#we baptize the PERSON

[francesderwent]

it’s not that we don’t bother to baptize the unborn because they’re not persons, we don’t baptize them because we can’t get at them to baptize them!! as Catholics we have strict “matter and form” for sacraments, gestures and words that are the given vehicle for God’s grace. having those things set in stone keeps us from going buckwild and doing stuff, aesthetically and ritually, that’s not in accord with the dignity of what’s happening. and part of the matter of baptism is the anointing with water. this is a necessary part of the sacrament, and since we can’t in the normal order of things get into the mother’s womb to sprinkle an unborn baby with water, we wait until they’re born to baptize them.

however—you know how sometimes modern medicine can detect a birth defect while the baby is in the womb, and then doctors go in and do a partial C-section, do surgery on the baby, and then put them back in the womb to finish developing? hypothetically, you could totally baptize the baby in that brief period where they’re being operated on outside of the womb.

I don't know whom I should ask about this, so I'll just post it and trust that God will give me the right answer at the right time.

Catholics and Lutherans hold that people have to be born before they can be baptized, right? You can't baptize somebody in the womb, and you can't baptize them in the birth canal. They have to be fully born first. This seems to imply that human life begins at birth.

How does this fit together with the pro-life position that human life begins at conception?

[yandere-daydreams]

do u have a picture for us not following twisted wonderland so we can nitpick

here's all two frames we got of him in the event teaser, and i'm begging you to believe me when i say that it's literally All We Have so far T-T i've seen rumors that he might have orange eyes and they might be keeping the name jack skellington, but so far it's pretty much just conjecture.

there's already been an event that takes place in spirit realm/afterlife/literally just hell, so my personal prediction is that there's either fae-adjacent realm magic involved or they're literally just going to keep the 'doorway portals to different worlds' thing from the original movie. either way i am filled with enthusiasm and can't wait to see how kalim in specific saves christmas.

[riwritingrn]

A rumble. 

A gust of wind.

Like a voice that swells in your throat only to be stifled out.

The clouds gather, great and grey,

Like a heavy shroud.

A prologue for what is to come.

It begins with a whisper.

The birds fly back home,

The world holds its breath and waits. 

And waits. 

And then,

It pours. 

The water from the sea has traveled all this way. 

It begins to fall, like a confession punctuated with nervous stutters,

And then gushes without bounds.

It touches the trees and kisses the world.

The sky embraces the world,

Like a blanket, like the arms of a lover. 

An eternity-worth of filth is washed away, made anew.

The world turns greener before my eyes.

Everything pauses momentarily. 

Everything ceases to exist.

The world swells,

Like uncontainable joy,

And the world exhales.

[madelynpryor]

i love you italian characters who struggle with their relationship with catholicism (or lack of relationship)

[yeslordmyking]

Thinking someone is a good person, and then learning their sins, and having to unlearn all the good things about them because they're meaningless without unless that person is in Christ...

That's like they're laying dead in your arms, and then they revive and do something good, but you can't allow yourself to feel good about it because you know they're just going to die again

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Very cool thing that having reincarnation beliefs has done to me is that every single time we get people trying to proselytize at work, it feels even more meaningless than before

[claratyler]

the thing we need to understand is that the pope is not at all pro-lgbt rights in anyway. Does he oppose violenece/hate as a blanket sort of core belief? Yes, so this includes violence and hate towards a queer person. But that doesnt mean he believesthat being queer is something to be celebrated, let alone acceptable.

Does he say any gay person can join in the mass? Yes, as a blanket sort of core belief because christianity is supposed to be for everyone, and nobody, regardless of their moral failings (such as being queer, which IS regarded as a moral failing), should be turned away from participating in the holy rituals or getting close to God.

The thing you need to understand about modern day catholics is that many of them will look you in the face and say "Being gay is not a bad thing. We all have temptations we have to stay clear off. It's not the fact that you have this inclination that defines you, it's whether you choose to engage by thought and/or action instead of actively suppressing it that we look down upon." And then they'll tell you in a way they think is kind and helpful that they know a person who can help with treating that.

"The pope now accepts trans people!" Are you sure. Are you really sure

How do you think this is going to fare in reality when the parameters for this "acceptance" are "pastoral prudence" and "public scandal" and "educational disorientation".

Also, on gay people:

This is literally what i was saying: A gay person who represses their inclinations is what they mean by leading a life that conforms to the faith. Thats why a gay person in a gay relationship/marriage (which btw gay marriage is not existent in the roman catholic church, the very notion is a contradiction in their eyes) could not be eligible.

And why do i know allthis and why am i ranting about this? Because #CatholicUniTrauma and im tired of people misunderstanding how fucked up the entire catholic church is because of misleading headlines or quotes taken out of context. The pope is not woke. Seriously.

quoted article: The New York Times' "Vatican Says Transgender People Can Be Baptized and Become Godparents" by Jason Horowitz, Elisabetta Povoledo, and Ruth Graham. Published Nov 9 2023 (tumblr wont let me paste the link for some reason)

[mollysunder]

Arcane gives away the plot in incredibly unsubtle ways The most unsubtle hint is that Sevika's name can literally translate to "Servant of God". That's genuinely clever.

The origin of nations are highly mythologized stories so it works that her role in the story and on a meta level is to assist larger than life characters with cults of personality that can make Zaun's story happen.

The story isn't subtle about any of this! She worked for Silco, a man draped in anti-christ imagery with a cult clearly brewing in the background of Zaun, because he could make Zaun happen. Then when Silco's ability to put Zaun's independence above all else faltered in the face of his loyalty and love of his daughter he dies.

In a bit of foreshadowing Sevika already revealed the trump cards she had in her deck in the face of Silco's absence, Jinx and Viktor. Two figures already set up for greater feats of grandeur and idolization than Silco had achieved alive.

Jinx, whose been baptized and ressurected as often as Silco, is the character for without whom the plot could not exist (or keep going). Jinx's militancy against Piltover forced was the reason Zaun's independence into the Council's room. And throughout the show Jinx imagery has either absorbed or subverted Janna's symbolism.

Janna is characterized by swirling blue winds, but in Zaun it's the blue of Jinx's cloud smoke that defines the land.

Instead of Janna's blue bird meant to symbolize hope, Zaun is filled with Jinx's crows that call out Jinx's next act.

Now Jinx has desecrated Janna's holy site in her own image by adorning the ruins with a shrine to her own life.

Meanwhile we've seen Viktor in the Sump, shrouded like a prophet to heal those harmed from their long-term shimmer dependence. Viktor is not set to remain in rags though.

Half the time the Machine Herald is referenced it's always coded in power.

In the first shots of Zaun post-time skip we see a well guarded building called "The Herald's Palace".

In Sevika's playing cards Viktor's mask is given prongs to evoke the image of a crown. In both instances the Machine Herald's image is laced with Jinx's visual motif. First Jinx's blue swirls Frame The Herald's sign on his building, and her debut tag is centerd on his tarot card.

It's only in past deeds is Jinx's presence unseen on Viktor's work. For example, the drains of the water treatment system Viktor is hinted at creating are decorated to resemble previous iterations of the Machine Herald's masks and are visually his alone.

It seems we're in for a double act next season!

