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Red flag behaviors to watch out for in witchcraft and pagan communities
Someone tries to dictate your beliefs and/or practice based on their personal experiences (aka UPG, or unverified personal gnosis).
They claim the gods will punish you if you don't go along with them.
They appeal to conspiracy theories to justify their beliefs. (See also Is the spiritual person a conspiracy theorist? A list of red flags.)
They make big, dramatic predictions (like claiming aliens will arrive on a certain date, or that the ancient gods will return and overthrow the government soon).
They claim to have a big, important role in the grand cosmic drama (like claiming they're the Archangel Michael and they're going to fight Satan, which will lead to the fall of the government).
They are extremely opposed to skepticism, critical thinking, and/or academia. Not merely critical where it's actually appropriate, but treating it like it's all pure evil.
They encourage you to cut off people who don't believe or criticize what they teach.
They are absolutely certain they can use mystical means (like astrology or tarot) to determine whether someone is a good or bad person.
They are absolutely certain they can just sense whether someone is good or bad.
They are absolutely certain they can use mystical means to find out what another person is thinking or doing.
They claim you were connected to them in a past life.
They pressure you into uncomfortable or dangerous practices.
Series Title/AU: My Baby Brother is the Strongest Character
<<read the synopsis and content warnings first>>
Pairing/Relationship: Samuel Seo x Reader, isekaid!older sister!Reader x Gun Park
Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of Samuel's backstory so child neglect and bullying, mental health troubles, mild NSFW, MDNI, dubcon (drunk kissing)
Author's Note: see, this is why I'm not supposed to be online while studying. I spent the entire day writing...
Unedited, cause yeah lol
_ (:Ⅰ」∠)
Samuel’s mother spent her days and nights in bed. She couldn’t be bothered to even wash her face, let alone cook and clean, so he learned to raise himself. He did a better job taking care of himself than most adults did. He scraped food from the garbage. Everyday, he walked barefoot to the less poor neighborhoods, where the garbage cans would have half-eaten candy bars and bread with a bit of mold. When he was a little older, he learned to find more “useful” useless things like old slippers with missing straps, clothes and accessories that were out of fashion, glass jars and bottles—he would fix and sell every single thing to anyone who would buy.
It wasn’t as bad as one would think. For Samuel, who didn’t have many friends or anything to do at home, walking a few hours and dumpster diving was fun. And he could make a bit of money for him and his mom.
Once, he found a Hero Man[1] figurine. His right arm was missing, but otherwise, the toy was still good, so Samuel wiped him clean and glued several toothpicks together to give him a prosthetic. It was his very first toy. He treated it with more care than most kids did their pet dogs, and he was very excited to share it with his classmates, who always took pleasure in excluding him in everything.
The other children made fun of him for wearing clothes that were torn open and too big, for being barefoot—and when he did have shoes, they’d tease him because they were always too “dirty” and clearly too big to be a child’s pair. They even refused to let him join them at the playground because he didn’t have anything to play with. But then, Samuel finally had his own toy, and he thought that maybe this was his chance to get the other boys to like him.
“Guys, wait!” he called out, running towards them, careful not to trip from the adult slippers he got from the garbage. He waved the figurine in the air. “Look! My…my mom got me a new toy!”
But, as he found out, him having nothing was just an excuse. The others would never see him as anything more than trash.
“I don’t believe you. My mom says that your mom never leaves the house. How can someone without any money buy anything?”
“My mom said that it’s because she’s a whore.”
“A what?”
“I dunno, mom wouldn’t tell me what that means.”
One of the boys yelled out, “Hey, that’s mine!”
Samuel protested, but they snatched the Hero Man from his hands, shoving him to the ground with force.
The kid who made the claim checked the bottom of the figurine’s feet. “I knew it! Look at the soles. Those are my initials. Your mom stole it!”
“That’s not true! We didn’t steal anything, I found it in the garbage—!”
The boys looked at each other then sneered at Samuel. They looked like grinning demons.
“A whore and a thief!”
“No wonder your dad left you guys!”
“Maybe he stole those slippers too. Hold him down, guys—”
“Stop it!”
