Protector Of Family Quotes

I was stark raving mad, and my family was too polite to mention it. That's what living with the Yamanis does to people. They get so well-mannered they won't mention you're crazy.

The ill-informed masses included her own family among their ranks, a family that specialized in being both inconvenient and asinine.

WE do try to eat," Raoul called back to her [Kel]. I go all faint if I don't get fed regularly. Only think of the disgrace to the King's Own if I fell from the saddle." "But there was that time in Fanwood," a voice behind them said. "That wedding in Tameran," added the blonde Sergeant Osbern, riding a horse-length behind Kel. "Don't forget when what's-his-name, with the army, retired," yelled a third. "Silence, insubordinate curs!" cried Raoul. "Do not sully my new squire's ears with your profane tales!" "Even if they're TRUE?" That was Dom. It seemed Neal wasn't the only family member versed in irony.

My squad is my family, my gun is my provider, and protector, and my rule is to kill or be killed.

I love being with my family, feeling that I’m both protector and protected.

Professor Lyall said, “His lordship did say something about dealing with an embarrassing family emergency.” “Am I not family?” wondered Lady Maccon. To which Lyall muttered under his breath, “And often embarrassing.

Along with the trust issues, one of the hardest parts to deal with is the feeling of not being believed or supported, especially by your own grandparents and extended family. When I have been through so much pain and hurt and have to live with the scars every day, I get angry knowing that others think it is all made up or they brush it off because my cousin was a teenager. I was ten when I was first sexually abused by my cousin, and a majority of my relatives have taken the perpetrator's side. I have cried many times about everything and how my relatives gave no support or love to me as a kid when this all came out. Not one relative ever came up to that innocent little girl I was and said "I am sorry for what you went through" or "I am here for you." Instead they said hurtful things: "Oh he was young." "That is what kids do." "It is not like he was some older man you didn't know." Why does age make a difference? It is a sick way of thinking. Sexual abuse is sexual abuse. What is wrong with this picture? It brings tears to my eyes the way my relatives have reacted to this and cannot accept the truth. Denial is where they would rather stay.

I want Kenna to meet her daughter, but I don’t want Diem to meet her mother, even though they’re one and the same. I feel like Kenna’s monster and Diem’s protector.

Your protectors’ goals for your life revolve around keeping you away from all that pain, shame, loneliness, and fear, and they use a wide array of tools to meet those goals—achievements, substances, food, entertainment, shopping, sex, obsession with your appearance, caretaking, meditation, money, and so on.

I love him so very much. As Romeo did Jugurtha, as Pyramid did Thirsty, as-" "Oh, please, no need to elaborate further," interjected Alexia, wincing. "But what would my family SAY to such a union?" "They would say that yours hats had leaked into your head," muttered Alexia, unheard under her breath.

My mom called Grandma today and told her we would no longer be attending family parties. My mom told her we have had enough of being blamed for something Brian did and everyone brushing it off like it was no big deal.

I know you don't love me that way. Don't you think I know that by now? But you don't know how I feel about you. No one does." "Tell me, then." "Day, you mean more to me than some crush. When the entire world turned its back on me and left me to die, you took me in. You were the person that cared about what might happen to me. You were everything. Everything. You became my entire family - you were my parents and my siblings and my caretaker, my only friend and companion, you were both my protector and someone who needed protecting. You see? I didn't love you in the way you might've thought I did, although I can't deny that was part of it. But the way I feel goes beyond that.

It's late, and my phone is in hand, note page open. I blink and see my father kneeling before my mother. People bowed to him, but he never asked me to. I chew my lip and tap out a poem. For her. For him. For me. I will keep you safe gather around you like a shield, like a barn in a storm, like the fire around the sun, let me shelter you.

A child needs to feel safe and protected, which means that their body, psyche, and belongings are safe and secure from violation. Because a child is helpless and dependent on their caregiver, they need a guardian in this predominantly unknown and sometimes scary and dangerous world. A child’s caregiver is responsible to fit the roles of safe haven and protector.

My squad was my family, my gun was my provider and protector, and my rule was to kill or be killed. The extent of my thoughts didn’t go much beyond that. We had been fighting for over two years, and killing had become a daily activity. I felt no pity for anyone.

It is a sad truth, but one acknowledged by any person who can bother to read the law, that the inferior legal status of a woman in Europa means she is best protected by having a powerful family or, lacking that, by finding the strongest protector and marrying him.

It is acknowledged that father-daughter incest occurs on a large scale in the United States. Sexual abuse has now been included in child abuse legislation. A conservative estimate is that more than 1 million women have been sexually victimized by their fathers or other male relatives, but the true figure probably is much higher. Many victims still fear reporting incest, and families continued to collude to keep the situation secret. Issues of family privacy and autonomy remain troublesome even when incest is reported and must be resolved for treatment to be effective. " Mary de Chesnay J. Psychosoc. Nurs. Med. Health Sep. 22:9-16 Sept 1984 reprinted in Talbott's 1986 edition

If people have harmed us, that part is usually a protector whose need to cause injury comes from desperate attempts to not feel destroyed by the pain and fear they are carrying. Generally they are not conscious of this process, but it likely mirrors what has been passed down through the generations in the family.

When we examine , not the language of propaganda, but the witness of the combatants themselves, religion does not occupy the first place. Their motivations are more often secular, they mention their sympathy for a population reduced to poverty, the victims of the whim of ruling classes that live in luxury and corruption- rulers able to maintain themselves in power thanks only to the support of the American government ( as in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Egypt). They speak of the members of their families or their local communities who have suffered or died by the fault of these governments ( and thus of their protectors); and they want to avenge them. The thirst for vengeance did not wait for Islam to appear in the world, and the appeal to the law of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is universal.

The story is that while a child named Servius Tullius lay sleeping, his head burst into flames in the sight of many. The general outcry which so great a miracle called forth brought the king and queen to the place. One of the servants fetched water to quench the fire, but was checked by the queen, who stilled the uproar and commanded that the boy should not be disturbed until he awoke of himself. Soon afterwards sleep left him, and with it disappeared the flames. Then, talking her husband aside, Tanaquil Said: 'Do you see this child whom we are bringing up in so humble a fashion? Be assured he will one day be a lamp to our dubious fortunes, and a protector to the royal house in the day of its distress. Let us therefore rear with all solicitude one who will lend high renowen to the state and to our family.' It is said that from that moment the boy began to be looked upon as a son, and to be trained in the studies by which men are inspired to bear themselves greatly.

For within the very structure of family life, in families that do or did embrace the male religions, are the almost invisibly accepted social customs and life patterns that reflect the one-time strict adherence to the biblical scriptures. Attitudes towards double-standard premarital virginity, double-standard marital fidelity, the sexual autonomy of women, illegitimacy, abortion, contraception, rape, childbirth, the importance of marriage and children to women, the responsibilities and role of women in marriage, women as sex objects, the sexual identification of passivity and aggressiveness, the roles of women and men in work or social situations, women who express their ideas, female leadership, the intellectual activities of women, the economic activities and needs of women and the automatic assumption of the male as breadwinner and protector have all become so deeply ingrained that feelings and values concerning these subjects are often regarded, by both women and men, as natural tendencies or even human instinct.

She wanted to hear him say it. She wondered at what time she had become such a hardened flirt. Well, she reasoned, one must get something from one’s mother’s side of the family.

The clarity of Self gives you a kind of X-ray vision, so you see behind the other person’s protectors to their vulnerability, and in turn your heart opens to them.

The two people whom I’d trusted to be my protectors were so busy fighting each other they for a time lost sight of me. I realized I had to create my own safety.

He was the protector of his family-- the entire family in every city or town around the world. He was their key to survival.

but it’s not true. I do need Julian. He’s not just my brother, he’s not just my best friend, he’s my father and my protector and my family and my home

Why wasn’t she cooperating? He stood to his full height. “I am Ronan Kayrs of the Kayrs ruling family. Obey me, woman.” She snorted. He gaped. What had happened to the world he’d protected?

Among us, for instance, in Western Europe, freedom is officially approved. But such freedom makes me think of the poor female cousin in certain middle-class families. She has become a widow; she has lost her natural protector. So she has been taken in, given a room on the top floor, and is welcome in the kitchen. She is occasionally paraded publicly on Sunday, to prove that one is virtuous and not a dirty dog. But for everything else, and especially on state occasions, she is requested to keep her mouth shut. And even if some policeman idly takes liberties with her in dark corners, one doesn't make a fuss about it, for she has seen such things before, especially with the master of the house, and, after all, it's not worth getting in bad with the legal authorities.

That was the last time there was a you or a me because I knew the second I held you in my arms in the shower that you were mine and I was yours. There’s only “we” now and we will make this decision together.” “I

Write down your fucking statement here or in a jail cell. Doesn’t matter to me either way,” he snarled as he reared back and thrust the pad forward once more and turned to go. “I can’t you asshole. I’m dyslexic.”   ***

Society gives the image of sexual violators as weird, ugly, anti-social, alcoholics. Society gives the impression that violators kidnap children are out of their homes and take them to some wooded area and abandon them after the violation. Society gives the impression that everyone hates people who violate children. If all of these myths were true, healing would not be as challenging as it is. Half of our healing is about the actual abuse. The other half is about how survivors fit into society in the face of the myths that people hold in order to make themselves feel safe. The truth is that 80% of childhood sexual abuse is perpetrated by family members. Yet we rarely hear the word “incest”. The word is too ugly and the truth is too scary. Think about what would happen if we ran a campaign to end incest instead of childhood sexual abuse. The number one place that children should know they are safe is in their homes. As it stands, as long as violators keep sexual abuse within the family, the chances of repercussion by anyone is pretty low. Wives won’t leave violating husbands, mothers won’t kick their violating children out of the home, and violating grandparents still get invited to holiday dinners. It is time to start cleaning house. If we stop incest first, then we will strengthen our cause against all sexual abuse.

I will defend this family: Marcus, Rayna, Willy, Tiki and any others who need us, whether they be hunters, demons, or the oblivious mundane humans. I was chosen to carry the mark of the gods. I will stand up and be what the spirit named me: their protector.