[hihomeghere]

Here is my collection of Red Dead Redemption fics! I hope you enjoy! All of my fics are f!reader if not specifically mentioned

Smut 💋, Fluff 🪽, Angst 🗯️

Rdr2 Boyfriend vibes

John Marston

Burning Love Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids? 🪽💋

Gloves John goes crazy over you dressed up for a job, more specifically your white gloves 🪽💋

Based off an ask 💋

Right Person, Wrong Time You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? 🗯️💋

Part Two of Right Person, Wrong Time

Arthur Morgan

Fakin' It After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track? 💋

Fishing in the Dark You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota river. 🪽💋

Dreams Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you 🪽

My Eyes Only Arthur thinks you look like a work of art 🪽

Salt and Pepper Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray 🪽

Deserving. 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick? 🪽

Blue Ain't Your Color Loosely based on the song, Blue Ain't Your Color 🪽

Little Things Arthur returns from a successful job and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you 💋

Prompts : #30 I just want to be yours. #50 We need to talk about last night 💋

First time : You want Arthur to be the one to take your virginity, you just dont want to tell him💋

Baptized by Fire, Arthur Morgan x Reader x Charles Smith

After running from your past you find yourself facing certain death out in a blizzard. Thankfully you’re rescued, but what happens when you have to ride out the rest of the winter with the two men who rescued you? An RDR2 AU where Arthur followed Charles to Canada. No Y/N. Eventual Smut. Check the tags on each chapter for warnings. 22K word count

Chapter one , Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

Charles Smith

Knight in Shining Armor 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing." 🪽💋

Prompts : 12 "You look so much softer, so much calmer, I wish you could see yourself as you sleep."13"Sleeping with you was the best sleep I've gotten in years." 54“Here, take my blanket.”55 “You’re cute when you smile, you should do it more often.” 61 “I said I’d take care of you.” 🪽

Desperado Set four months after Charles leaves with the Wapiti. You and Charles try to figure out what to do after the gang falls apart. Comfort fic 🪽

Javier Escuella

Prompt : #19 You're leaving now? 🗯️

Kieran Duffy

Prompt : #66 Were you touching yourself? 💋

[andi-kook]

DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”  

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.

[imsososolesbian]

I’ve seen so many people harassed these past few months because of opinions on fictional characters that aren’t real. This is disgusting behaviour. People are allowed their own opinions and should not have other’s opinions pushed upon them. You wouldn’t like someone’s opinion pushed onto you if a person was doing that to you so don’t do that to others.

Now let’s get into the real deal. Travis is a man yes, we know Travis. He grew up in the 80s and 90s he has the world views of that time. Yes he’ll be misogynistic, and that’s a product of the time that’s like taking a character from the 90s and getting mad that he is misogynistic.

All Yellowjackets ships are trauma bonds, other than JackieShauna and Taivan. No ship would have happened in the context of the show if not for the crash. LottieNat have gotten together for the people who like them, heck travnat most likely wouldn’t, but still would have stood a chance because they are in a cannon relationship. LottieLee is a trauma bond, they held hands as they went down and also Laura Lee baptized Lottie because of what was going on, if they got together it would have been because of a trauma bond. Even Shauna and Jeff’s relationship is because of trauma, less of a trauma bond but most definitely because of trauma.

I’ve seen so many people get hated on for not liking LottieNat or finding travnat good. Let’s break it down, het ships are good, hell sometimes better than sapphic or mlm ships. Sometimes sapphic ships are better. Sometimes two ships are the same goodness. We shouldn’t hate people just because they don’t like the same thing as us. It’s bad. Yours truly, Raph.

[arielleslipgloss]

hii arielle! so now that is summer i would love to rest and take a long break but also keep my days productive, like having a good morning and night routine as well as doing chores and feeling motivated enough to do them, etc, but i'm literally always mophing around feeling really down. what would you recommend for that?

have a great summer!! from a pinterest girlblogger <3

Ahhh hiii love!! Tysm for asking this 💗

Summer Lifestyle

“I don’t chase, I attract. What’s mean’t for me will simply find me.” - Kendall Jenner

Routines!! Your morning and night will impact your summer A LOT. Just in general, having routines will impact your life. If you don’t have a set routine it’ll be hard to stay productive. So, make sure your routine(s) are always adjusted to your schedule. Whether that means time for chores, exercise, or your hobbies. Just try your best to fit it in. Also, try not to overpack your routines with loads of stuff. Making your routines too long could make you unmotivated throughout the day. So try to keep your routines short. That way you don’t rush everything on your to do list. Also, having a short & flexible routine will let you have more freedom throughout the day. For example, maybe you forgot to do a chore from yesterday? Well, with a flexible routine you should be able to do that chore. Without having loads of stuff to do on top of that.

2. Self care days!! Summer is the season to REST! No more stressing over exams and no more drama. It’s time to take a step back and rest. Meaning, take time to care for yourself. Do your nails, skincare, steam your face, make yummy food, watch a movie, romanticize summer, journal, read, develop new hobbies, take a everything shower, spend time in nature, etc. Whatever you can do to refresh your mind, I’d do! Even if that sometimes means rotting in bed. If you’ve been stressed out DEFINITELY take time to, rot in bed, spend time in nature, watch a bunch of movies with popcorn, etc.

3. Make a list of activities to do!! Me personally, I love making bucket lists. For example, this summer I wanted to go blueberry picking, get baptized, go golfing, make lots of flower bouquets, etc. I always like to make bucket lists for different seasons. Especially bucket lists for summer. That way I’m not bored 24/7. It’s like a fun adventure that I do every year. So, I would definitely recommend making bucket lists. It’s the perfect way to stay occupied with different activities. Or if you don’t want to make a bucket list, try new hobbies. You can simply list things you are interested in doing right in your notes app. Then do them whenever you want!!

4. Practice self love!! Doll, it’s summer! We shouldn’t be down bad crying at the gym. We got love to give ourselves!! It’s time to acknowledge how wonderful you are. 2 Timothy 1:7 says “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” We all were created beautifully and with care!! There’s no reason why we shouldn’t love ourselves.

5. Motivation!! Unfortunately we aren’t always going to feel motivated. Which is why I constantly will tell you dolls to work on having discipline. It’s something we will all struggle with time-to-time. However, we have to push through and do whatever we have to do anyways. Pushing through may even help you become motivated. But just because it’s difficult in the moment, doesn’t mean it will be difficult forever. So, keep a positive mindset and keep going!! You got this doll! 💗

6. Get off your phone and go in nature!! I know, I know you dolls probably don’t like to hear it, but seriously. We spend so much time on our phones. Our dopamine levels are probably through the roof. So, take time to slow down and go out in nature. Maybe all you do is run away from bugs, people watch, read a book, or pick dandelions. However you spend time in nature, make sure you actually breathe. Take time to look around. Romanticize those moments that you run away from bugs or read a book.

“You can help as many people as you want but you also have to remember to check in on yourself.” - Kendall Jenner

Love you dolls!! Remember to enjoy all moments in your life 💗

Xoxo, Arielle 💋🎀

[loveerran]

LDS Doctrine, 8yr-old Transgender Children and Policy

One of the most shocking things about the new LDS policies for transgender children, is the policy that appears to deny or severely restrict their access to baptism. I discussed that briefly here (last year and recently). This post looks more at the doctrinal side of the question.