That night, he went home barefoot, his oversized t-shirt torn and his face covered in bruises. His mom was on her bed, leaning against the wall, when he arrived. She never welcomed him home or ever cared, so he didn’t know why he felt worse when she saw his purple face and said nothing.
They didn’t have separate bedrooms, so Samuel spent the rest of the night sobbing in the bathroom.
His mother, who definitely heard him, did nothing to comfort her crying son.
That day, he realized that he was truly alone, and that no matter how much he cried, nobody would care.
***
“Did those fu—did those bastards do this to you?” you asked Samuel as you dabbed a warm, wet towel over his face.
He said nothing.
“Let’s see, I already threw rotten eggs the other day, and yesterday, what was it?”
“...crab shells.”
“Right! Rotten crab shells. Next time, I’m throwing expired milk at them.”
“Don’t do that. They’ll start calling you names, too.”
“Sticks and stones, Sammy.”
“Noona…”
You gently applied betadine over the cuts on his temple. “Yes?”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
You chuckled. “No reason.”
“There must be a reason.”
You simply hummed and finished cleaning his wounds. “Okay, you’re good as new.”
“...thank you.”
You smiled and ruffled his hair.
When you turned around, he grabbed the top of his head, trying to remember when was the last time anyone else touched him without it hurting.
***
“A-are these new?” he asked, gawking at the box of new leather shoes you got him for the holidays.
“Yup! You’re growing pretty fast so they are two sizes bigger than your actual size, so don’t forget to wear socks.”
“Th-this looks expensive.”
“It’s the right price.”
“How much did you pay?”
You shrugged.
“Noona, take these back. I-I don’t need new shoes.”
“Too late,” you said, flicking his forehead softly. “I already swallowed the receipt.”
“Then I’ll sell them and you can get the money back!”
You frowned. “You’re going to sell my gift?”
“!!!”
You laughed at his reaction. “Sammy, chill out, will you? I had some spare cash lying around and I don’t need new shoes for school. Now, put the box away. Today, I’m teaching you how to properly fry a sunny side up egg.”
You always did this. Samuel’s family was the only one who was more miserable than yours. You were both far from rich so there was no such thing as “spare cash,” and yet you had money to buy him clothes, shoes and toys, while you never seemed to get new things for yourself.
“You don’t have to do this…I don’t need shoes or clothes, a-and I don’t need food from you…” He loved receiving gifts from you. He relished in the idea of you thinking of him, but there was a voice inside that told him that he shouldn’t accept these nice things. What if you got sick of him for leeching off you? “I don’t need anything, noona. I-I just want to stay by your side.”
You put down the egg carton and said, “You once asked me why I was so nice to you, do you remember?”
He nodded. “You’re always helping me out, even when I didn’t ask for it—!”
You pinched his cheeks. “Are you calling me meddlesome?”
“No…?”
You sighed and let him go. “Do I need a reason to want to help someone?” A somber look ghosted over your face and you confessed, “I guess it’s because you remind me of my brother.” Your smile was so sad that Samuel couldn’t bring himself to ask about it.
***
The day Samuel first understood what "despair" meant was the day he learned that you were going to leave with those strange men in black suits. He thought the worst, that you were going to get sold like those other girls from the neighborhood, but you reassured him that you would be fine.
“You don’t have to come back for me, noona.” He squeezed you tightly, desperate to engrave your warmth and softness into his memory. “When I grow up, I’ll find you.”
He beat up his bullies, ruled over the middle schools in Gangseo, learned everything he could at Big Deal, met Goo Kim and formed his own information network just so he could find you again.
It took some time and a lot of money, but when he finally found you, he had his people tail you a couple of times. It is said that people change, but you remained quite the loner even as an adult. You made a point to avoid drinking at the bar right next to the hospital, finding solace in a hole in the wall near your apartment. According to the bartender, you were careful, only drinking exactly one cocktail each time, and “too quiet, like a ghost, or someone in mourning.” Samuel understood exactly what he meant. His noona was a warm and gentle person most of the time. But he could remember one, maybe two or three times in the past when you reminded him of his mom: lethargic, exhausted, hollow. There were times when you didn’t even get out of bed, just like her. He was at a loss during those days, especially since he could see right through your forced smiles.