The word is dissociate. There is no 'a' before the 'ss'. People invariably say dis-a-ssociate, which, if you're suffering Disso-ciative Identity Disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder, can be irritating. People then want to know how many personalities I have and the answer is: I don't know. The first book about Multiple Personality Disorder to make an impact was Flora Rheta Schreiber's Sybil, published in 1973, which carries the subtitle: The True and Extraordinary Story of a Woman Possessed by Sixteen Separate Personalities. Corbett H. Thigpen and Hervey M. Cleckley published the controversial The Three Faces of Eve much earlier in 1957, and Pete Townshend from The Who wrote the song 'Four Faces'. People seem to feel safe with numbers. The truth is more complicated. The kids emerged over time. Billy, the boisterous five-year-old, was at first the most dominant. But he slowly stood aside for JJ, the self-confident ten-year-old who appears when Alice is under stress and handles complicated situations like travelling on the Underground and meeting new people. The first entity to visit was the external voice of the Professor. But he had a choir of accomplices without names. So, how many actual alter personalities are there? I would say more than fifteen and less than thirty, a combination of protectors, persecutors and friends - my own family tree.

As the urges of these protectors consume most of your attention, they drown out and keep exiled the more sensitive and loving parts of you. As you unburden your exiles, it allows your protectors to transform, and you begin hearing more from those parts of you that aren’t so obsessed and driven—the ones who love being truly intimate with others, the ones who want to create art and move your body, the ones who want to play with family and friends, and the ones who just love being in nature. When you’re more Self-led, you become a more complete, integrated, and whole person.

Book Excerpt: "What about your family, Abu Huwa? Are you an orphan?” the little girl very innocently asked the Sphinx. “My father and your father are one and the same. However, I do have a brother who has stood as my mirror throughout time on the opposite horizon. It is I who faces east, but it is he who faces west. I am the recorder of yesterday and he holds the records of tomorrow. I am the positive, and he is my negative. I carry the right eye of the sun and he carries the left eye of the moon. He keeps his eye on the underworld and I keep an eye on the world over. Together we have joined the sky and earth, and split fire and water.” Seham stood on all toes to peek over the Sphinx's shoulder for a sign of his brother. “Where is he?” she asked, her eyes still searching the open horizon. “He has yet to be uncovered, but as I stand above the sands of time, he still sleeps below. Before the descent of Adam, we have both stood as loyal Protectors of the Two Halls of Truth.” The girl asked in astonishment, “I've never heard of these halls, Abu Huwa. Where are they?” “At the end of each of our tails is a passage that will reveal to you the secrets of Time. One hall reflects a thousand truths, and the other hall reflects all that is untrue. One will speak to your heart, and the other will speak to your mind. This is why you need to use both your heart and mind to understand which one is real, and which is a distorted illusion created to misguide those that have neglected their conscience. Both passageways connect you to the Great Hall of Records.” “What is the Hall of Records?” “The Great Pyramid, my child. It is as multidimensional in its shape as it is in its purpose. Every layer and every brick marks the coming of a prophet, the ascension of evil, or another cycle of man. It contains the entire history and future of mankind. And, as is above, so is below. Above ground, it serves as the most powerful energy source to harmonize and power the world! The shape of the pyramid above ground is also the same image mirrored beneath it. Underground, it serves as a powerful well and drain. This is really why Egypt is called the Land of Two Lands. There exists a huge world of its own underneath the plateau, a world within worlds. Large amounts of gold, copper and mercury were once housed here, including the secrets of Time, the 100th name of He Who Is All, and a gift from Truth that still awaits to be discovered. It sleeps with Time in the Great Pyramid, hidden away in a lower shaft that leads to the stars.” Dialogue from 'The Little Girl and the Sphinx' by Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (Dar-El Shams, 2010)

KNOWN ABILITIES: Empath [DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING ELSE MY MOM TELLS YOU] RESIDENCE: The Shores of Solace and Candleshade [ANYONE WANNA TRADE LIVES WITH ME?] IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Lord Cassius Sencen (father); Lady Gisela Sencen (mother) [AKA: WORST. PARENTS. EVER!] MATCH STATUS: Unregistered [TRY NOT TO BE TOO HEARTBROKEN, PEOPLE] [THOUGH I GOTTA SAY: I DON’T REALLY GET WHY EVERYONE PAYS SO MUCH ATTENTION TO THIS.] EDUCATION: Current Foxfire prodigy [AND PROUD DETENTION RECORD–HOLDER] NEXUS: No longer required [BECAUSE I’M COOL LIKE THAT] PATHFINDER: Not assigned. Restricted to Leapmasters and home crystals. [HA, THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK!] SPYBALL APPROVAL: None [BUT I HAVE FRIENDS WITH CONNECTIONS, THAT’S ALL I’M SAYING.…] MEMBER OF THE NOBILITY: No [THANK GOODNESS] TITLE: None [UM, HELLO, WHAT ABOUT LORD HUNKYHAIR? THAT’S A THING!] NOBLE ASSIGNMENT: None [MASTER MISCHIEF-MAKER] SIGNIFICANT CONNECTIONS: Fealty-sworn member of the Black Swan; former Wayward at Exillium; son to one of the leaders of the Neverseen [SWORN PROTECTOR OF THE MYSTERIOUS MISS F] ASSIGNED BODYGUARD(S): Ro (ogre) [AND SHE KNOWS, LIKE, 500,000 WAYS TO KILL YOU! SO IT’S REALLY NOT A GOOD IDEA TO MESS WITH US!]

Communism — ladies and gentlemen, I say it without flinching: communism in eastern Europe, Russia, China, Mongolia, North Korea, and Cuba brought land reform and human services; a dramatic bettering of the living conditions of hundreds of millions of people on a scale never before or never since witnessed in human history, and that's something to appreciate. Communism transformed desperately poor countries into societies in which everyone had adequate food, shelter, medical care, and education, and some of us who come from poor families who carry around the hidden injuries of class are very impressed; are very, very impressed by these achievements and are not willing to dismiss them as economistic. To say that socialism doesn't work is to overlook the fact that it did work and it worked for hundreds of millions of people. 'But what about the democratic rights that they lost?' We hear U.S. leaders talking about 'restoring' democracy to the communist countries, but these countries—with the exception of Czechoslovakia—were not democracies before communism. Russia was a Czarist autocracy; Poland was a right-wing fascist dictatorship under Piłsudski, with concentration camps of its own; Albania was an Italian fascist protectorate as early as 1927; Cuba was a U.S.-sponsored dictatorship under that butcher Batista; Lithuania, Hungary, Romania, and Bulgaria were outright fascist regimes openly allied with Nazi Germany in World War 2. So, what—exactly what democracy are we talking about restoring? The socialist countries did not take away any rights that didn't exist there in the first place.

Dodd seemed unaware that he might be conjuring forces that could endanger his career. Rather he delighted in pricking the clubby sensibilities of his opponents. With clear satisfaction he told his wife, “Their chief protector”—presumably he meant Phillips or Welles—“is not a little disturbed. If he attacks it certainly is not in the open.

At that moment I heard the steps of my younger protectors. I had not a moment to lose, but, seizing the hand of the old man, I cried, "Now is the time! Save and protect me! You and your family are the friends whom I seek. Do not desert me in the hour of trial!" '"Great God!" exclaimed the old man, "who are you?" 'At that instant the cottage door opened...

It’s part of a woman’s hypergamous nature to always seek the best male that she could get. Warring tribe wins? Then the men in that tribe now become her best option for survival. Men have always been disposable protectors. Women have always selected the best men for survival. Even if that meant becoming a war bride to a conquering army that killed off, or enslaved, their family.

Our Nubian ancestors were the custodians, protectors, preservers and teachers of everything good that has been associated with Kemet. All conquerors and oppressors know that they cannot oppress a culturally and politically conscious people. What’s more important is that you realize it and always strive to uplift the community of self and then your respective family and community at large.

For some people, coming to realize that their protectors are not their Self is like discovering that what they thought all their life was their hair is really a wig. Many of us are so identified with certain protectors that we can’t tell when they have taken over. For example, when my ex-wife, Nancy, would say something critical of me, I would defend myself in a calm, logical way that, to me, seemed to be coming from my Self.

4.​They can cause a lot of damage to your body and your life. Because they’re frozen in dreadful scenes in the past and carry burdens from those times, they will do whatever they need to do to get your attention when you won’t listen: punish you or others, convince others to take care of them, sabotage your plans, or eliminate people in your life they see as a threat. To do these things and more, they can exacerbate or give you physical symptoms or diseases, nightmares and strange dreams, emotional outbursts, and chronic emotional states. Indeed, most of the syndromes that make up the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual are simply descriptions of the different clusters of protectors that dominate people after they’ve been traumatized. When you think of those diagnoses that way, you feel a lot less defective and a lot more empowered to help those protectors out of those roles.

Tess . . . ,” I say slowly, trying to figure out the best way to express what I’m feeling. Hell, I’ve said so many stupid things to her in the past. “I love you. No matter what happens between us.” Tess wraps her arms around her knees. “I know.” I swallow hard and look down. “But I don’t love you the way you want me to. I’m sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression. I don’t think I’ve ever treated you as well as you deserve.” My heart twists painfully as the words leave my mouth, striking her as they go. “So don’t be sorry. It’s my fault, not yours.”“Tess shakes her head. “I know you don’t love me that way. Don’t you think I know that by now?” A note of bitterness enters her voice. “But you don’t know how I feel about you. No one does.” I give her a level look. “Tell me, then.” “Day, you mean more to me than some crush.” Her brows furrow as she tries to explain herself. “When the entire world turned its back on me and left me to die, you took me in. You were the one person who cared about what might happen to me. You were everything. Everything. You became my entire family—you were my parents and my siblings and my caretaker, my only friend and companion, you were both my protector and someone who needed protecting. You see? I didn’t love you in the way you might’ve thought I did, although I can’t deny that was part of it. But the way I feel goes beyond that.

