wants in life. I don’t usually give up easily, I am extremely persistent and I never ask for help in getting what I want. I just get up and do it myself. I cannot depend on anyone else to do a thing for me. I must get out and do it myself. This I think frustrates Ron and a few others. I don’t tell people what I am going through mentally or emotionally or physically for that matter. I keep it anymore. I keep silent and do what I need to do for me. I learned throughout the years that you cannot count on anyone to be there for you, if you do, you only get backstabbed in the end. Yes, this is how I feel. My trust is pretty much depleted in so many people. I can count on one hand the ones I truly count as friends. Even with them, I wonder if they really do care or do they talk shit about me behind my back too. I have been burned too many times to count. At the same time, it would be nice to just depend on at least one person to pick me up, to ask if I am okay, to be there for me. I am exhausted from being there for everyone else, from giving my all to others and getting shit in return. Sometimes all I do crave that “Hey Rae, how are you today?” then the listening ear to just hear me talk, laugh, cry, scream or whatever, no judgments, no “words of wisdom”, no advice to be given. Just hear me, hear my heart and what is on my mind. I am the woman, who is always there for her loved ones, friends, family, fur babies and so on. I give of myself fully, whole heartedly and I don’t ask for anything back really. I give freely and I don’t throw it in your face if I helped you. I had that happen to me too many times since I was born, nothing ever came freely in my family, there were always conditions and strings attached. It’s how I became so independent. This is the worst part of being so independent, no one realizes that even though some of us are extremely independent, that there are times in our lives we want to depend on someone else for a change. It takes pressure off of us, the stress and the anxiety.

I am not a skinny minnie kind of woman. I am plump, I am now a size 15 at 5′ tall, I am very self conscious over this as it is, so I do not need anyone telling me how “fat” I am now. I have tried Atkins and so many countless diet pills, nothing works for long. I found that one slip up, I end up beating myself up over it, getting depressed, bawling my eyes out and it’s a big fat hot mess. So I gave up “dieting”. I heard this statement made by Taryn Brumfitt, where she said “DIET…what is the first three letters of that word…DIE. Yeah I don’t want to do anything with that word in it.” It made me giggle and really think it over, she is so right. Diet, we die to foods that others tell us not to eat and meanwhile we are dying inside when we don’t eat certain foods. I used to do Atkins and I did away with all carbs, yes I lost a lot of weight and at the same time I was miserable counting carbs, eating this and not that.

I was never truly happy on Atkins or trying to lose weight at all. When I was at my heaviest, which I now weigh again, I felt sexy, beautiful and confident. When I lost all the weight, I worried constantly if I was going to keep it off. I had constipation issues, my urine was bad, I developed kidney stones, I almost died from septic shock. I gave up diets and all that craziness of trying to lose weight. I used to do that blasted treadmill daily at our free gym, going no-where, other than insane trying to lose the weight. I am not a skinny minnie at all, I am a curvy petite short woman.

I am and always will be a successful woman in whatever I do. I went back to work after my near death experience in October, in March and I have already had a raise and now I am promoted to a higher department with another raise coming. I bust my ass and work hard at what I do. I can be confident in that and yes I am a bit conceited in that area of my life. When I hear someone else try to “one up” me, as I have had in the recent past, I have to remind myself they are only talking shit, look at the person and see where they are now and take it from it comes from. If you read this and think “Oh, she is talking about me.” chances are you are right!! I have always excelled at school and work. I always strive to be the best at everything I do. It’s who I am and I can say I am proud of that part of me.

I am a self proclaimed writer, a blogger of sorts. I don’t write about fashion trends, makeup trends, witchcraft with spells or potions or political stuff as that is not me. I just write whatever the fuck I want to write about. I feel as though I am not meant to fit into any one kind of box or stereotype. Too many people want to fit in, I want to stand out and have a real voice, not appease the masses at all. I want to be able to passionate and free with my writings and hold nothing back. If it burns your eyes out, don’t read it. If you like what I say, feel free to comment, feel free to share.

I have run out of things to say at this point.

I just want to know how I can write this out and yet when it comes down to it, I double guess and doubt what I wrote out. I know these things are true.

**NSFW** What The **Bleep** Is Wrong With Me? **NSFW** I have been avoiding being around "too many" people anymore. It's no secret that I work from home for a major company and I just got promoted to a much better position, I also have a raise with this promotion.