A ghost.
He was a stupid brat who could only watch the person he loved wither away, but he was a man now, and he could protect you.
He could finally become your knight in shining armor.
***
The people at your hospital were idiots. The best kind of doctors and nurses were aggressive, they are who you want to fight with you when death’s on the other side. You can handle arrogant jerks as long as they could put their money where their mouths were, but the staff at your ER were inexperienced, incompetent and insufferable. You nearly lost three patients today because the interns were fighting over the “better” cases. You liked one person there: the most senior nurse on the floor, and she had no interest in drinking until dawn or spending more time with her colleagues than necessary.
Bless her heart, because one of your biggest regrets in your first life was forcing yourself to attend after-work hangouts. But at least you knew better now.
You might not have billions in your savings and you still have your own bosses to deal with, but the beauty of having a regular job is that you could leave it once your shift is over.
“Welcome,” greeted the young bartender.
You nodded at him and gave a once-over at the bar. There was another guy here, he was seated at a booth. A black cap covered his face as he stared intensely at his beer bottle; his thumbs kept rubbing up and down the same area, so much so that the label had been peeled off. He looked troubled—nervous. If you were to compare him to something, he reminded you of a thief on his very first “gig.”
“What can I get you?” the bartender, not the least bit troubled, asked with a polite smile.
You sat by the counter. “I’ll have a hot toddy.”
You finished your hot toddy in less than ten minutes as you contemplated what to eat for dinner. It would’ve been nice to drink more, but ever since that night with a certain gangster, you have been extra careful with how much you drink.
As you reached into your purse for some cash, the bartender placed a Manhattan in front of you.
You gave him a confused look.
He tilted his head towards the side, gesturing at the shifty customer who had left his booth and was now taking a seat right next to you.
Upon closer inspection, this man seemed to be close to your age, cleanly shaven and he smelled like soap. He kept his eyes on his lap as he shakingly said, “Y-you’re very pretty.”
“Thank you.” You didn’t know how to feel. Annoyed? Flattered? He treated you to a drink and was clearly doing his best to flirt, but for some reason, rather than shyness, it seemed like he was forced to do this. A prank, perhaps? “But one drink’s my limit.”
“O-okay…”
Maybe he was just shy, but you couldn’t be too careful.
You left some bills on the counter and kept your hand on the pepper spray in your purse. “Bye.”
You approached the door and thankfully, you didn’t hear him shuffling to follow you.
There were still a lot of people out; they would be too drunk or too indifferent to help if anything happened, but having them around could stop most potential attackers from pulling anything. As you thought this, you heard rapid footsteps behind you.
“Wait, um, miss? Miss!”
You looked over your shoulder for a split second, and yes, it was the guy from the bar. “Sorry, I gotta go.”
“I-I would really like to have your number. You’re… you’re my type!”
“I have to go—my boyfriend’s waiting for me at home.”
“Please just give me a chance! I-I’ll give you my number, how about that?”
You weren’t about to waste any more oxygen on this—
“Don’t go!” he screamed when you began running, and you could hear him running as well.
You were shouting out all sorts of expletives in your mind.
The man was panting and he was getting closer.
In your heart, you were praying to God, Buddha, Satan, the Author of this world—anyone who would listen.
“I said stop!” he yelled, leaping over you. You didn’t expect this fucker to actually jump, but he did and it was your turn to scream as fell down. You instinctively pushed your hands forward to protect your face, but before the man’s whole weight could cover you, he was kicked to the side.
“Miss?” A young man in glasses looked down at you with worried eyes. “Are you all right?”
“...yeah…”
“You’re injured.”
“Huh? Oh, no, I-I’ll survive, I can clean them up. We need to report—” you turned but the man was gone.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to the police,” your savior said, kneeling beside you. “Your knees are bleeding.”
“They’re superficial. Um, thank you, sir.”