Why Trump, many wondered, including many evangelicals themselves. For decades, the Religious Right had been kindling fear in the hearts of American Christians. It was a tried-and-true recipe for their own success. Communism, secular humanism, feminism, multilateralism, Islamic terrorism, and the erosion of religious freedom—evangelical leaders had rallied support by mobilizing followers to fight battles on which the fate of the nation, and their own families, seemed to hinge. Leaders of the Religious Right had been amping up their rhetoric over the course of the Obama administration. The first African American president, the sea change in LGBTQ rights, the apparent erosion of religious freedom—coupled with looming demographic changes and the declining religious loyalty of their own children—heightened the sense of dread among white evangelicals. But in truth, evangelical leaders had been perfecting this pitch for nearly fifty years. Evangelicals were looking for a protector, an aggressive, heroic, manly man, someone who wasn’t restrained by political correctness or feminine virtues, someone who would break the rules for the right cause. Try as they might—and they did try—no other candidate could measure up to Donald Trump when it came to flaunting an aggressive, militant masculinity. He became, in the words of his religious biographers, “the ultimate fighting champion for evangelicals.” 6

Fathers, you cannot delegate your duty as the head of the home. Mothers, rear your children in righteousness-do not attempt to save the world and let your own fireside fall apart. A 'Home Evening' once a week where parents and children can all be together to discuss matters, exhibit their talents, enjoy inspiring reading and have some recreation, is a good protector against the breakdown of the family. The duty of parents is to be of help to each other and to their children-then comes their duty to their neighbors, community, nation, and world-in that order.

This burden makes them toxic—parts of ourselves that we need to deny at all costs. Because they are locked away inside, IFS calls them the exiles. At this point other parts organize to protect the internal family from the exiles. These protectors keep the toxic parts away, but in so doing they take on some of the energy of the abuser. Critical and perfectionistic managers can make sure we never get close to anyone or drive us to be relentlessly productive. Another group of protectors, which IFS calls firefighters, are emergency responders, acting impulsively whenever an experience triggers an exiled emotion.

A controlling relationship can start with over-the-top romantic gestures and gifts, and great protestations of you ‘being the only one’ and their love being a special kind of ‘you and me against the world’, often disconcertingly early in a relationship. There may be a charm campaign aimed at you and even friends and family, your other potential allies and ‘protectors’. Suddenly or gradually there are rules, or flashes of mystifying rage or sulking designed to modify your behaviour to what they want you to do. Then the ‘nice’ person reappears, and all is well, he’s romantic and doting again, before the next flashpoints of anger or rage or sullen tension. This is not a ‘return to the good times’. It’s the classic cycle of abuse, recognised

The lie [of compulsory female heterosexuality] is many-layered. In Western tradition, one layer—the romantic—asserts that women are inevitably, even if rashly and tragically, drawn to men; that even when that attraction is suicidal (e. g, Tristan and Isolde, Kate Chopin’s ‘The Awakening’) it is still an organic imperative. In the tradition of the social sciences it asserts that primary love between the sexes is ‘normal,’ that women need men as social and economic protectors, for adult sexuality, and for psychological completion; that the heterosexually constituted family is the basic social unit; that women who do not attach their primary intensity to men must be, in functional terms, condemned to an even more devastating outsiderhood than their outsiderhood as women.

The civil law, as well as nature herself, has always recognized a wide difference in the respective spheres and destinies of man and woman. Man is, or should be, woman's protector and defender...The constitution of the family organization, which is founded in the divine ordinance, as well as in the nature of things, indicates the domestic sphere as that which properly belongs to the domain and functions of womanhood. The harmony, not to say identity, of interests and views which belong, or should belong, to the family institution is repugnant to the idea of a woman adopting a distinct and independent career from that of her husband...The paramount destiny and mission of women are to fulfil the noble and benign offices of wife and mother. This is the law of the Creator. 1872

From 1992 to 1997, TAT [Treating Abuse Today] under my editorship published several articles by a number of respected professionals who seriously questioned the false memory syndrome (FMS) hypothesis and the methodology, ethics, and assertions of those who were rapidly pushing the concept into the public consciousness. During that time, not one person from the FMS movement contacted me to refute the specific points made in the articles or to present any research that would prove even a single case of this allegedly “epidemic” syndrome. Instead of a reasoned response to the published articles, for nearly three years proponents of the so-called FMS hypothesis–including members, officials, and supporters of the False Memory Syndrome Foundation, Inc. (FMSF)–have waged a campaign of harassment, defamation, and psychological terrorism against me, my clients, staff, family, and other innocent people connected with me. These clearly are intended to (a) intimidate me and anyone associated with me; (b) terrorize and deter access to my psychotherapy clients; (c) encumber my resources; and (d) destroy my reputation publicly, in the business community, among my professional colleagues, and within national and international professional organizations. Before describing this highly orchestrated campaign, let me emphasize that I have never treated any member of this group or their families, and do not have any relationships to any of my counseling clients. Neither have I consulted to their cases nor do I bear any relation to the disclosures of memories of sexual abuse in their families. I had no prior dealings with any of this group before they began showing up at my offices with offensive and defamatory signs early in 1995. Ethics and Behavior, 8(2) pp. 161-187

And yes, many of us became fathers to fully understand what it means to be a father. Albert Einstein once said: "Every man is a genius but if you judge a fish by its ability to climb trees, it will spend the rest of its life believing that its stupid." To the men who never let other people’s metrics of success become the yardstick with which they measure theirs. It is no coincidence that we are diagrammatically represented by a circle with an arrow on the edge that points out. To all of us who may not always be "there" so that we can always "be there", To every hunter, every fighter, every missionary, To every planter and tiller of a garden of eden, To every warrior, conqueror of territories, every man always going out so he can bring something home. To every provider and protector of his family. Every defender of his domain and representative of God in the lives of his dependants. To every man that choose character over caliber, Every Major General, Lord of the Rings, Lion of the Tribe of his house. To every correcter with a shout, Every tough and tender 9-ribbed carrier of his cross. For every skill, strength, qualification and effort that we put into building meaningful relationships with our women, bonds with our children, and shield through tough times. For every ‘crave’ for success without substituting values. For the unconditional love, unflinching sacrifice, and diehard determination to go places our parents never imagined for themselves. To those who happily lead, as though money, fame and power didn’t exist. To those who stand tall and sit straight, Who understand that it doesn't take a 6-figure to be a Father figure. Happy Father's Day to every man who understands the responsibility and deserves the title. *Happy Father's Day to You and Me.*

But this was worse than personal. This was about Louise, alias Anemone, cut up on a surgical platter, about Elizabeth Elliott stabbed to death and too poor to be resleeved, Irene Elliott, weeping for a body that a corporate rep wore on alternate months, Victor Elliott, whiplashed between loss and retrieval of someone who was and yet was not the same woman. This was about a young black man facing his family in a broken-down, middle-aged white body; it was about Virginia Vidaura walking disdainfully into storage with her head held high and a last cigarette polluting lungs she was about to lose, no doubt to some other corporate vampire. It was about Jimmy de Soto, clawing his own eye out in the mud and fire at Innenin, and the millions like him throughout the Protectorate, painfully gathered assemblages of individual human potential, pissed away into the dung heap of history. For all these, and more, someone was going to pay.

A powerful man Inspired by my beloved uncle Elliot Lubisi Powerful is a man who respects his role of being a provider, a protector and a peacemaker in the family. A man who understands what it means to lead. A man who knows how to show others the right direction, and ensure he follows it too. He who does not just talk talk talk, but walks the talk. A powerful man may not have a stable income. He may not drive the latest car. He may not stay in a posh island. He may not own the most expensive yatch. But, he’s got something that cannot be taken away. A powerful man has a good plan. Even if he fails, he will still make another plan. If he fails again, he will continue to make a plan until he prospers, because he is a powerful man. Nothing will ever stand in his way to success. The world needs powerful men who can help raise powerful children and build powerful countries. This planet in a dire need of kind, wise, fearless and honest men.

The archaeologists who made the study noted that ‘Southern Indian ancestry was estimated at 42–49%’ for the Cambodian individual whose remains they were studying. They identified ‘Irula, Mala, and Vellalar’ caste types as the most likely South Asian contributors to the ancient individual’s genome. These are all specifically low-caste non-Brahmin groups. It appears that we are dealing with the emigration of a large and socially varied group of Indian individuals, leading to intermarriage with Cambodians and the emergence of mixed-marriage families. This implies a varied mercantile diaspora rather than just the boatloads of literate Brahmins who record their own presence on inscriptions. It also helps explain the presence of non-Vedic, non-Brahmanical Tamil folk and village guardian deities like Aiyanar turning up from the beginning in shrines across the region, where he seems to have been worshipped as the Protector of Travellers and the Night Guardian of Reservoirs

Progressives today are quick to fault “America” for slavery and a host of other outrages. America did this, America did that. As we will see in this book, America didn’t do those things, the Democrats did. So the Democrats have cleverly foisted their sins on America, and then presented themselves as the messiahs offering redemption for those sins. It’s crazy, but it’s also ingenious. We have to give them credit for ingenuity. The second whitewash is to portray the Civil War entirely in terms of the North versus the South. The North is supposedly the anti-slavery side and the South is the pro-slavery side. A recent example is Ta-Nehisi Coates’s article about the Confederate battle flag in The Atlantic.3 Now of course there is an element of truth in this, in that the Civil War was fought between northern states and southern states. But this neat and convenient division ignores several important details. First, the defenders of the Confederate cause were, almost without exception, Democrats. Coates cites many malefactors from Senator Jefferson Davis to Senator James Henry Hammond to Georgia Governor Joseph Brown. Yet while identifying these men as southerners and Confederates, Coates omits to identify them as Democrats. Second, Coates and other progressives conveniently ignore the fact that northern Democrats were also protectors of slavery. We will see in this chapter how Stephen Douglas and other northern Democrats fought to protect slavery in the South and in the new territories. Moreover, the southerners who fought for the Confederacy cannot be said to have fought merely to protect slavery on their plantations. Indeed, fewer than one-third of white families in the South on the eve of the Civil War had slaves. Thus the rigid North-South interpretation of the Civil War conceals—and is intended to conceal—the active complicity of Democrats across the country to save, protect, and even extend the “peculiar institution.” As the Charleston Mercury editorialized during the secession debate, the duty of the South was to “rally under the banner of the Democratic Party which has recognized and supported . . . the rights of the South.”4 The real divide was between the Democratic Party as the upholder of slavery and the Republican Party as the adversary of slavery. All the figures who upheld and defended American slavery—Senators John C. Calhoun and Stephen Douglas, President James Buchanan, Supreme Court Chief Justice Roger Taney, architect of the Dred Scott decision, and the main leaders of the Confederacy—were Democrats. All the heroes of black emancipation—from the black abolitionists Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass, to the woman who organized the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman, to the leader whose actions finally destroyed American slavery, Abraham Lincoln—were Republicans. It is of the utmost importance to progressive propagandists to conceal or at least ignore this essential historical truth.