#Attitude #Being A Witch #Body Image #Power

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beckoningtales-blog · 7 years

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The Last Pages..... "Acceptance"

(14June17):Wednesday; An extremely yet also late "top of the morning" lads and lasses. It is 44:2AM and the Mistress continues to allow peaceful, long overdue much needed rest to elude her. Eventually the wondrous overtake of slumber will eventually come my way and my mind, poor achy body can finally seek some comfort. The tale I am once again about to unweave, may very well not come as 8f any surprise to most of you, as still in all the harrowing stories, "emotions", "feels", and disadvantageous behavior, with blatant rectories of truth staring me down and speaking aloud....somehow I still am managed to find shock and surprise in realities unforeseen. Imagined, emphatically "yes", believed..."without a shadow of doubt"..... However the prudent, blatant truth presented in various contents as imagery, to reels, and my own personal favorite form....literature. As I always say, (while bearing well meaning), I shall keep this short, and precise. I have known since the ground was still frozen cold, until its thawing and even at this very moment.... The Mortician had become beyond infatuated with his work, it became every detail of being, breathing, and existing....his life. I planned (mindfully, the heart is but full of trickery to the usual senses and a fool) NOT to compete with any "thing" much less another individual. My mind, and internal instincts spoke volumes of truth .y beguiled eyes were too blinded by love to see, admit, accept and move past. I shant fill the pages with keen detailed information as I would normally. For one, I am "LITERALLY" exhausted by this entire ordeal as much as I was when I first sensed an upheaval. Also, even as I have FINALLY prepared myself for this moment.."feelings" as absolute as they may appear to one or many still hurt. Our relationship grew apart before this year ever struck midnight. My noticing of behavioral change, characteristically and beyond came some months later. I was "blindly" unaware, yet had a hunch of how deep seeded his connection to "this newer/ yet old" passion had become. I felt there was that of bonding concerning Civil Duties which I many times could only fathom but not share corresponding roots for having never served in that form. However the bonds we (he and I) made earlier on in the beginning, and in the midst of sharing our lives and home together grew daily. Yes, we each had a past. Professionally speaking, some public, some private, some sordid, a great deal secret only to ourselves until we spoke in unbridled truth in to the other. Our most sacred bond was never that of a physical caliber despite my willingness, and committed oath that NO OTHER individual but he would ever have me in the forms we shared, (some passionate, other deviant) and above all would never have my heart, love, or respect as that all was an invisible gift I could only present in gestures and literary words off my lips were (and sadly will be) none other than his. His straying came first as he admitted, in the form of "curiosities" . then fascination, finally commitment, and I was a mere afterthought and a means to a bitter and no pave loss end. The infatuation, (as he harringly, yet executed poorly through his journals....added on with fictitious mentions of false greatness by astounding teams of repertoire) was someone of his past. Not the usual random "fair haired, ginger, or brunette" willing to provide the least amount of attention....this was one whom could share the stories of wartime, service, sacrifice, and more. In his ledgers he admitted having "feelings" (huh, imagine that) during their time together in years past, but never acted upon them. It was only when the other, sought him out these years later (in his near perfect form as he conceited himself) that those fleeted feelings rearose and left him wondering "Why now?" and moreover...."Why not??!!" We shared a blissful short well meaning time together just a few days ago leading into the weekend. I played the tale of the domestic, which filled me with nerves (of my performance as I sadly had not committed to for months now), but also upon his approval and liking. Beyond that we reminiced of our laughable, yet queer tales of situations that befell on us in the year 16....of physical love, throws of passion and intimacies that we never shared (even with our former spouses) until having laid eyes upon eachother. The greatest in our time spent, was the laughter, and the sincere embraces as we slept. Once again the ticking of time was inevitable to remind us it would be short lived. I spoke in haste out of (once again yet new characteristic for he as the norm) and it eluded from there. The evening drone on, I made baseless notations of ending our union, to taking long overdue and much needed time apart....to finally reconciling leaving by nightfall. Once again I left the decision still "hoping" (FOOL) that he would genuinely want me and us. He was cold, indifferent and set. I as usual in my despair of love and a life lived without him...(no not for what he can afford to provide me) I speak 8f an empty cold, living day in and day out like a breathing corpse due to the missing of your very beating heart and soul. He again exclaimed his desire for me not to leave.....but ended his statement with the threat that once I crossed the threshold and closed the door......HE would heed that as "Goodbye" and with very little room for emotions of loss, sadness or grief..move on. How it burned to hear, but in between the array of various half truths, and soulless mendacities he sited....THAT statement I knew had great merit as I told him numerous times, he would...easily. He also informed me (as I spoke myself numerous times due to the hatred and disgust I had even more so than usual for myself) had "changed." I was no longer the means of joy, laughter, pleasantry and light he once enjoyed being with let alone around. I (in my usual and TRUTHFULLY heartfelt demeanor) apologized from the bowels of my soul for my abhorrent, crude, hateful, accusatory, and without meaning judgemental behavior and gave my word.....IT...the questions, wondering, etc, etc would cease and dissist. He accepted my newfound gesture, (making no personal announcement of changes HE would be undergoing for the betterment not only for us, but moreover himself) and why would he??? He felt no apathy, no responsibility on his part which increased my madnees, and above all,,,,,held fast to the deception of pure innocence and blameless behavior. His only "half spoke sorrow" and it beared no deep feeling, was in his wrongdoing for "neglecting me" (poor colored me) from time spent on the computer. Today........ Oh how I rue the day, but my bed...my stupid heart....therefore my tears are not only in grief for what we had and have lost, but also in rageful frustration and anger within myself for being so undoubtedly foolish, weak, spineless, and above all lacking any means of common sense and decency. The first shocking (graven into my memory for all time) were the numerous....and I do mean NUMEROUS movies, takes, "tags", and countless unprotected bodies I saw in REAL (no not in person) time of him impaling with no feeling other than that of lust, and self satisfaction. NOT ANYTHING of a supposedly engaged or even taken in a committed relationship man. He was behaving like a self satisfying whore! !!!! I kept my word, and did not allow what I'd seen under various aliases (much like that of his fictitious Author's books). It hurt, as emotions do...... I felt filthy for even sitting beside him, and immediately lost my appetite at any meal he prepared seeing the filth of his ways onscreen. NO it isn't of is past life I judge nor have I ever, it is at the thought let alone execution of his unfeeling (minus said lust) cruel, crude and unhealthy behavior towards me. As everything else it came as no shock due to my suspicions coming forth, it was the witnessing. And dare I not ever even make mention. For one, his probably removed all accounts and content (minus that which he shares via "apps", links, codes, and torrents) but also he (in his mind I'm sure yet still failed miserably) tried to geniusly falsify his true presence by mocking different faces (that any amateur would take note of) on the male portions of the bodies in each. His costly mistake.....underestimating my intelligence as he well should, would 8ther idiotic fool would willingly choose to live with a vagrant. But yes also left a trail of endless breadcrumbs upon his searches and installations. He asked numerous times for me to avail my true feelings as upon not only being sick with cold, I was also somewhat dispondent and I truthfully replied. ....it was NOTHING. Also what personal gain have I ever deemed by admitting something bothered me in the past even upon his "concerned insistence." I held onto a shred of pride and bit my tongue. It wasn't until just a mere few hours later that I found the black and white (haha....and I am not referring to myself against his list of many) I mean the "literary journaled" truth that he even so bewitchingly had the audacity to place in front of me (after making more personal downloads and removing content from my prying yet no longer caring eyes).....the very HELL only non rouse for phonographic means of a webpage, to introduce me to something I love......"books". The night/morning continues to bemoan by. My face is sore and taught from the battle since the previous night, of allergies. Therefore I shall allow this to be my long awaited close. As yet again meaning well... I poured in several details for the audience to gain full perspective. This shall be deemed "Part 1"......of the cliffhanger (pardon me for not receiving the blatant telegrams sooner). I shall resume with the conclusion as the sun awakes the Earth or upon next moonlight. My deepest gratitude for your eyes and ears.....