LDS doctrine has been amazingly clear and consistent on the treatment of little children prior to the age of accountability (defined as 8yrs-old in Doctrine & Covenants 68) from the very early days of the church. I honestly feel this issue has some nuance, but the church has been absolutely unwavering in stating the tenet that children under the age of 8 cannot sin, or even if they can their sin is swallowed up in the atonement of Christ automatically.

I might personally believe that accountability for actions is a continuum based on the light and law an individual has received (2 Nephi 9:25-6, Luke 12:47-9, Romans 4:15, 5:13, DC 137:7 – a continuum applying to all individuals, regardless of age). However, LDS doctrine and statements are emphatic in declaring the complete innocence of little children, and that the atonement covers them completely until the child is 8 years old:

Moroni 8:8,11-2,14,19 (verses 20+ are much harsher) “...wherefore little children are whole, for they are not capable of committing sin… their little children need no repentance… little children are alive in Christ, from the foundation of the world… little children cannot repent; wherefore it is awful wickedness to deny the pure mercies of God unto them…”

DC 20:71 “No one can be received into the church of Christ unless he has arrived at the years of accountability before God, and is capable of repentance”

DC 68:27 “And their children shall be baptized for the remission of their sins when eight years old, and receive the laying on of the hands”

DC 74:7 “But little children are holy, being sanctified through the atonement of Christ; and this is what the scriptures mean”

See also Mosiah 3:16, Mosiah 15:25, DC 29:46-7, DC 137:10, JST Genesis 17:3-11, etc.

Taken together, little children are whole and clean through Jesus Christ until they arrive at the years of accountability and are capable of repentance. And that age is 8 years old. Church leaders have repeatedly restated this:

Dallin H Oaks: “We understand from our doctrine that before the age of accountability a child is ‘not capable of committing sin’” (Dallin H. Oaks, “Sins and Mistakes,” Ensign, Oct. 1996, 65)

Bruce R. McConkie “There comes a time, however, when accountability is real and actual and sin is attributed in the lives of those who develop normally. It is eight years of age, the age of baptism.” (Bruce R. McConkie, “The Salvation of Little Children,” Ensign, Apr. 1977, 6)

And we can even see this in the policies laid out in the current General Handbook of Instructions:

31.2.3.1: Children who are Members of Record

(note: children of record are children whose names are on the rolls of the church prior to baptism at age 8)

"In the interview, the bishopric member ensures that the child understands the purposes of baptism (see 2 Nephi 31:5–20). He also ensures that the child understands the baptismal covenant and is committed to live by it (see Mosiah 18:8–10). He does not need to use a specified list of questions. This is not an interview to determine worthiness, since 'little children need no repentance' (Moroni 8:11)."

(bold emphasis mine)

But for the first time in our history, we have an exception to this rule, and it applies only if the child is transgender. Instead of a meaningful interview with the local bishop or one of his counselors about following Jesus, a transgender child (and only a transgender child) who dresses differently or uses a different name and pronouns must have a worthiness interview with the regional Stake President directly. There is no other ‘sin’ that calls for this, even when little children have somehow perpetrated horrible crimes. If the Stake President finds the child worthy (is this even possible under the new guidelines??), he recommends the child for baptism to the First Presidency. The First Presidency is the highest council/court in the church, from which there is no appeal. The First Presidency then chooses whether or not to permit the child to be baptized. This new policy is spelled out in the Handbook:

38.2.8.9: Individuals Who Identify as Transgender

"Any exception to this policy requires the approval of the First Presidency. To request approval, the mission president, or the stake president for an eight-year-old, interviews the person. If he finds the person to be worthy and if he recommends baptism and confirmation, he submits a request for approval to the First Presidency using LCR."

(bold emphasis mine)

In the past, the church has denied baptism to the children of polygamists and to the children of gays (possibly others). In those cases, it could always be said the child’s parents were at fault, not the child themselves. This new policy is a marked departure from that and, in my opinion, is inconsistent with the church’s doctrine. I hope to see this policy adjusted as other policies have been when they do not align well with our core values and doctrines.

Love,

Erran

[doloresdisparue]

Since I've had some clown in my mentions claiming Nabokovs intent was to present Dolores as equally culpable echoing the good old "but what about her TEEN SEDUCTRESS powers to CONTROL MEN" let's collect some of what Vladimir "Strong Opinions" Nabokov said about the book and Dolly in particular:

"Some simply haven’t read the book or don’t understand it. It is not obscene; it has none of the dirt of many so-called realistic modern novels. “Most critics have failed to stress the pathetic side,” said Mrs. Nabokov. “It’s really a tragic story. Here, in the hands of this maniac is this poor girl—.” “And a very ordinary girl—” Nabokov put in…." (What Hath Lolita Wrought? Ithaca Author Distressed by Some Reactions,” Elmira Telegram, Dec. 14, 1958. )

"In Lolita, who’s the most likable person for you? It’s Lolita. It’s with her that the good reader should become friends. American readers, generally, talk of her as an unbearable kid, but you pity her as you would pity any kid. There’s something touching in her." (“While Lolita Travels Around the World, the Entomologist Nabokov and the Agronomist Robbe-Grillet Exchange Pawns on the Literary Chessboard”), Arts (Paris), October 28–Nov. 3, 1959, 4.) 

"She came entirely out of my imagination. Critics, in general, find her odious; I pity her: an orphan, alone in life with a demanding forty-year-old. When I wrote about her last meeting with Humbert, I cried, like Flaubert at the death of Madame Bovary. “She cries every night, and the critics don’t hear her sobs,” said Mrs. Nabokov." (“Nabokov Without Lolita”, Nouvelles littéraires, Oct. 29, 1959, 1–2.)

"But she’s also a very touching character. Toward the end of the book, the reader and the author pity her, this poor child who has been sacrificed on the altar of motels. It’s very sad." (“The Good Mr. Nabokov: Lolita’s Father Forsakes Nymphets for the Sake of Pushkin and Robbe-Grillet”), L’Express, Nov. 5, 1959, 32–33.)

"Is Lolita amoral? On the contrary. It has a very moral moral: don’t harm children. Now, Humbert does [...] And Lolita, isn’t she a victim and not a little slattern….After all, haven’t I indicated the evil of all this, in giving Lolita a stillborn child?" (“Conversation, Vladimir Nabokov: He Likes Humor, Tennis and Proust. He Hates Communists, Sade, Freud”),  L’Express, Jan. 26, 1961. )

"How, then, do you explain the “Lolita cult”? How do you explain all these girls who move, act, dress, and talk like Lolita? I wouldn’t know. Perhaps it is a result of the way the popular press has distorted my poor Lo. It has come up with something that has absolutely nothing to do with the book or Lolita the character. Lolita is the story of a sad little girl in a very sad world. The “Lolita cult” is something completely different." (“Love Today: How the Author of Lolita Sees It”), L’Europeo, June 23, 1966, 28–33. )

"Humbert Humbert is a vain and cruel wretch who manages to appear “touching.” That epithet, in its true, tear-iridized sense, can only apply to my poor little girl." (Paris Review, The Art of Fiction No. 40, Issue 41, Summer-Fall 1967)