Joe metió la mamo en el bolsillo trasero de sus pantalones vaqueros y sacó una hoja de papel doblada de un cuaderno de espiral. -Aquí hay una lista de cosas que necesitaras. Lo anoté en el estacionamiento. Keri desdobló el papel y leyó la lista dos veces, tratando de tener una idea de lo que de ella se esperaba. TRAER: Repelente de insectos, vaqueros, camisetas, sudaderas varias, al menos una con capucha, una camisa de franela (obligatoria), pijamas (opcional), ropa interior (también opcional); traje de baño (de preferencia escaso), más repelente de insectos, zapatillas de deporte, botas impermeables, buenos calcetines, protector solar, dos rollos de cuartos de dólar. NO TRAER: Teléfono celular, BlackBerry, computadora portátil, cámara, ya sea fija o de video, reloj alarma, grabadora de voz, y cualquier otro tipo de componente electrónico. Ella no tenia idea de lo que esto significaba, que no fuera otra que Joe la quería media desnuda e incapaz de enviar mensajes de texto por ayuda.

By nature and by training this woman was all for conservation of life. She had been brought up in rather a strict and narrow school. In her day although no one, certainly no woman, was expected to save humanity, every female was confidently expected to produce it. More than that, she was earnestly enjoined to guard and protect it. So Mary Ball and her successor Mary Washington, early imbibed not only a sense of the woman's responsibility for the family but a sense of her authority over it....At any rate, in this particular crisi she was merely obeying a law of nature as old as womanhood--to protect the creature she had brought into the world. There was no subtlety in her. She could not see the finer shadings of ths situation, the fact that in holding him back from the frontier she might be putting him into even greater peril. Her course was prompted by instinct and impulse, and she never thought of questioning the right or wrong of it. So, armed with the most primitive of all weapons, she faced her son for a hard fight. But she was pitted here against a temendous paradox. With her whole might she was resisting the demands of war, and yet it had been that very strength that had produced the warrior. Her opponent was remarkably like her--in strength of mind and body, in resolution, in force of will. Now, it is one of the ironies of life that sameness creates opposition. In the conflict that day at Mount Vernon, therefore, the contestants were fighting with identical weapons, even though from different spheres... George Washington must have been a very patient man. And if he had patience, that, too, came from her by that same theory of heredity that makes a firstborn son peculiarly like his mother. So this must be written in to her credity when for the third time she has to be recorded as trying to interrupt his destiny. As a last resort he used a weapon that she herself had put into his hand. Madam," he is said to have remarked with respectful finality, "the God to whom you commended me when first I went to war will be my protector stil.

I have practiced psychotherapy, family therapy, and hypnotherapy for over 25 years without a single board complaint or law suit by a client. For over three years, however, a group of proponents of the false memory syndrome (FMS) hypothesis, including members, officials, and supporters of the False Memory Syndrome Foundation, Inc., have waged a multi-modal campaign of harassment and defamation directed against me, my clinical clients, my staff, my family, and others connected to me. I have neither treated these harassers or their families, nor had any professional or personal dealings with any of them; I am not related in any way to the disclosures of memories of sexual abuse in these families. Nonetheless, this group disrupts my professional and personal life and threatens to drive me out of business. In this article, I describe practicing psychotherapy under a state of siege and places the campaign against me in the context of a much broader effort in the FMS movement to denigrate, defame, and harass clinicians, lecturers, writers, and researchers identified with the abuse and trauma treatment communities….

I told him he must carry it thus. It was evident the sagacious little creature, having lost its mother, had adopted him for a father. I succeeded, at last, in quietly releasing him, and took the little orphan, which was no bigger than a cat, in my arms, pitying its helplessness. The mother appeared as tall as Fritz. I was reluctant to add another mouth to the number we had to feed; but Fritz earnestly begged to keep it, offering to divide his share of cocoa-nut milk with it till we had our cows. I consented, on condition that he took care of it, and taught it to be obedient to him. Turk, in the mean time, was feasting on the remains of the unfortunate mother. Fritz would have driven him off, but I saw we had not food sufficient to satisfy this voracious animal, and we might ourselves be in danger from his appetite. We left him, therefore, with his prey, the little orphan sitting on the shoulder of his protector, while I carried the canes. Turk soon overtook us, and was received very coldly; we reproached him with his cruelty, but he was quite unconcerned, and continued to walk after Fritz. The little monkey seemed uneasy at the sight of him, and crept into Fritz's bosom, much to his inconvenience. But a thought struck him; he tied the monkey with a cord to Turk's back, leading the dog by another cord, as he was very rebellious at first; but our threats and caresses at last induced him to submit to his burden. We proceeded slowly, and I could not help anticipating the mirth of my little ones, when they saw us approach like a pair of show-men. I advised Fritz not to correct the dogs for attacking and killing unknown animals. Heaven bestows the dog on man, as well as the horse, for a friend and protector. Fritz thought we were very fortunate, then, in having two such faithful dogs; he only regretted that our horses had died on the passage, and only left us the ass. "Let us not disdain the ass," said I; "I wish we had him here; he is of a very fine breed, and would be as useful as a horse to us." In such conversations, we arrived at the banks of our river before we were aware. Flora barked to announce our approach, and Turk answered so loudly, that the terrified little monkey leaped from his back to the shoulder of its protector, and would not come down. Turk ran off to meet his companion, and our dear family soon appeared on the opposite shore, shouting with joy at our happy return. We crossed at the same place as we had done in the morning, and embraced each other. Then began such a noise of exclamations. "A monkey! a real, live monkey! Ah! how delightful! How glad we are! How did you catch him?

He had no desire to form attachments to people. That would have required more trust and intimacy than he could summon. But he did care for all the Hathaway brood, even Leo. And then there was Win, for whom Kev would have died a thousand times over. He would never degrade Win with his touch, or dare to assume a place in her life other than as a protector. She was too fine, too rare. As she grew into womanhood, every man in the county was enthralled by her beauty. Outsiders tended to view Win as an ice maiden, neat and unruffled and cerebral. But outsiders knew nothing of the sly wit and warmth that lurked beneath her perfect surface. Outsiders hadn't seen Win teaching Poppy the steps to a quadrille until they had both collapsed to the floor in giggles. Or frog-hunting with Beatrix, her apron filled with leaping amphibians. Or the droll way she read a Dickens novel with an array of voices and sounds, until the entire family howled at her cleverness. Kev loved her. Not in the way that novelists and poets described. Nothing so tame. He loved her beyond earth, heaven, or hell. Every moment out of her company was agony; every moment with her was the only peace he had ever known. Every touch of her hands left an imprint that ate down his soul. He would have killed himself before admitting it to anyone. The truth was buried deep within his heart.

The classic host personality, which usually (over 50% of the time) presents for treatment, nearly always bears the legal name and is depressed, anxious, somewhat neurasthenic, compulsively good, masochistic, conscience-stricken, constricted hedonically, and suffers both psychophysioiogical symptoms and time loss and/or time distortion. While no personality types are invariably present, many are encountered quite frequently: childlike personalities (fearful. recalling traumata, or love-seeking), protectors, helpers-advisors, inner self-helpers (serene, rational, and objective helpers and advisors first described by Allison in 1974), personalities with distinct affective states, guardians of memories and secrets (and of family boundaries), memory traces (holding continuity of memory), inner persecutors (often based on identification with the aggressor), anesthetic personalities (created to block out pain), expressers of forbidden impulses (pleasurable and otherwise, such as defiant, aggressive, or antisocial), avengers (which express anger over abuses endured and may wish to redress their grievances), defenders or apologists for the abusers, those based on lost love objects and other introjections and identifications, specialized encapsulators of traumatic experiences and powerful affects, very specialized personalities, and those (often youthful) that preserve the idealized potential for happiness, growth, and the healthy expression of feelings (distorted by traumata) in others (Kluft, 1984b).

Monday, January 26 Be Strong and Courageous “So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before them! For the LORD your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you.” DEUTERONOMY 31:6 NLT In The Horse and His Boy, one of the books in the Narnia series by C. S. Lewis, we see a beautiful picture of how the Lord gives us strength and courage to do His will. The boy, Shasta, runs away from home. Along the way he meets up with a talking horse from Narnia and a nobly born girl, Aravis, with her talking horse. They decide to take their horses to Narnia, but their plans fall apart when they have to go through the Calormene capitol city, Tashbaan. Several times as they travel, they are chased by lions, harassed by cats, and generally persecuted by various members of the cat family. Finally, on one particularly dark night, Shasta crosses over a mountain pass alone. In the dark and fog Shasta senses rather than sees a creature walking along beside him. And he’s terrified. Later, when he meets Aslan, Shasta learns that all the cats were Aslan, guiding them, pushing them, and yes, terrifying them into doing what they needed to do. Aslan was also his protector as he crossed the steep and dangerous mountain pass in the dark. Shasta is angry until he realizes that Aslan did everything out of love, even hurting Aravis when her pride was keeping them from the mission they’d been given. Father, thank You for the beautiful picture of Your protection and courage to those who are Yours.