He offered you his jacket. “It’s Samuel Seo, and…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My friends call me Sammy.”
Samuel…Samuel Seo?
“Oh. Thank you, Mr. Seo, I mean, Samuel.”
He blinked and pulled back like you just slapped him.
“You don’t…recognize me?”
He’s one of your favorite characters. He was a scumbag in the webtoon, but he was so beautiful that there was no other choice but to love him. But you didn’t know him.
“I’m sorry. Were you one of my patients?”
His brows furrowed. He didn’t scowl, he didn’t look angry or offended, but heartbroken. But that expression didn’t last for too long as he gave you a warm smile. “Let’s clean your wounds and then we can report to the police.”
“Thank you.”
Was this character always so altruistic?
***
You didn’t remember him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. You’ve had memory issues in the past. Times when you’d get lost on the way home despite having lived in the area for months, moments where you’d space out and look confused, but forgetting Samuel?
Maybe he’s full of it. It has been almost a decade. But it was like your memories of Gangseo have been completely wiped. He was no better than a complete stranger.
“S-sir?” The young man in the black cap fiddled his fingers. He managed to escape into a nearby motel that Samuel booked in advance. It was only the two of them inside the dingy room.
Samuel dropped the duffel bag in front of him and the man quickly checked the contents.
“Fifteen million won, just like we agreed. I added another five million for you to get out of the city.”[2]
“Thank you! I don’t—”
“Save it,” Samuel cut him off coldly. “I thought I was clear that you only had to scare her.” He couldn’t forget the image of your bloodied palms and knees.
“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t expect her to run so fast.”
“Just get out.”
“Y-yes!” The man zipped up the bag, bowed one last time and reached for the doorknob—
“One more thing,” Samuel said, reaching for a cigarette, “I don’t have to remind you what will happen if you blab about tonight, do I?”
The man shook his head furiously and ran away, leaving him alone.
Samuel walked towards the windows and exhaled, watching the thin trail of smoke rise. The nicotine in his lungs calmed him down and he came to a conclusion: being forgotten might be a good thing.
Rather than the pathetic, useless thing that he was in the past, you can remember him as someone worthy.
Samuel was very good at being patient.
When he was a child, he asked you what kind of man you preferred. You smiled and told him that you liked “safe guys,” so he was going to be safe; he was going to be kind and reliable. Selfless. Harmless.
The type of man you would trust not to hurt you, especially when you were too drunk to take care of yourself.
“The people at work suck! I hate them all!” you shouted, rubbing your forehead on the bartop. “And this one surgeon? Total pig! But he does his job so well that we can’t afford to lose him…ugh… his ex-girlfriend attacked me, like, physically pulled on my hair from behind, thinking I’m his current mistress, BLEGH! And—and, you know, how…when someone is ugly inside, it reflects on the outside? He’s so slimy. His smile grosses me out! He’s so fugly, I dunno why so many women keep flocking towards him—hic—just, ew. Not even if he offered me ten billion won!”[3]
Samuel paid for the drinks and snuck his fingers under your forehead. “Noona, I know you already wiped this counter with wet wipes but it’s still gross. Come on, let’s get you home.”
You made a sound of protest but didn’t pull away as he wrapped your arm over his shoulder.
“Ow, careful, I need my arm!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re too tall…”
“I know, I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to trip.”
“Mmm…” You leaned into his chest.
“Noona?”
“...zzz…”
Shaking his head, he scooped your legs up and carried you back to your building and into your unit.
Your survival instincts stressed him out greatly. You were often distant and distrustful of your own colleagues, but for whatever reason, you mellowed out quickly towards Samuel. Maybe you were desperate for a friend.
He could be that.
Anything for you.
“Noona?”
“...zzz…”
“We’re here, I need your key.”
“No, I don’t have a frisbee…”
“Pft.”
Every now and then, you could hold conversations even when you were unconscious. It was adorable.
When he finally found your key from your purse, he put you on the couch to remove your shoes, during which you kicked him.
“Wha—where am I?”
Rubbing his jaw, he was quick to reassure you, “You’re home.”
“What?”