"Lolita isn’t a perverse young girl. She’s a poor child who has been debauched and whose senses never stir under the caresses of the foul Humbert Humbert, whom she asks once, “how long did [he] think we were going to live in stuffy cabins, doing filthy things together…? [...] It is equally interesting to dwell, as journalists say, on the problem of the inept degradation that the character of the nymphet Lolita, whom I invented in 1955, has undergone in the mind of the broad public. Not only has the perversity of this poor child been grotesquely exaggerated, but her physical appearance, her age, everything has been transformed by the illustrations in foreign publications. Girls of eighteen or more, sidewalk kittens, cheap models, or simple long-legged criminals, are baptized “nymphets” or “Lolitas” in news stories in magazines in Italy, France, Germany, etc.; and the covers of translations, Turkish or Arab, reach the height of ineptitude when they feature a young woman with opulent contours and a blond mane imagined by boobies who have never read my book. In reality Lolita is a little girl of twelve, whereas Humbert Humbert is a mature man, and it’s the abyss between his age and that of the little girl that produces the vacuum, the vertigo, the seduction of mortal danger. Secondly, it’s the imagination of the sad satyr that makes a magic creature of this little American schoolgirl, as banal and normal in her way as the poet manqué Humbert is in his. Outside the maniacal gaze of Humbert there is no nymphet. Lolita the nymphet exists only through the obsession that destroys Humbert. Here’s an essential aspect of a unique book that has been betrayed by a factitious popularity." (“Apostrophes: Bernard Pivot Meets Vladimir Nabokov”), live television interview, Antenne-2 (Paris), May 30, 1975.)

And let's close with my blog title:

"Lolita is an indictment of all the things it expresses. It is a pathetic book dealing with the plight of a child, a very ordinary little girl, caught up by a disgusting and cruel man….But of all my books, I like it the best. " (Author of Lolita Scoffs at Furore over His Novel,” Niagara Falls Gazette, Jan. 11, 1959, 10B.)

Thanks for coming to his TED Talk

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 13 🍒

"Rough Ride"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,978

Summary: after sneaking around, Joel takes you on your first official date -- okay, so it's a little hole-in-the-wall bar the next county over. Just as a perfect night comes to an end, you see Joel's jealous side for the first time, and it leaves you craving more.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), takes place summer 2003, reader wears a dress and thong, groping, TW for unwanted grabbing (from a stranger), fistfight (Joel & stranger), jealous!Joel, Joel grabs reader, dubcon, rough sex, unprotected piv/creampie, mention of emergency contraceptive, anal, no use of y/n, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Author's note: this is the chapter that shows a darker side to Joel's personality. Please heed the tags. If this is not something you are in a good headspace to read then please skip.

Series Masterlist

It's almost a cruel kind of existence, to be so close yet so far from Joel. You're back to reality, doing the same mundane things you did before. Only now you look upon everything with a kind of wisdom, baptized with a secret knowledge that you can't tell anyone about, though you want to shout to the heavens how much in love you are with a certain Joel Miller.

You find time here and there to be together, mostly at your house when your cousin's gone. It's a thrill you never tire of, to be with him in this way, to meld your bodies together, sometimes slowly, savoring the feel of each other, other times a quick, impetuous coupling in the darkness of his living room or in his truck. He says you make him feel like a teenager again.

"I want to go on a date with you," you tell him one night, your arms wrapped around him as he picks you up from your shift at the cafe. You both lean against the truck in the empty parking lot. "I'm always hearing about everyone else's dates and we haven't gone on one yet."

Joel smiles and kisses the top of your head. "And where would you like to go?"

"Let's go out dancing," you say. "I'm dying to see you all dressed up."

"I ain't much of a dancer, sweetheart," he says, and when you look up at him you see him visibly blush. "Pretty sure my moves might even shock ya."

"Come on, Joel, it can't be that bad," you laugh. "Besides, I'm more interested in slow dancing with you." To tease him a little you softly grind your hips against his, and your heart feels like it's on springs when you feel him start to twitch and harden in his jeans.

"In that case I'm game. There's a little place about twenty miles south.. we're not bound to run into anyone we know." He kisses your hair again, smells the sweet mixture of coffee and your natural scent.

Joel picks you up on a Saturday night. You've dressed for the occasion in a sundress and cowboy boots, and your heart throbs to see the hunger in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He doesn't look so bad himself in a long sleeve button down shirt and a pair of Wranglers with boots of his own. "No hat?" you tease him as he opens the truck door for you.

"I'm not much of a hat man," he grumbles, giving your ass a little grab as you climb into the passenger seat. "You look amazin' by the way."

"So do you." Grinning, you settle into the seat as he gets in and you take off. "I'm not used to seeing you all dressed up."

He laughs a little. "Well, I don't get dressed up all that much, but I'll do it for you." Once he's settled into the direction you're going, his eyes dart over to you. "I just love lookin' at ya."

Your hand is on his lap as he drives, and he laces his fingers with yours. "And I love looking at you," you lean your head against the headrest and smile at him. The drive doesn't take very long, and your excitement only helps to distract you.

The town's welcome sign is so rusted you can't make out the name. In contrast the honky-tonk is small, but well-lit and in an older neighborhood. The parking lot is full and Joel has to park a further way down, but neither of you mind. It's a beautiful, if sweltering night and you walk together with your arms around one another's waists.

Inside, the little saloon is brimming over with people. Couples are on the dance floor as an old-fashioned jukebox provides the music. A place like this doesn't even have a DJ, which you find so charming, There's no one at the door to card you, probably because there's so many people, and because you look more mature paired with Joel. "I'm gonna get a beer first, you want anything?" he asks, lips close to your ear.

"Gin and tonic," you tell him, simply because you heard someone order it in a movie and it sounds good.

"Like hell," he shakes his head. "You ain't drinkin' that kinda stuff til you're old enough."

"Fine," you playfully roll your eyes. "A Shirley Temple, then. I'll find us a seat."

While he's at the bar, you look around, taking in the white lights strung up from the beams, the couples dancing boisterously to an Alan Jackson song, the scent of cigarette smoke and beer, the raucous laughter in the air, the feeling that you've stepped into another world altogether.

Glancing around you see a guy who looks only a few years older than yourself, tall, lean, in complete western wear. He catches your gaze and smiles, gives a little wink. You only smile and nod, not wanting to flirt with someone while you're waiting for Joel. When he returns with your drinks the other guy turns his attention elsewhere.

You sip your drink as Joel puts his arm around you, and you lean into his shoulder. He can barely take his eyes off you. You return his gaze, meeting him halfway as his lips press to yours, tasting the sweetness of the grenadine from your drink. "I shoulda meet you sooner," he murmurs, his lips millimeters from yours.

"If you met me any sooner our relationship would be illegal," you tease him, enjoying the redness that flushes over his cheeks. "But I know what you mean," you add in a whisper.

"You know it ain't like that," he tries to explain. "Sweetheart I'd love you if you were 28, or 38, or 48.."

You kiss him to stop his deluge of words. "Finish your beer and let's take a look at the jukebox," you tell him, and when he's done he takes your hand and follows you to the jukebox and check out the songs together.

"What song you want?" he asks, his hand stroking your lower back as he kisses the top of your head.