The very concept of fathers as protectors is so politically incorrect that researchers must hedge their findings with politically acceptable weasel words: “The protective effect from the father’s presence in most households was sufficiently strong to offset the risk incurred by the few paternal perpetrators.” In fact, the risk of “paternal perpetrators” is miniscule. While men are assumed more likely to commit sexual than physical abuse,333 sexual abuse is much less common than severe physical abuse and is almost entirely perpetrated by boyfriends and stepfathers (who are falsely classified as “fathers” in most statistical studies). Yet feminists would have us believe that father-daughter incest is rampant, and feminist child protection agents implement this propaganda as policy, rationalizing the forced removal of fathers and creating the very problem they claim to be solving. “An anti-male attitude is often found in documents, statements, and in the writings of those claiming to be experts in cases of child sexual abuse.” These scholars document techniques by social service agencies to systematically teach children to hate their fathers, including inculcating in the children a message that the father has sexually molested them. “The professionals use techniques that teach children a negative and critical view of men in general and fathers in particular,” they write. “The child is repeatedly reinforced for fantasizing throwing Daddy in jail and is trained to hate and fear him.” From the father’s perspective, the real child abusers have thrown him out of the family so they can abuse his children with impunity.

Type II trauma also often occurs within a closed context - such as a family, a religious group, a workplace, a chain of command, or a battle group - usually perpetrated by someone related or known to the victim. As such, it often involves fundamental betrayal of the relationship between the victim and the perpetrator and within the community (Freyd, 1994). It may also involve the betrayal of a particular role and the responsibility associated with the relationship (i.e., parent-child, family member-child, therapist-client, teacher-student, clergy-child/adult congregant, supervisor-employee, military officer-enlisted man or woman). Relational dynamics of this sort have the effect of further complicating the victim's survival adaptations, especially when a superficially caring, loving or seductive relationship is cultivated with the victim (e.g., by an adult mentor such as a priest, coach, or teacher; by an adult who offers a child special favors for compliance; by a superior who acts as a protector or who can offer special favors and career advancement). In a process labelled "selection and grooming", potential abusers seek out as potential victims those who appear insecure, are needy and without resources, and are isolated from others or are obviously neglected by caregivers or those who are in crisis or distress for which they are seeking assistance. This status is then used against the victim to seduce, coerce, and exploit. Such a scenario can lead to trauma bonding between victim and perpetrator (i.e., the development of an attachment bond based on the traumatic relationship and the physical and social contact), creating additional distress and confusion for the victim who takes on the responsibility and guilt for what transpired, often with the encouragement or insinuation of the perpetrator(s) to do so.

CICLU SEPTENAR (PRIMUL PĂTRAT DE 4 x 7): Un destin uman evoluează în cicluri de şapte ani. Fiecare ciclu se termină cu o criză care face trecerea la etapa superioară. De la 0 la 7 ani. Legătură puternică cu mama. Teamă orizontală de lume. Construirea simţurilor. Mirosul mamei, laptele mamei, vocea mamei, căldura mamei, sărutările mamei sunt primele referinţe. Perioada se termină în general prin crăparea coconului protector al iubirii materne şi descoperirea mai mult sau mai puţin temătoare a restului lumii. De la 7 la 14 ani. Legătură puternică cu tatăl. Teamă verticală de lume. Construirea personalităţii. Tatăl devine noul partener privilegiat, aliatul pentru descoperirea lumii din afara coconului familial. Tatăl măreşte coconul familial protector. Tatăl se impune ca referinţă. Mama era iubită, tatăl va trebui să fie admirat. De la 14 la 21 de ani. Revoltă împotriva societăţii. Teamă de materie. Construirea intelectului. E criza adolescentului. Vrei să schimbi lumea şi să distrugi structurile prezente. Tînărul atacă coconul familial, apoi societatea în general. Adolescentul este sedus de tot ce este „rebel”: muzică violentă, atitudine romantică, dorinţă de independenţă, fugă de acasă, legătură cu bande de tineri care trăiesc la marginea societăţii, adeziune la valorile anarhiste, negarea sistematică a vechilor valori. Perioada se termină cu o ieşire din coconul familial. De la 21 la 28 de ani. Adeziune la societate. Stabilizare după revoltă. Pentru că nu ai reuşit să distrugi lumea, te integrezi în ea, avînd la început dorinţa de a face mai bine decît generaţia precedentă. Căutarea unei meserii mai interesante decît cea a părinţilor. Căutarea unui loc de viaţă mai interesant decît cel al părinţilor. Tentativa de a realiza un cuplu mai fericit decît cel al părinţilor. Alegi un (o) partener(ă) şi întemeiezi un cămin. Construieşti propriul cocon. Perioada se termină în general cu o căsătorie. Acum omul şi-a îndeplinit misiunea şi a terminat cu primul său cocon protector. SFÎRŞITUL PRIMULUI PĂTRAT DE 4 x 7 ANI. Edmond Wells, Enciclopedia cunoaşterii relative şi absolute, volumul IV

Answers to open-ended questions. When you invite someone to tell you about his family or her job, you will receive additional free information that you can use to further the conversation. Suppose you ask me, Debra, how is it that you worked in product planning for AT&T? and I say, I was in R&D in Buffalo, New York, where I’m from, and I hated it. I hated being an engineer—they don’t even make pocket protectors for women! So I asked to be transferred anywhere. They brought me to Denver to work in product planning. I offered lots of free information: I’m from Buffalo, I was in R&D (research and development), and I hated being an engineer. You can choose any of that free information to find out more about what interests you the most. You could facilitate the conversation by asking any one of a dozen questions, including: •Are the winters in Buffalo really as bad as they say? •Why didn’t you like being an engineer? •Would it have made a difference in your career if there had been pocket protectors for women? •What is it like to do R&D for a corporation like AT&T? •Was it tough living with a perennial Super Bowl loser? •Where did you study engineering?

Because we’re going to be a family of our own. You, me, Carven, and London…and…” I held his stare. “And our baby.” His eyes widened. Deep breaths sucked in all the air before he whispered, “Baby?” “Yes, my protector…our baby.

When I was Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the wild, protector of the young—not this person who couldn’t even force a magic to reveal what it hid. Not this person who couldn’t find the one family that could potentially save my brother. Save me.

When Bond was born he personified an aspect of male identity that was prevalent after the war that of the protector. Man saw their role as being the one to protect their families from external threats. An ability to resort to violence when necessary was part of this. Meaning that emotionally men had to harden and reduce their empathy. The role of protector is an aspect of male identity that is now less necessary. The great majority of men go through their lives without ever having to fight and those who use violence against others are no longer admired or tolerated. It is the lack of love, particularly in childhood, that can lead to the toxic behaviour and violence that we need to protect ourselves against. Craig’s Bond gradually learned that his armour hurt and isolated him as much as it protected. He came at the end of five film arc to open himself up, leave himself vulnerable and accept the consequences. This was necessary he finally understood, even though it will lead to his death.

Since the family structure already fulfilled the roles the government wanted to take on, the government had to weaken the family. Throughout history, parents have played a myriad of crucial roles in the lives of their children. They have been consistent providers, ensuring that their children's needs are met. They have acted as protectors, always keeping their children's wellbeing at the forefront of their minds. Additionally, parents have served as educators, imparting valuable knowledge and skills to their children. These are just a few examples of the countless essential responsibilities that parents have shouldered.

I drink in the pure, unshakeable essence of Kade. Our protector and leader, the man who secured our family’s freedom from those who tore us apart. As long as we have him by our side, I know we’ll always be safe. I can’t protect those I love from the demons of this world alone.

Self-led individuals have the great pleasure of recapturing all the energy their protectors used to expend on inhibition, containment, distraction, and rebellion.

The UN is not the protector of Syrians in Syria—they are under the protection of the state,” said El Hillo, who worked from a suite at the Four Seasons

The Sun is also a protector of the house, so that a good array of Sun symbols created about the home would guard and guide the family. These too should be of the Sun in motion, such as a ‘walking’ Sun embroidered on a towel, or a ‘rolling’ Sun carved on a lintel. The images themselves would be considered to contain something of the Sun’s power, so that the towel could bring healing when used to wipe the sick person’s face, and the carved Sun on the house front would help to drive away severe weather.

There is something about sibling love that is greatly overlooked due to the talk of sibling rivalry, a phenomenon characterized by competition, jealousy and fighting between brothers, between sisters, and even between a brother and a sister. An older sibling’s love for the younger sibling starts when the younger brother or sister is in the crib. That love evolves into a rivalry that can be silent or overt as the siblings grow older. But do not be mistaken by all the appearances. The older sibling subconsciously retains his or her protective instinct whenever the younger sibling pursues a dangerous path in life, just like in the old days when the younger sibling was a helpless baby and the older sibling assumed the role of a protector even without being asked to. It is that protective instinct of the older sibling that eventually overcomes his misgivings about the ways of his younger sibling.

Feminism will help my son be in a rational fellowship. To this reasonable mother, that means that he will be given permission to be wrong sometimes, to fail, to fall, to cry, to be protected rather than always being the protector, to be provided for rather than always be provider, to seek and receive wise counsel, to be chastised as much as he is cheered, to be led to wild fun, to be held and to be held responsible, to get schooled and to get laid.

Revolutionary-era legal reforms neither eradicated nor weakened the prevailing interpretation of the English common law of marriage, which characterized wives as dependents and husbands as their protectors, and accordingly endowed husbands, fathers, and masters with near-complete authority over wives, children, and bonded labor (which included people held in servitude either by contract or as a result of having been enslaved). In fact, in the postrevolutionary era, as the law increasingly rendered private households immune from governmental or judicial oversight, men actually acquired more power over their wives and other domestic dependents.

It was so overwhelming that I thought if I stayed any longer, I would end you. I can’t do that. You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere.

Blended parts give us the projections, transferences, and other twisted views that are the bread and butter of psychotherapy. The Self’s view is unfiltered by those distortions. When we’re in Self, we see the pain that drives our enemies rather than only seeing their protective parts. Your protectors only see the protectors of others. The clarity of Self gives you a kind of X-ray vision, so you see behind the other person’s protectors to their vulnerability, and in turn your heart opens to them.

The collection of parts that these traditions call the ego are protectors who are simply trying to keep us safe and are reacting to and containing other parts that carry emotions and memories from past traumas that we have locked away inside.

The critical voice that harangued Debbie Ford with so much self-loathing is an example of one common type of part called a protector, which tried to keep her from taking risks by running down her confidence. The more vulnerable inner childlike part that believed her critic and, as a consequence, felt worthless and empty is an example of a type of part I call an exile.