#acceptance #movingforward

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almightygodismydependence-blog · 5 years

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There Is a Way to Resolve the Generation Gap

Brothers and sisters,

Good day!

Distressed XX

Sister,

1. Entrust Your Children to God

Nowadays, evil trends spread across society, things are getting worse and worse in the world every day and unscrupulous things can be seen everywhere. We are afraid that our children will learn bad ways and discipline them. This makes sense. This is parental responsibility. But we must know that our power has limits. People cannot change others. Only God is the truth, the way and the life and only God’s words can make people understand the truth and see through the darkness and evil of the world and thus stay away from Satan’s harm and deception. Only God can change people and lead people onto the right path. Therefore, God is the only One we can depend upon and man is powerless. Although it looks like it is parents who raise children into adults, we cannot as parents decide or make arrangements for children to learn good or bad ways or take a certain path. Like/As Joseph’s story recorded in the Bible, Joseph was the most loved child of his father Jacob, but Jacob could not determine Joseph’s experiences in life. Joseph was alone at the age of seventeen when he was sold in Egypt; he was still a boy. He left his father and eleven brothers and became a slave in Egypt. He was subsequently falsely accused and sent to prison. But Jehovah God was with him and not only protected and led him but also gave him superior wisdom. Later, he interpreted dreams for the Pharaoh of Egypt and became the prime minister of Egypt. He prepared for the seven years of famines and saved his entire family. There is no doubt that Joseph experienced hardships, but he was able to grow up peacefully and accomplish much. It was all due to God leading him and silently keeping watch over him by his side. (See Gen. 37, 39). As it says in the Bible: “And he that believes on him shall not be confounded” (1 Pe 2:6). From Joseph’s growth, we can see that our destiny is dictated and arranged by God. It is also God who leads us to grow up and therefore we can completely entrust our children to God and obey God’s arrangements. This is the wise choice.

2. Learn to Let Go and Give Our Children Free Space

3. Put the Parent Status to One Side and Treat Children on an Equal Footing

God’s words have pointed out the actual path to resolving this parent-child relationship. That is, that we must let go of the parental position and status and treat children as our equals, as God demands. We must learn how to communicate with our children and open our hearts to them, listen to them patiently, understand children’s true thoughts and difficulties, help them learn how to distinguish right from wrong according to God’s words and guide them to have the right pursuits and life goals. When children make mistakes, we must not teach them based on corrupt disposition, but instead communicate with them based on love and patience and give them time and process to change. Just as when we lie, deceive and sin against God, God gives us the opportunity to repent and change. He uses love to influence and His/God’s words and the truth to shepherd, supply and support us. When we practice in this way, children are willing to be close to us, and there will be no difficulties in getting on with our children.

Brothers and sisters of The Church of Almighty God

#pray to God #The Church of Almighty God #Testimonies #the truth #word of God

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