"Depends. Do you know how to two-step?"

"Of course. What kinda question is that?" But he's blushing and you know he's not telling the truth.

"Good!" You call his bluff and put a quarter in the jukebox, pressing the button for "Small Town Saturday Night" by Hal Ketchum. Joel's eyes light up as you bring him out to the dance floor. "You sure you know how?" you ask, after a couple minutes of him awkwardly shuffling his feet compared to your practiced steps.

"I did warn you earlier that dancin' ain't my strong suit," he chuckles, relieved when you shift to a more basic dance with him.

"I know what your strong suit is," you murmur, earning a wink from him and a squeeze of your ass. "Follow my lead." You do the steps a little slower, showing him how to mirror your movements, and he does get better, but each time he tries to take the lead you take it back with a smile. "It's not a very easy dance," you tell him as the song winds down. "Maybe the next one can be a slow one? You choose the song."

He puts a coin in and takes a moment before selecting "Amazed" by Lonestar. It's one of your favorites, and you smile at him as he grabs your hand and leads you back out to the dance floor. His arms around your waist and yours around his shoulders, it's like there's no one else in the room as you move together in a slow dance. The magic between you is undeniable.

"I love you," he says, gripping you tightly, watching the lights overhead glimmer across your beautiful face.

"I love you too, Joel," you reply, reaching up to kiss him.

"I swear I'll never stop lovin' you," he whispers, his hands cupping your face, committing every detail of this moment to memory.

A blissful little smile on your face, you kiss him again. "Good. Because I plan on loving you for the rest of my life." You gaze up at him, heart skipping a beat. "In fact, I've been thinking.. maybe we should tell Sarah about us.. I don't like us keeping this secret from her. She's old enough to know the truth."

Joel looks deep in thought, brows creased. "I don't know.. maybe. We'll talk about it tomorrow?"

"Of course," you agree, fingers stroking his hair.

Soon enough you're not even dancing anymore, just swaying and kissing, barely aware of the other couples dancing around you. It's as close to heaven as you can get on this earth. His hands gently squeeze your ass, kneading your cheeks as they slide beneath the hem of your dress. "No panties?" he whispers, automatically pressing his pelvis to yours.

"A G-string," you tease him, giggling a little as he lightly snaps the waistband against your skin.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack, woman," he sighs and kisses your hair. "Let's get outta here.."

It's a tempting thought, and of course you're willing to drop everything and go home with him immediately, but you also want to take advantage of this moment. "Just a couple more dances. Please? We came out all this way. Who knows when we'll get the chance again?"

The song ends; he tips up your chin and kisses you softly. "All right, whatever babygirl wants. I'm gonna head to the men's room real quick then us another round of drinks. I'll put on somethin' for us, maybe some Garth Brooks." He winks at you, walking you back to your table before he leaves.

As far as first dates go, this one is the best. You feel good, you're in love, and you know that Joel is going to leave you a sopping, quivering mess later tonight. There's nothing better than this.

You're finishing the dregs of your Shirley Temple and using the straw to scoop out the maraschino cherry when someone arrives at your booth but it's not Joel. It's the guy who was checking you out earlier.

"Hey there beautiful, you wanna dance?" he asks.

It takes you a second to realize he's actually talking to you. "Uh, no thanks, but I appreciate it. I'm actually here with my boyfriend." It feels good to say it, even if it's only to a stranger.

He just gives a wry smile. "That so? I don't see him around."

Your smile remains polite even though you could kill him with your eyes. "It doesn't matter if he's right next to me or all the way in Timbuktu. I said no thanks."

"I don't know why he's fool enough to leave a pretty young thing like you by your lonesome," he persists, and it's irritating.

"You don't get the hint, do you?" As you emit your snide remark you scan the saloon for Joel, and see his tall, broad, sauntering figure heading towards the bar. Ignoring the idiot trying to hit on you, you leave the booth, not wanting to be cornered, and make your way across the dance floor to Joel.

Suddenly the stranger grabs you and presses you to him in a lewd and suggestive manner. "Get the fuck off me!" you shout, but you're barely heard over the music. His grip is tight and as you're pressed up close you feel his hardness. A wave of nausea surges in your gut.

"What the fuck is goin' on? Get the hell away from her!" Joel shouts, saving you by pulling you away from the man's grasp. You're grateful until you catch the look in his eye, full of anger and blame. At you. You get out of the way before he pushes the other guy, who stumbles back but catches himself.

"You're gonna be sorry you did that," the other guy slurs, rearing back to throw a punch but Joel is quicker and lands his punch first, sending the other guy sprawling.

"Joel!" you shriek, but it's lost in the hubbub that ensues as Joel pummels the guy, beating him nearly to a pulp. You know better than to intervene and risk getting hit yourself, but even if you could, you're frozen to the spot in disbelief.

Security comes and manages to pry Joel off the guy, but the damage is done. The other guy is groaning, blood spurting from his nose and mouth, and more of that blood is on Joel's knuckles. He's promptly kicked out, shrugging off the security guards who try to escort him outside. He grabs onto your wrist, dragging you with him. You've never seen him this angry.

The night is hot, sweltering, but a cold sweat forms on your brow as Joel, in silence, leads you back to the truck. His hand is wrapped around your wrist pretty tightly. "Joel what the fuck did you do that for?"

"You defendin' that asshole?" he mutters, not easing up on his grip as he walks quickly with you in tow.

"Let up, will you?" you whine. "I'm not defending anyone, but that guy was obviously just a drunk idiot. You could've just pushed him away from me and be done with it."

"Looked like you were actually enjoyin' yourself. I didn't see you strugglin' in his arms." He looks down at you with a cold stare.

You're so shocked you can only stare back, not believing what's actually going on. "You're fucking kidding me, right? I was petrified!"

"Sure you were," he mutters, still dragging you past the parking lot and to the secluded area where you had to park.

"Joel," you grunt again, your heart starting to pound like a jackhammer at the way he's treating you. "You're hurting me!"

"Quiet," he grumbles. "You don't know what pain is." As if he hasn't manhandled you all the way out here to the truck, like a gentleman he opens the passenger side for you. You start to climb in but his hand presses against your back, bending you over.

"What-" your startled question is cut off as Joel uses his free hand to lift the hem of your short dress, revealing your ass to him. Blush reddens your face, and much to your surprise you start to get wet. He just has that effect on you.

"Can't believe he was grabbin' on ya while ya had this little thing on." He snaps the strap of your G-string and you whimper at the sweet sting. "Don't think I can't see that glistenin' lil' pussy between your thighs. You get all wet for that sumbitch?"

"No," you shake your head, starting to feel dizzy with pleasure, with confusion, even a little bit of fear. "Only you."

Joel just grunts and abruptly digs his fingers into your cunt, causing you to cry out.

"Really? All this for me? Don't want nobody else to touch ya?"

You shake your head, too many words and needful moans crowding your throat. "Just you," you croak out.

He starts moving his hand, roughly, and the hand pressing your back now squeezes your ass, grabbing it, and then you feel a sting as he spanks you. You gasp, body moving forward as he spanks you again, rubbing your cheek as if to ease the sting right before he does it again, all while he fucks you with his other hand, feeling you coat his fingers with your juices. You hear him unbuckle his belt and there's the sound of clothing being moved and shifted aside. He moves your right leg up so that you're stepping on the running board, then he's hot and hard at the opening of your cunt, pushing in his broad tip.