The inner battles between women’s caretakers and their assertive parts often built over time until, seemingly out of the blue, their assertive protectors would explode with an intensity that left their husbands stunned.

When this process of vulnerability and acceptance is mutual, couples form such a secure connection that their protectors relax, and their young parts know it’s safe to pop out at any time. You may know a couple whose relationship seems full of lively spontaneity and creative playfulness. They literally bring out the best in each other because they each know that all their parts are welcome to step into the warm, safe space between them. Their interactions have the feel of an improv ensemble, with a wide variety of characters jumping excitedly onto the stage and playing off each other.

Part 2 A Woman is a Fate? Or a bless Isn’t it fascinating to hear these wonderful journeys of a womanhood, what she goes through all her life? But, still…there is still violence, rape, molest, disrespect, humiliated, not being appreciated for all what she has done for us and what else not. So where is the mistake? The most pathetic part is, sometimes she is even discriminated by other women itself. What I have penned down, probably is just some of it that we see and hear. There are still womans out there wished they are also free from all these discrimination and come out to the world and be who they want to be. I have no personal grudges on anyone personally, but these are the truths of life I have seen with my own eyes, by own friends, and families. I pray that all these negativity will stop one day, women needs to be given a full respect and appreciate them for what they have done for us. Every mother, every daughter, every sister, every wife, every female friends, they are the universe’s blessings. A woman, is beautiful not only in her looks, but her heart, her brain and her upbringing. She is the Mahalakshmi or Saraswathi of everything. She is not someone’s fate, neither bad luck. She is also the protector of all human beings. My respect towards woman, is endless, and thank you for every one of them who have been in my life, in my happiest times and during my downfall times. A big thank you..

Was it possible, I began to wonder, that somebody had overpainted the portrait to protect it? We’ve already delved into the notion that Shakespeare might have fallen out of favor while alive or recently dead, but we know for a fact that he fell into disgrace when the Puritans gained power in 1653 under Lord Protector Cromwell and declared Shakespeare and his ilk spawn of Satan. After nailing shut the Globe and other such lairs, the Puritans started torching art. Did some Clopton hero disguise the family portrait to protect the poet from these buzzkill iconoclasts? In an 1883 lecture, the collector John Rabone stated as much: “It was suggested that the [Hunt] painting had been obscured in Puritanical times, as many portraits had been, to conceal it, as players then were in ill odour.

When each partner has courageous love for the other, many of the chronic struggles most couples face melt away because each partner is released from being primarily responsible for making the other feel good. Instead, each knows how to care for their own vulnerability, so neither has to force the other into a preconceived mold or control the other’s journey. Courageous love involves accepting all parts of the other because there is no longer a need to keep the other in the confining roles of parent/redeemer/ego booster/protector. The other senses that acceptance and freedom, which feel wonderful and unusual to them. They come to trust that they don’t have to protect themselves from you and can keep their heart open.

and other twisted views that are the bread and butter of psychotherapy. The Self’s view is unfiltered by those distortions. When we’re in Self, we see the pain that drives our enemies rather than only seeing their protective parts. Your protectors only see the protectors of others.

Blended parts give us the projections, transferences, and other twisted views that are the bread and butter of psychotherapy. The Self’s view is unfiltered by those distortions. When we’re in Self, we see the pain that drives our enemies rather than only seeing their protective parts. Your protectors only see the protectors of others.

Our national epidemic of “missing fathers” is not simply a problem of single mothers struggling without a husband. It’s also that of intact two-parent homes in which the father is morally absent from his children’s lives.

The ruler of each clan was called a chief, who was really the chief man of his family. Each clan was divided into branches who had chieftains over them. The members of the clan claimed consanguinity to the chief. The idea never entered into the mind of a Highlander that the chief was anything more than the head of the clan. The relation he sustained was subordinate to the will of the people. Sometimes his sway was unlimited, but necessarily paternal. The tribesmen were strongly attached to the person of their chief. He stood in the light of a protector, who must defend them and right their wrongs. They rallied to his support, and in defense they had a contempt for danger. The sway of the chief was of such a nature as to cultivate an imperishable love of independence, which was probably strengthened by an exceptional hardiness of character.

abuse. A controlling relationship can start with over-the-top romantic gestures and gifts, and great protestations of you ‘being the only one’ and their love being a special kind of ‘you and me against the world’, often disconcertingly early in a relationship. There may be a charm campaign aimed at you and even friends and family, your other potential allies and ‘protectors’. Suddenly or gradually there are rules, or flashes of mystifying rage or sulking designed to modify your behaviour to what they want you to do. Then the ‘nice’ person reappears, and all is well, he’s romantic and doting again, before the next flashpoints of anger or rage or sullen tension. This is not a ‘return to the good times’. It’s the classic cycle of abuse, recognised

A controlling relationship can start with over-the-top romantic gestures and gifts, and great protestations of you ‘being the only one’ and their love being a special kind of ‘you and me against the world’, often disconcertingly early in a relationship. There may be a charm campaign aimed at you and even friends and family, your other potential allies and ‘protectors’. Suddenly or gradually there are rules, or flashes of mystifying rage or sulking designed to modify your behaviour to what they want you to do. Then the ‘nice’ person reappears, and all is well, he’s romantic and doting again, before the next flashpoints of anger or rage or sullen tension. This is not a ‘return to the good times’. It’s the classic cycle of abuse,

Passivity is one of the main enemies of biblical masculinity and it’s most obvious where it’s needed most. It’s a pattern of waiting on the sidelines until you’re specifically asked to step in. Even worse than that, it can be a pattern of trying to duck out of responsibilities or to run away from challenges. Men who think conflict should be avoided, or who refuse to engage with those who would harm the body of Christ or their family, not only model passivity but fail in their responsibilities as protectors. Running to the battle means routinely taking a step toward the challenge — not away from it. Instead of running and hiding, it means running into the burning building or into any other situation that requires courage and/or strength. It means having a burden of awareness and consistently asking yourself, “Is there any testosterone needed in this situation?” That doesn’t mean being a fool who just rushes in, but simply being a leader with the instinct to go where the need is. So show leadership, protection and provision in your family, work, church, and community by consistently moving toward the action. Demonstrate your availability by consistently asking those you encounter, “Do you need anything?” Watch for needs and challenges in whatever situation you’re in and cultivate a habit of running to the battle. Keep your head Whether it was a bear attacking his sheep, Goliath looming in the distance, Saul hurling a spear at him or any other crisis David faced, he moved toward the action with calm resolve. He didn’t panic. He was a man of action and engagement. When there is a crisis, leaders don’t panic. Crisis reveals character and capacity. This is the point when true leaders are distinguished from others. So keep your head. Be anxious for nothing (Phil 4:6-7). Time is wasted while you panic. Just step forward. Be unflappable and resilient.

When we examine, not the language of the propaganda, but the witness of the combatants themselves, religion does not occupy the first place. Their motivations are more often secular: they mention their sympathy for a population reduced to poverty, the victims of the whim of ruling classes that live in luxury and corruption- rulers able to maintain themselves in power thanks only to the support of the American government ( as in Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Egypt). They speak of the members of their families or their local communities who have suffered or died by the fault of these governments ( and thus of their protectors); and they want to avenge them. The thirst for vengeance did not wait for Islam to appear in the world, and the appeal to the law of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is universal.

associate with that.” He tugged on his ear again. “So … tell me about your family. You and Jake seem very close. Do you have the same kind of relationship with your other brothers?” Happy to change the subject, Bethany launched into a brief description of her siblings. “In a large family like ours, it’s never easy being the youngest, and I think it was especially difficult being the only girl. Too many protectors. Someone was always watching after me. It took a lot of maneuvering on my part to get away with anything.” “I’m sure your folks appreciated your brothers’ efforts.

Do you ever play with yourself here?” I heard Hawke ask as he pressed against me again and flicked his finger over my hole. Anticipation had me twisting my hips in the hopes he would give me more of what I needed. But when he pulled his finger away, I let out a harsh groan. “Do you?” I

Show me.” Lust exploded in my belly as I understood what Hawke wanted and I immediately shook my head even as my brain cried out for me to do whatever he wanted. “Work that pretty hole for me, Tate,” Hawke urged and then he was pulling one of my hands from the door and covering my fingers with lube.

I only hesitated for a second before reaching my fingers behind myself to seek out my hole. I could feel Hawke’s eyes on me as I began massaging myself and a second later, his big hands split me open so he could see what I was doing. “Fuck,” Hawke, murmured as I began pressing the tip of one finger inside myself.

I began thrusting in and out of my body and I risked turning my head to watch Hawke watching me. The raw lust and fascination in his gaze was heady and I used the moment to torment him the way he’d been tormenting me. I pulled my finger completely free of my body so he could glimpse my opening before it reflexively closed, then I pushed back in. I did it over and over until I felt my muscles starting to loosen and the burn beginning to fade. I started to add a second finger, but before I could, Hawke’s thick digit was pressing into me, joining the finger I had jammed up my ass. “Shit,

You are so fucking beautiful,” Hawke snarled just before his mouth closed over mine.

You’re so beautiful, Hawke,” Tate whispered as he drew back from me a little bit. “So strong.” His eyes held mine and he shook his head just a little bit. “I ache for you,” he added and I could tell just by the open yearning in his gaze that he didn’t mean just physically. I

You’re beautiful, Tate…but that isn’t what has me wanting more of you.” I felt my stomach drop out at Hawke’s words. “You’re kind, even though all you’ve known is cruelty. You’re strong despite all the times people have tried to break you. You gave up everything for that little boy from the second you saved him and you’ve been the father he needs and deserves despite not having had that yourself. I’m in awe of you, Tate Travers.” I

Hey,” Ronan responded. “Tate, honestly, Matty’s okay. It’s just that his hair started falling out over the past couple of days and we talked him into shaving it off this morning. I wanted you to know before you saw him so it wouldn’t be so much of a surprise.” I

Didn’t Shane tell you?” she said. “Tell me what?” “He saved you, Logan.” He froze at that and cold settled like a lead weight in his gut. “What are you talking about?” She was silent for a moment and he wanted to shout at her to spit it out. “The fire,” she began. “Dom was with Shane that day of the fire.” She

I didn’t know his name,” Logan muttered stupidly. “Dom broke the window to get in. He carried you out.” He heard Savannah choke up at the memory – a memory he didn’t share because he couldn’t bring anything from that day forth. “You weren’t breathing so Dom did CPR till the paramedics arrived.” Jesus. Logan

You like it like this, don’t you baby?” I growled as I slid my cock between his cheeks. “Yes,” Tate said breathlessly as he pushed his ass against me. “Fuck me really hard, Michael.” The

Hands separated him and he felt the cool air waft over his hole before Logan’s hot tongue covered it and licked softly. “Oh God,” he yelled and he shifted up and grabbed his legs so he could watch what Logan was doing to him. The position was awkward and he could only hold it long enough to watch Logan flick his tongue back and forth over the wrinkly skin a few times before he collapsed back on the bed, his hands biting into his legs as he pulled them farther up to give Logan more room to work.