“It’s okay, you’re fine. I was about to leave.”
“No, no, no, no, no…” You groggily sat up and grabbed his sleeves. You looked like you were about to cry at any moment. “Don’t go, don’t leave me. Please?”
Fuck.
“Sure, I can stay.”
You gave him a drunk smile and folded your legs close to your chest, making space for him.
He took that as a silent request to sit down. As soon as his butt hit the cushion, you were all over him like an affectionate cat. He could smell your shampoo as you snuggled against his neck.
“Hm…” you mumbled, eyes closed. “Everyone’s gone…don’t leave me…”
“I won’t. I’m right here, noona.”
You dipped your chin, leaning into his shoulder. “I left so many people behind…”
Were you talking about Gangseo? But aside from him and that old lady you lived with, you had nobody else. “Did you have a lot of friends back in Mexico?” He found out that you spent several months in Tijuana before working at your current hospital.
You shook your head, hair rustling with the movement. “...I’m alone…”
“You’re not alone.”
You breathed out before lifting your face. Your eyes were glazed over. “You’re really handsome, you know that?”
He chuckled.
“It’s not a joke. You’re very good-looking, like—” you cupped his face with both hands “—like, gorgeous.”
Dozens of girls have praised his looks, but this was the only time the words actually affected him.
“I’m glad you think so,” he whispered. He did his best to maintain his appearance. He covered up his tattoos carefully everyday, for his clients, but most especially for you. An ink-stained body wasn’t exactly the picture of a “safe man,” but you didn’t hate tattoos; once you fell for him, he knew you’d accept all of him.
You poked the side of his neck with your nose. “You smell nice, too…”
He cut back on the cigarettes when you two began drinking together.
“You smell really nice, Sammy.”
His breath hitched.
You were straddling his thigh now, your left knee brushed against his crotch. He instinctively put a hand on your back to keep you steady.
“I’m happy with my life, you know. I have my health, I have a stable job, a house—well, not a house, an apartment, but still—and I got food, that’s more than what many people have. They say that no man is an island, but I always saw myself as this…this peninsula who can take care of myself and not need anyone’s help. But sometimes—” you exhaled shakily “—sometimes I wish that I-I had someone, someone to do the dishes because I just… I’m so tired, and I—” you buried your face in the crook of his neck “—I can’t do it, I can’t. I wake up and I… do you know what I do? I cry. I cry and ask why the sun keeps rising because I just…I’m so tired and I have my job, my apartment, but I can’t do this anymore, I can’t—”
“Shh, shh, noona.” It was his turn to touch your face. “You’re not alone. You have me.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
Your lashes trembled and then, you were kissing him. He’d fantasized this kiss for years, and no dream could compare to the real thing.
His hand slid over your back and up your nape as you both pressed into the kiss. He could hear his own heartbeat. This was it. You were here, you can finally be together.
He let out a groan as he felt you rub against his thigh. You were getting warmer—and wetter.
“Sammy,” you slurred. He froze.
He looked down and saw your glassy eyes, and it was like getting splashed with ice-water.
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed you by the shoulders and gently pulled you away.
“Sammy?”
“You should go to sleep.”
“No, no…I’m—” you yawned “—zzz…”
Your head lolled to the side and he caught you; carefully, he lifted you off his thigh and carried you to your bed. He took off your watch and ID and set them both on the nightstand, then he pulled the blanket up to your chest and turned on the AC.
He left the bedroom, making sure that the door was closed shut before he plopped down on the couch.
His abandoned erection throbbed but he didn’t care.
Was I really about to take advantage of a crying, drunk woman who can’t even stand?
He threw his head back. “Fuck."
He swallowed hard, pushing down his lust as he recalled your tears.
Samuel can be patient. If being your friend was what you needed to be happy, then so be it.
He waited ten years, he can wait ten more.
[1] In-universe, Hero Man is a fictional cartoon character. He's referenced in Vasco's backstory and birthday party.
[2]
15 million KRW = 598,809.29 PHP = 10,220.65 USD
5 million KRW = 199,603.10 PHP = 3,406.88 USD
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