"Beg for it," he growls in your ear, his hand pulling at your hair.

Your heart throbs so fast you worry it'll just explode. "Fuck me please," you whimper, body tense and taut as wire.

He shoves your G-string to the side and rams himself into you, both of you crying out, and then he begins to fuck you, mercilessly, hands gripping your hips as he drives into you. He's deep and rough, all previous gentleness lost in the intensity of the moment. But damn it if you don't press back against him, eager for more of him, showing him you can take anything he's got.

"You're mine, got that?" he rasps in your ear. "Mine to fuck any damn time I please."

"Joel," you whimper as he pushes in especially deep, so deep you can feel him in your belly. "Fuck.." He stays there, pressed deep against you, purposefully, as if to embed himself into your very soul.

"This is exactly what my little slut needs, ain't it?" He pulls out slowly then slams back in. "This is what keeps her in line. This is what she gets for wearin' a little nothin' dress with little nothin' panties underneath, dancin' with other men while my back is turned."

His words hurt more than the actual slamming of his cock into your willing body. "I wasn't," you gasp.

"The hell you weren't," he mutters, and grabs your arms, pinning them behind your back, as he uses them for leverage, speeding up, fucking you like he hates you. You wail into the interior of the truck, which moves vigorously with Joel's forceful movements.

"Joel!!" It's a supplication, a reverence, and you don't know if you want him to stop or to keep going, but he lifts you up against him, your back flush to his broad chest, and he tears the buttons off the front of your dress, pulling down your bra and exposing your breasts to his hands, which grab them with his rough touch while his hips ruthlessly pound against you from the back. In a maddening surge of animalistic lust your cunt clenches around him as you come, your hands steadying yourself on the edge of the passenger seat. Your mind goes blank as you get caught up in the intense pleasure. Joel grunts and thrusts more quickly against you, pinning you forward on the seat again, his hips pounding forcefully against you. You know this rhythm, you're familiar with the movement of his body as he's about to come, and you try to pull yourself up but he's stronger. "Joel, don't you dare--" you're cut off with a long, low groan as you feel the warm eruption of his come deep inside you, and you're shocked how your body reacts by milking his orgasm with another of your own. He fills you up, his hips eventually slowing to a rest as he sags over you, his panting breath hot in your ear. "Jesus," you whisper, at the same time as he growls, "Fuck."

He pulls away from you and realization sets in for him. His cum is trickling down your inner thighs. And though a primal part of him has been craving to see it, he also knows he fucked up. "Wait," he tells you as you get back up. From the glove compartment he grabs some napkins from a fast-food place and carefully cleans you up. You wince a little, just now feeling the soreness between your legs. "I'm sorry," he says, he voice low and full of shame. "I didn't mean to. I just.."

You don't know what to say as he's wiping himself away from you. Even when you weren't being careful, you were somewhat careful by him pulling out. And this was just carelessness. You hear him saying something, but there's a ringing in your ears, and all you can concentrate on is the warm, squishy feeling in your cunt.

Joel helps you into the seat and gets into the driver's side once you're both properly put together and buttoned up. Within minutes you're on the road, heading back towards Austin. Joel's mouth is dry as his mind plays over what happened. He took you the way he'd take a random woman on a one night stand. He projected his jealousies and insecurities onto you when you were innocent in all this. He has no words for you that can suffice to make things better. To drown out the silence he puts on the radio. A Faith Hill song, staticky at first, fills the air.

You can kiss me in the moonlight On the rooftop under the sky, or You can kiss me with the windows open While the rain comes pouring inside Kiss me in sweet slow motion Let's let every thing slide You got me floating, you got me flying

"I need to get the morning after pill," you tell him, only comfortable while the music is playing.

Joel nods, eyes flicking to you nervously. "There ain't any drugstores open right now. I'll get it for ya in the mornin'."

You're quiet, watching the white of the lane markers disappear, in stark contrast against he black of the road. So few cars are out. "Are you okay to drive?" you ask as you pass a police cruiser.

He looks at you for a moment. "I only had two beers, I'm good." Even in the dim light of the truck you can see Joel is pale, not looking like himself. Nothing about this night has shown the Joel you've come to know and love deeply.

It seems like forever until you reach your neighborhood, and instead of pulling up to your driveway he pulls into his. Tommy’s truck is still there, and the lights in the house are still on.

“I’m gonna take care of ya,” Joel mutters, gently combing his fingers through your hair. You lean into his touch like a shelter pet seeking affection.

He lifts you out of the truck. The skirt of your sundress is stained and sticky with his come, but he picks you up and carries you bridal style towards the house.

Inside, Tommy and Sarah are playing a board game, looking up with expectant smiles as Joel walks in with you, and then their expressions turn serious. "Is she okay?" Sarah asks, getting up from her seat.

"She's fine, just a little ill." Joel says, bringing you upstairs. "Tommy, you can get yourself home," he says over his shoulder. "And don't tell your little girlfriend Sofia nothin'!" he warns. You remember that you and Joel were supposed to sleep over at your house tonight while she's working, but he's brought you here instead. He only sets you down once you're in his room, perching you on the bed and removing your boots and socks before he gets a bath running in his adjoining bathroom. You're in a daze with the night's events still fresh in your mind, and just go with the flow. Joel is treating you with utmost tenderness and you let him.

Sarah takes a peek in and you give her what you hope is a normal smile. "Tommy just left. Are you okay?" she asks after a beat.

You flash back to just an hour earlier, when Sarah's dad pounded you from behind, accusing you of cheating, or at least wanting to cheat, and how you can still feel the remnants of him leaking out of you. Jesus, you'd never tell her the truth.

"Yeah," you answer her, just as Joel comes out. The bathroom is already steamy from the hot water.

"To bed," he tells Sarah, and she lingers just a moment, as if deciding to disobey or not, before she finally goes to her room. Joel locks the door. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs to you, lifting you from the bed and bringing you into the bathroom. He gently undresses you, peeling your dress over your head, and your stomach flutters as he pulls down your underwear, the tiny scrap of material you'd hoped to surprise him with tonight. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" The look on his face is one you've never seen before: one of absolute concern, almost as if he were your own father, looking out for you after your first broken heart.

"I'm fine," you manage to smile. "You don't have to do all this for me.."

He shakes his head and helps you step into the warm tub. Sleeves rolled up, he gets a bath sponge and adds some soap, then gently glides the sponge across your skin. You haven't been treated to such luxury since you were a kid, suffering with congestion, and your mom would sit with you in the steam of a hot shower to loosen the crud in your lungs.

Joel's touch is gentle, brushing across your chest, slowly over your breasts, smiling a little at the sigh you give, watching your nipples rise to attention. He's in no hurry as he continues over your belly, down between your legs as softly as possible, wiping away his residue drying on your thighs. You give a little murmur, keeping his hand there, and he simply follows your lead. He drops the sponge and traces his bare fingers over your flesh. "Are you sure?" he asks, more than ready to do what you want him to, but he's already crossed the line in more ways than one tonight.