Logan’s curled tongue was pushing against him, working the saliva inside with each nudging probe. “Open for me,” Logan whispered before he was pushing again and Dom forced himself to relax and then he was bearing down and he felt Logan’s tongue breach him.

Dom leaned back over Logan and kissed him softly. “I’m going to take care of you,” he said softly. “We’re going to take care of each other.” Logan

Dom felt his whole body go hot at the sight of that little hole waiting for him and fumbled to get the baby oil open.   ***

The tip of a finger rubbed over him as Dom sucked one of his balls in, then the other. Logan groaned when he felt oil being directly applied to his opening and then the fingers were back. Dom kept alternating the torture on his balls before one finger slid all the way inside him. “Fuck,

On the next pass, a second finger joined the first and Dom’s tongue drifted down to lick the skin around his hole as the thick fingers fucked into him over and over. “Hold

Dom stopped all his movements and hung over Logan, his dark eyes glittering. “I’m going to, baby. I’m going to fuck you until you beg me to stop. Then I’m going to do it harder. And when you think you can’t take any more, I’m going to start all over again,” he promised. Logan

Turn around. Hang your head off the bed.” Cade did as he was told and bit back a moan when Rafe stepped up to him and ran his cock over Cade’s lips. “Open,” Rafe ordered. But

Rafe set and he added to it by searching out Rafe’s hole. When he brushed over the opening, Rafe’s suction increased as did the pounding his mouth was taking. His nose was buried against Rafe’s groin and he inhaled deeply, the musky scent driving him higher.

Do you think you’d want to marry me someday?” Rafe suddenly asked and Cade sucked in a sharp breath. When he realized Rafe was completely serious he felt a wide smile spread cross his lips. “Name the day,” Cade said. Rafe

Theo crossed his arms, his gaze implacable. “Oh, lady. Your entire life just changed. Accept that now.” Her head snapped up, and she stood. In her bare feet, looking up at least a foot to his hard gaze, she barely held back a telltale shiver. “Excuse me?” “You’ve been tagged like an animal to get to me and my family.” His arms uncrossed. “You stole a file that could ruin us.” He moved toward her and took both arms in his, lifting her up on her toes. “You just became my responsibility, whether you like it or not. Get on board and now.

Please, I need to come.” “Jesus,” Jagger muttered as he shifted desperately against the seat but the move provided absolutely no relief. “Should I let him come, Jagger?” “No,” Jagger said softly. “Keep him there,” he ordered. “Jagger!

Jagger…well, Jagger looked like he always did – big, overbearing, arrogant…and fucking hot.

We get him through the next few weeks. Make him feel safe enough so that he can focus on other things like seeing a professional and reaching out to his brothers. One of us is with him 24/7 for as long as it takes.” “And if he doesn’t go for it?” Declan asked. “That’s one choice he doesn’t get to make.

I want to be the first man you fuck, Finn. I want you to know what it will feel like for whatever man is lucky enough to take you someday.” Finn

Callan managed to pull back from Finn long enough to whisper, “One night Finn. Give me one night. I have no right to ask, but I need you. I need both of you,” he said, his eyes moving from Finn to Rhys. Long

I want you inside me while I’m inside him.” Finn’s eyes widened and his lips parted. The younger man’s erection was back in full force. “Callan,

Before he could process what was happening, Callan had split him open and his mouth closed over Rhys’ hole and sucked. Rhys

I need to be inside you again,” he muttered as he skimmed his hands over Rafe’s chest. “Nothing between us this time,” he said as he held up just the lube.

Cade separated their bodies enough to pull his dick free of Rafe long enough to rub it the white fluid on Rafe’s abdomen. He made sure Rafe could see their come mixing together and then he buried himself deep inside of Rafe’s body once more and just stayed there as they kissed. As

He doesn’t want to spend a night apart from you ever again,” Matty said proudly. “And he’ll see you soon.” I

I glanced at Magnus so we could continue our walk side by side and saw that his eyes were still on Dante. And Dante’s were on his. And

I got your message,” Tate said as his thumb came up to brush my jaw line and I remembered the message I’d asked Matty to give to him. “I can’t wait to marry you either,” Tate whispered and then he kissed me again. I

By the time the minister announced us as wed, I was already pulling Tate into my arms and sealing my mouth over his. I tuned out everyone else but him and me and told him with my touch the things I hadn’t been able to convey with mere words. I

Morning,” I said softly and then he was walking into my arms. “Morning,” he murmured tiredly and then he was lifting his mouth to mine. The kiss was short and sweet…and utterly perfect. “Merry Christmas, Ronan.” “Merry

I was still pissed about the sight I’d walked in on in the guest bathroom after the wedding ceremony the day before. I ignored the voice that reminded me that pissed wasn’t all I’d felt at the sight of Dante with his dick shoved down some guy’s throat. Dante

Why’d you want him?” Dante asked as he worked. “Isn’t Magneto the bad guy?” “Nah,” Matty said as he tugged at some loose tape on the box. “He’s really a good guy, but sometimes he just does bad things.” I

I’m going to marry Leo someday.” I smiled at that. “You are?” I asked. Matty nodded. “Does he want to marry you?” Another nod and then Matty was sitting up. “We talked about it. He’s my best friend like Daddy is Papa’s best friend. And I’m his.” “Okay,

Okay, is that the only reason?” Matty shook his head. “He doesn’t like broccoli and I don’t like peas.” Before I could even try to decode the odd statement, Matty said, “He’ll eat my peas and I’ll eat his broccoli.” “Ah,

Pop-pop, are you gonna get married?” “Maybe,

You could marry Dante.” I

Logan nodded. “I love you so much, Dom. As much now as then. Not more because that just isn’t possible.” I

I love you, Logan. Then, now, forever. Doesn’t matter. I will always love you.” I

El Guardia, Protector of All Living Things, to watch over my family. We

Damn it, just listen!” Jax yelled as he tightened his grip on Dane’s arms. “I realized this afternoon that I’m in love with you!

Sweat dripped down Dane’s forehead as he carefully pushed back into Jax and felt his inner walls ripple around him. Jax’s ass was an amazing sight on its own but to see his cock sliding in and out of the powerful man beneath him and hearing Jax’s little grunts every time he did it had Dane trying to stave off his orgasm.

He kept up his slow, deep rhythm as he traced his fingers down Jax’s back and over his ass. He spread Jax’s cheeks so he could watch himself disappear in and out of the other man.

Someday I want to see it,” I said with a groan as another inch filled me. “See what?” Ronan asked, his voice tight. “The moment you take me,” I said against his mouth. “It’ll be just like this but there will be a mirror behind me that I can look into while I watch you fill me.” “Jesus Christ,” Ronan snarled. “Do you like that idea?” I managed to say. “Watching your hands holding me open while your cock pushes into me?” The

Um, a friend of ours - mine and Shane’s - died this morning,” she said on a half sob. “Who?” “Sylvie Barretti.” Logan

Jagger’s nostrils flared as he licked over Declan’s mouth once more and then he pulled Ren to the edge of the bed. Ren’s eyes widened with confusion as Jagger lifted and separated Ren’s legs just before he dropped to his knees on the floor. Jagger gave Ren little time to contemplate what was about to happen but the second his tongue licked over Ren’s hole, Ren shouted his name and then his hand reached for Declan’s.   ***

Man, you really didn’t know, did you?” Shane shook his head. “Michael was in love with you.” Gabe

Who am I? I am a warrior. My physical, emotional, and spiritual self revolves around being a warrior. I believe war is a gift from God. . . . I am not a patriot or mercenary. I fight to fight. . . . I believe if you want to kill, you must be willing to die. I am willing to do both, whichever the situation calls for. I am a student of war and warriors. There will be no blood on my hands because I or my men were not prepared for battle. I will prepare for battle every single day. I will love my men as I love my own children. I will take my men places and show them things that they never believed possible. . . . I will give my life for them as readily as I kiss my children at night and put them to bed. I will be their protector and their avenger if necessary. I will always expect the impossible from them. . . . I believe in God but I do not ask for his protection in battle. I ask that I will be given the courage to die like a warrior. I pray for the safety of my men. And I pray for my enemies. I pray for a worthy enemy. . . . I believe in the wrathful god of combat. I believe in Hecate. The gods of war have received their sacrifices from me. . . . I have a huge ego. It feeds my daimon,” he said, referring to a tutelary spirit. “It is me and I am it. But I know it is there. Passion is power. Passion feeds my soul. I will seek passion out in others. . . . I am my children, my parents, my friends, my tribal family, the men I have gone into battle with, and my enemies. They reside in me. It is for them that I do battle. I want, need, and long for their acceptance. I want them to be proud of me. I will be loyal to being a warrior for all time. I will prepare a place in Valhalla for the warriors whose paths I have been blessed to cross. I will be with them in this life and the next. I am a warrior.

Can I convince you to stay here at the house with us?” I asked. “The couch pulls out.” Jace nodded. “I’d appreciate that.” I

Eli and I were planning on decorating our tree tonight,” I said as I motioned to the Christmas tree Eli and I had finally managed to pick out a few days earlier. “You guys up for helping?” I asked. Caleb sucked in a deep breath and I saw his grip on Jace finally ease. He looked at Eli and said, “I’d like that.

He knew all of my weaknesses, and he knew that the things he’d done for me had bought and paid for my absolute, unquestioning loyalty…until now. Ronan’s

Cock-blocked by a twelve-year-old,” Mace drawled. His

I beg to disagree.” I level a grave look at him. “Dane is my protector, joined to my lifeforce, bonded with me for eternity, and that means he’s my family, my everything. I protect my family, and I won’t stand by and have anyone treat any of my boys so horribly. Dane is the consummate professional, and he takes his role very seriously. If he messed up, it wasn’t on purpose, and he deserves more respect than you’re showing him right now.

beef industry, that was very good news. But a few Americans were not reassured. They weren’t convinced the USDA had done what it could to protect them. They knew that the agency’s image as a protector of consumers was part myth, because the

1967 In The Batmobile Andy and I packed into P’s 1966 Batmobile with me sitting on my Valet’s lap. The vehicle sped away as soon as we were buckled in. The prince zoomed down the deserted Abu Dhabi streets, running red lights in the city owned by his family. I broke out in a cold sweat as the speedometer leapt to 120 miles and continued to rise. Andy’s perspiring hands held me tightly while I leaned against his muscular chest for assurance. I could also feel my protector’s heart racing against my back as he pleaded despondently for P to slow, to no avail. The Arab was convinced that his Batmobile was “everything-proof” and that no harm would come to us even if we crashed into a sand dune. Off we flew at 2.00 A.M., towards Abu Dhabi airport. Andy and I had no idea where we were heading. All we had was blind trust that the reckless driver would get us there in one piece.

Daddy, look,” Matty said as he pointed to his head. “Wow, you look great,” I said with a big smile. “How are you doing?” “Good,

Ronan and Seth knew how sad I was when they said I wasn’t gonna have any hair for a while, so look.” The image teetered for a moment and when it came back into focus, I slapped my hand over my mouth in disbelief. Because there on the bed next to my son sat Ronan and Seth, their heads completely bald. “Hi!

There was no way he was going to… But that was exactly what he did. I gasped when I felt his tongue tentatively flick over my hole. I’d never had anyone do this to me before and I had no idea what to expect. I’d never even been sure it was something I wanted because the idea of someone like Reggie rimming me had been a huge turn-off. And I definitely wouldn’t have thought someone who was just starting to explore another side of his sexuality would do anything so intimate. But after the first soft caress, another one followed, then another. And it wasn’t just the tip of Hawke’s tongue that was exploring me. His whole tongue, lips, teeth, they all worked together to put me in an agonizingly blissful haze of sensual pleasure. I felt fingers drifting over my cock and balls and then Hawke fisted my shaft as he continued to play with my hole. I gripped the bedding in between my fingers as the coil of need inside of me started to grow. And then I felt it…Hawke’s tongue probing my hole more forcefully. Before I could even consider what was happening, I felt it push into me and I cried out at the sensation. Hands clamped down on my hips to hold me still, but that didn’t stop me from trying to push back farther on the tongue that was thrusting in and out of me. “Fuck,

Hawke turned me in his arms. “It’s our decision, Tate,” he said firmly. “I want us to be a family.” I

Because right after I realized that at some point Hawke had removed his wedding band and was now wearing it on a chain around his neck, I saw the new tattoo on his chest, right above Revay’s. The tattoo that was a perfect replica of the picture I’d taken so long ago of the two birds I’d hoped to one day follow to freedom.

Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe it’s just a bad dream,” he whispered. “Maybe,” she said as she stroked his hair, but she knew it wasn’t. Tears streamed down her face as she realized that the man she had fallen so deeply in love with had been raped by his own mother.   ***

The only man I hadn’t ever used condoms with had been Trace and since he’d steadfastly refused to bottom for me, I’d had no idea what to expect when I slid into Seth without the latex barrier separating us.

retribution noun ret·ri·bu·tion \ˌre-trə-ˈbyü-shən\ Punishment inflicted on someone as vengeance for a wrong or criminal act.  

He wanted another man. It

He’d fucked a man. And he’d loved it. Logan

I promise,” I said against his lips. “I’m going to make you feel so good the next time I get inside that tight hole of yours,” I vowed. Tate

I’m in love with you and Jonas.” I

Jonas suddenly lifted his eyes up to mine and held there for a moment before he lowered his upper body and placed his nose against my groin and inhaled deeply. And when his fingers closed gently around the base of my dick and his tongue flitted over the crown, I nearly wept at the relief that flooded through me.

Fuck,” I groaned as Mace’s tongue repeated the move and I managed to look over my shoulder to see Mace’s face buried between the globes of my ass, his big hands holding me open. Another gentle lick had me hanging my head and I felt Jonas’s fingers teasing a sensitive spot behind my ear. My knees began to shake under the strain of trying to hold my weight up and when I felt Mace begin licking me in long, heavy drags that started at my taint, drifted over my hole and slid up my crack, I gave up and dropped my weight on Jonas. Mace’s sinful mouth only left me for a moment before it was back. I could feel his arms on the backs of my thighs so I knew he’d shifted his position so he was lying behind me. A

I watched as Mace’s hand trailed down my chest, past my cock and around my leg to where Jonas and I were joined. Jonas let out a sharp breath at whatever Mace was doing to him and then it was my turn because Mace’s finger slid inside of me on top of Jonas’s cock. The added pressure had me closing my eyes and reaching for my cock but Mace beat me to that too because his mouth licked over my length before sucking me deep. I

Truth was, he was scared – it would be stupid not to be. But he was more scared of what it would mean if he sought the safety that Dom was offering. He

of answering him, Mace kissed him and then they came after me. Which I was perfectly fine with.

Cole’s first swipe of his tongue over my hole but it wasn’t until Mace stood up and kissed me and whispered, “Breathe,

I felt Cole settle in behind me. He went right back to kissing, sucking and licking my hole as Mace made love to my mouth.

managed to look down to see Cole putting some lube on his finger but it wasn’t until his hand disappeared down by the bedding and Mace groaned that I realized what was happening. Cole was going to fuck Mace while Mace fucked me. Mace’s

Dom leaned back to study the flesh in front of him. He was long and curved, not quite as thick as Dom, and the purple head was already leaking fluid. Dom took a quick lick, then used his hands to test the weight of Logan’s balls. “Please,

Jesus,” Logan moaned as he looked over his shoulder and saw Dom’s face buried between his cheeks. The man was tonguing him, the hot little appendage stroking and sucking on him. It was an erotic sight to watch, but his body was too overcome with how good it felt and Logan dropped his forehead on the bed. Over and over Dom played with him and moans kept escaping from Logan’s lips as he clenched his fists into the bedding. And when Dom’s tongue pushed inside him, Logan did scream and he reached for his cock in desperation. “It’s too good!” he shouted as he pumped his hips desperately into his hands.

salvation noun sal·va·tion \sal-ˈvā-shən\ The act of saving someone from sin or evil

Wrong to think that I could stay away from the young man who was forever tied to my past…a past I wanted nothing more than to forget. Did

I don’t know how to tell if it’s just a physical thing or something more,” Logan finally said. “I thought if I acted on it, I would have my answer, but I don’t.” “Yeah,

Maybe you don’t need to figure it out right away.” “Maybe,” Logan mused and then glanced at his watch again. “Go,” Gabe said as he stuffed the last bite of Logan’s pie into his mouth. “And tell Dom I said hi.”   ***

I need to be inside you again,” Logan whispered against his lips before he flicked out his tongue to trace their outline. “I want you to fuck me till you come, then I’m going to fuck you so hard that you come again.” Dom

There was nothing sweet or gentle about what was happening – it was pure, raw fucking and Dom felt tears sting his eyes at how good it felt. Logan

Dom was stuck somewhere between the realization that it was the best sex he’d ever had with anyone and that he was quickly falling in love with the man on top of him.

He’d been there since Dom had bent him over the bench, rimmed him till he’d been sobbing and begging for relief and then slammed into him from behind. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he’d loved the burn of that slick cock sliding home in one powerful thrust.

Dom had rolled him onto his back and pushed inside him, it had felt like he was home. The lovemaking had been just that…making love. There’d been no rush, no desperation. Just a slow, steady burn that Dom had stoked with probing kisses and encouraging words.

Cole murmured. “Mace, I didn’t hurt you did I?” I

Are you kidding me?” I said with a laugh. “You fucking slayed me, Cole.” I

If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed you’d done that before.” “I googled it,” Cole said. “What?” Cole chuckled. “While I was at home checking on my father, I googled a few things so I’d know what to expect.” I

When he finally stilled and I’d consumed every last drop of him, I gently pulled my finger free and crawled up his body and sealed my mouth over his. I’d purposefully kept from swallowing all of his come and I nearly smiled at his gasp of surprise when I shared his essence with him. “So sweet, Seth,” I murmured against his mouth. “So fucking sweet.

I realized the childhood love I’d had for this man had never disappeared and it never would. It had morphed into something deeper and scarier and that conclusion was more terrifying than the change my body was about to go through. Because Ronan wasn’t about to just take my virginity; he was going to take everything else too. My

I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he said, his rumbly voice barely a whisper. “It’s kept me awake at night…wondering what it would feel like to be buried inside of you. Wondering if I’d survive it.” “Survive

Your first time wondering if dick might taste just as sweet as pussy.” I

The last time I kissed someone was my wife, the day we lost our son…eight years ago.” With

It was a startling realization that I wanted them both.

I felt Jonas’s hand settle on the arm I had wrapped around Mace and I smiled because with the one move, Jonas had made sure we were all connected. Just like we were supposed to be.

Do you want this, Jonas? Do you want to see what this thing between the three of us is?” “You mean sex?” Jonas asked tentatively. I hesitated with my next words because I knew the weight they carried. I knew that saying them would change the trajectory of my life forever. I shook my head. “It would be so much more than that,” I admitted. “I can’t speak for Cole but I want everything with you, with him.” Jonas

I want us to wait for Cole,” I said. I didn’t know how to explain that despite my intense need for Jonas, it didn’t feel like enough. But when Jonas nodded, I knew he got it. “Me too,” he whispered. I

But as the day went on and Cole hadn’t returned, I’d sensed the same worry in him that was going through me. It was how I knew I was in love with both of them.