"Yes," is your breathy response, bringing his hand where you want it most, and he obliges, tracing your folds, gliding across your crease and finding you already slick. He closes his eyes, still feeling how you resisted earlier that night, still tasting the fear in your kiss as well. It gives him pause until you move his hand for him.

You're still just a kid, you don't know what you want he wants to say. He wants to scold you for wanting him, and even more, he knows he deserves to suffer for bringing you to this point. But the words are stuck in his throat, leaving a burning there that he bears in silence.

He loves you. He can't let you go. And he knows he doesn't deserve to keep you.

"Joel.." your voice breaks through his pensive thoughts, and when he doesn't answer right away he almost lets out a gasp as you rise up and pull him towards you by his shirt, kissing him fiercely. There's no point in resisting you. You're naked, skin soft and slippery from the soap. He grabs you and lifts you out of the tub, pulling you to him, wrapping you softly in a fluffy towel. You're not quite dry as he brings you to the bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses. "Babygirl," he mutters, gently kissing away the tiny rivulets of bathwater that drip down your skin, drying you off with his tongue, smiling as your skin jumps in reaction. From the delicate cleft between your collarbones, down towards your breasts, lapping up any stray droplets of your bathwater with his tongue.

Your cunt clenches in anticipation, breath growing heavy with the need to moan. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head as Joel's tongue swirls around each nipple, cupping each breast, running his thumb over your stiffened peaks. Already your thighs start to shake, and he grips them in his strong hands. "You're so responsive, baby.. I'm only halfway there.."

He's determined to take his time, as atonement for his earlier crudeness, his rough liberties with your body. He intends to soothe your ache with his kisses, with lips and tongue, wherever you need them, wherever you want them. You've put up with his brutishness, and now you're getting his gentleness.

He follows the patterns the droplets trace down your skin, gently nipping at your soft skin with his teeth, glancing up quickly to see if the moan you give is one of pleasure, and continues his path, smiling to himself as you whimper and shake, murmuring his name. To him, there's never been a sweeter sound, one that he savors as he finds his way down to your trembling thighs. He gently lifts them, his hard cock twitching as he hears your breath catch in your throat.

As he kisses the soft crease between your torso and thigh, he works at undoing his jeans, quickly undoing his belt buckle and freeing himself from the confines of his boxers. He eagerly takes himself in his hand as his tongue flicks over your sweet wet cunt, his hot breath on your sensitive flesh making you gasp. He hasn't had to handle himself since you started sleeping together, but he's resolved to make you come apart using his hands, his mouth. He'll handle his own pleasure until he's worthy enough to be inside you again.

Your hips lift to meet his ravenous lips and tongue, trying your damnedest to be quiet but a few squeals, a few gasps of excitement escape, and you know you'll be heard. You don't care.

Joel's tongue swirls over your clit, sending a beautiful shock that zips from your brain to your heart. You gasp and buck against him, fingers grabbing his hair. He shudders at the sensation, groaning against your flesh as his tongue dances over your heated skin, tasting you with a primal need. He fucks his fist eagerly, imagining it's your sugar walls wrapped around him, making him twitch and jerk in anticipation of cumming.

"Don't stop, don't stop," you whisper, begging for the continuation of this savage pleasure. He growls in response, not breaking the contact between his mouth and your cunt, his tongue and lips worshiping every inch of your quivering flesh. "Never," he whispers fiercely, his voice a guttural snarl. He takes his hand away from his over-sensitive cock for a moment to concentrate on you. "You taste so damn good, babygirl.."

"Fuck!" you whimper as your legs quiver. Joel is relentless in his ministrations, working tirelessly to drive you over the edge. His large, rough hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth works its magic, his own need growing with every moan, every shiver that racks your body. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" you say behind your own palms pressed to your mouth in a desperate bid for keeping quiet. Your hips lift up and Joel can feel your body tensing, the sweet sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips, the scent of your arousal filling his senses.

It's like lightning when you come, the pleasure uncoiling itself from the pit of your stomach as Joel continues, feeling your body shudder with every lap of his tongue. His body strains with the efforts of keeping himself in check. He strokes himself with newfound vigor, spurred on by your sweet-sounding moans, the beautiful sight of you laid bare, wrecked by your pleasure, your pussy pink, sensitive, and very drenched. He comes, a little of it landing on your thigh. He takes off his shirt and uses it to clean you up, gentle on your skin, murmuring his love for you. Getting undressed down to just his boxers, he spoons you, gathering your body against his, kissing your hair, hands caressing yours, hoping his love for you will erase whatever bad you think of him.

Not until the wee hours of the morning do both of you finally get to sleep. Waking up later, your body throbs, a pleasant soreness all over. You recall the night before, both the bad and the soft parts. Without one, you couldn't really have the other.

When you turn to face Joel he's not there. His side of the bed is empty, his spot cold and made up. You sit up, gathering the sheets around you. From downstairs there's the sound of the radio, or the TV, you can't tell, and Sarah's voice as she talks to someone. You feel a jolt of relief when you realize it's Joel, his deep voice booming in response.

Dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, you join them in the kitchen, shyly, as if you've never been a guest in their home before. They turn to you, and you meet Sarah's questioning eyes. "Good morning," is all you say.

"You're just in time, breakfast is ready," Joel announces, in a particularly goofy mood this morning. He does a double take, seeing you in his clothes, and you notice his gaze darken. He has to rein himself in while Sarah's in the room.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, and you can see she's bursting at the seams with questions about your night before you came home with her dad.

"Yeah, great," you find it impossible to stop a blush on your cheeks. As she goes to set the table, Joel takes your arm, presses a small kiss to the top of your head. "You should take your pill after you eat. I left it in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom," he whispers, letting go of you just as Sarah returns for silverware.

It's a nice, quiet morning. Joel made bagel breakfast sandwiches and too much bacon (as usual) and Sarah cut up fresh melon and strawberries. "You should have woke me up. I'd have been happy to help make breakfast," you tell them.

"Nonsense. You're our guest." Joel smiles fondly at you, and his glance flickers to Sarah. Your stomach does a flip flop as you worry that he's going to drop the bomb on her right now. But it would be the perfect time to tell her about your relationship, wouldn't it?

You feel a mix of relief and, oddly, disappointment as he changes the subject. The story is that yes, he took you out dancing, and yes, he got in a fight with someone who was harassing you. His knuckles are bruised, but that's the extent of the damage he took. Something about those bruises gets you wet. Joel was completely feral that night, and then tender afterwards. You admit to yourself you'd like to see that wild side again, and it shocks you.

Sarah just shakes her head at how bull-headed her dad can be. He's not violent, but he has that capacity and you witnessed it firsthand. She gives him a lecture, actually scolds him for his actions, and Joel nods, either going along with it or really taking her words to heart. Either way, you start to see that his own daughter takes the lead sometimes. She takes care of him, you realize, smiling as your heart melts at this scene.

Once you're full, Sarah asks if you want to hang out, go to the mall, the park, anything. "Maybe later," you tell her, catching Joel's look over her shoulder. It's a relief when she agrees, and gets ready to leave with friends for the time being.

"What should we do today?" you ask, getting up to rinse the dishes. Joel stops you in your tracks. "Hey, I'll do that. You go relax." He dares a kiss while you're alone. "I didn't tell you how good you look in my clothes, babygirl.. it's makin' me think all kinds of thoughts.." His hands are on your waist, drifting down to your hips as he nuzzles your neck.

"I'm thinking movies.. and sex. Lots of sex," you grin, turned on at the thought of having him to yourself for the rest of the day.

"Are you sure?" he asks, brow furrowed even as his face turns pink with desire. "I think we should talk about last night."

"Okay," you nod, arms crossed as you lean against the sink. "Don't ever do what you did, ever again." Your voice is stern, and part of you is pleased when Joel looks chagrined.

"I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget how new you are to all this, to.. being with me," he whispers, darting a glance towards the stairs on the lookout for Sarah. He rubs your arms. "I'm sorry. I won't be rough with you like that again."

"What?" Your filled with confusion. "No, not that. I meant you should apologize for accusing me of flirting with that idiot at the bar. You know I don't care about anyone else but you, Joel.."

It's his turn to look puzzled. "That's the part you're mad about, not the.. the rough stuff?"

"Turns out I didn't mind the rough stuff as much as I thought I would," your smile is askew.

There's a darkness in Joel's eyes when you say that, and it stirs your soul as he pulls you close. "I apologize for sayin' you were lettin' that asshole put his hands on ya. I was crazy jealous. You were turnin' a lotta heads last night."

"I was not," you giggle, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

"You were, and it made me proud and possessive at the same time." He sighs. "I shoulda handled myself better."

You kiss his cheek, savoring the little sigh he gives as he closes his eyes. "I forgive you.." You pull away slightly, fingertips stroking the stubble on his jaw. "This was our first argument as a couple."

"I hope it's the last," he says, bringing you close for a kiss on the lips.

With Sarah out for awhile, you settle in for a movie, take your morning after pill with a glass of water, and rest your head on Joel's lap as you watch Tombstone.

The tale of the old west has you absorbed, though you've seen this movie at least fifty times since you were a kid, mostly with your dad when you were younger. You feel Joel's thumb delicately swiping over your cheek, his hand smoothing over the dip and curve of your waist and hip. It's a comforting gesture that turns into one of playfulness, then desire.

His hand goes under your shirt, tracing patterns over your skin, creating goosebumps on your flesh. Your nipples harden and as if he can read your mind, he grazes his thumb in circles over the stiffened peaks. Your back arches, inviting more of his touch. Joel's touch grows possessive, fingers skating over your belly and down to your cunt, covered by his own pair of boxers. "That's the hottest thing ever, you wearin' my stuff," he says, his thick fingers teasing your folds, lightly skimming over your clit. You give a low whine as he teases you, circling your tiny bundle of nerves without actually putting pressure, then pressing just enough to make you want more before he takes the touch away again.

"Joel," you groan, and he quiets you with a kiss, pulling you up to him to sit on his lap. Your shirt is off, boxers pulled down. There's something more than the usual urgency that comes with your shared desire. Last night you crossed a line that can't be uncrossed, as if you've unlocked a new level of your relationship.

"On your back, darlin'," he says gruffly, getting up as you do so. He pauses the movie before going back to you, seeing you laid out on the couch. "Mine," he says, eyes taking in your body, from your innocent, beguiling eyes to the damp V between your legs. He sits in the splay of your legs and pulls your thighs over his, his cock jutting out through the hole in his boxers before he slides it in, his eyes flicking to your own, watching the look of astonishment there.

You feel vulnerable beneath him, and flashes of the previous night flitter through your mind. But you've made up your mind to trust him.

"You tell me if this feels uncomfortable, okay?" his voice is husky, almost a growl.

You tell him okay, breathing his name like an invocation, that same breath catching in your throat as you feel him gather up your wetness and spread it on your tight puckered asshole. Your question dies on your lips the moment you feel him start to move while his thumb circles your ass, gently delving in to tease, to test your limits. He thrusts again, deliberate and long strokes and still he gathers your wetness and uses it to press into your ass. "Is this okay, darlin'?" he asks, though your answer is already evident in the way your face scrunches in pleasure, the slight pull of your hips, welcoming him, even as you clasp around his invading fingers.

"That's my girl," Joel exhales, rocking steadily into your body. "Do you want more?"

"Mnh.." is all you're able to say until you force yourself to speak up. "Yes.." You gasp when he pounds into you faster, your hands on his forearms, nails digging into his skin. "Joel.. wait!" You shiver as he stops momentarily, a concerned look in his handsome dark eyes. "Remember, you can't come in me.." you tell him breathlessly.

"I won't," he smirks, thrusting slower than before as he gazes down at you, and you swear there's a look in his eyes that you've never seen before, not even from the previous night. You cry out as he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the rising nipple as your hips rise up. He hovers over your lips as he starts to thrust forward, fast and hard, watching, waiting to see your reaction, to see that one split second of worry.

When he knows he's about to explode he removes himself from your cunt then pressing just the first few inches of himself into your ass, loving the way your eyes get big, your face flushed with surprise. He gives a few shallow strokes before he comes, twitching as he grunts out his pleasure. When he pulls out, his leavings drip out of you.

"Joel.." you gasp, torn between being turned on and scandalized.

"Hang on, babygirl. I know you didn't come." He scoots down, letting your thighs bracket his head. "I didn't say I was done with you yet.."

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics

[ririsasy]

Let’s talk about the first kill

How heavy everything was for Deva, and also for Varadha, their circumstances, the land they were born into, their people and their way of lives, their fates and how they eventually have to turned into this demon at some point, like their ancestors who always long for fight and blood.

The way Deva was regretful at the outcome of what he had done, of what he became, looking down tearfully and pitifully, his eyes wondering around trying to grasp the reality of it all, finally it dawned on him about what just happened, almost like he came back to his sense after losing control and going auto-pilot in killing spree.

This must be his first kill ever, because when he escaped Khansaar he was just a young boy and I bet living with Amma he mustn’t gotten into trouble that he need to kill anybody, perhaps he had gotten into a fight with someone over some misunderstanding, after all he’s a strong big man, but I am sure he didn’t need to go as far as killing anyone in his path.

He was just a blacksmith, hard laborer that did honest job for a living just to get by, though he probably always sparring in his spare time, preparing for something, for a war that he was sure that one day he would be called to but more than that again he never really need to kill anyone before.

And yet after he landed in Khansaar, it didn’t take him a week to kill, even Deva himself felt it heavy in his soul, the rage that he had kept inside himself, he finally unleashed it and let it consumed him fully because that kind of beast has always been dormant inside of him, because this land awaits for him to spill blood.

The way Deva look up like he was asking the deity or anything at all above that might look over him, “is this who I truly am? Why you created me this way, are you listening? Do you condemn the path that I chose to seek justice?” And after that I think he made peace with who he was, closing his eye and believed that he didn’t do anything wrong, that his action was justified, his rage was justified and accepted the fact with new clarity that a vengeful angry demon in his veins is needed to cleanse this violent land, the symbolism wasn't lost on me either here that Deva was fully covered in blood like he was baptized in blood and rebirth into this new person.

Gone was his "innocent", he was ready now to take the path that's truly meant for him, a path that nobody dare to take because it will consume him and he might lost himself completely in this road, as Nietzsche said "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." This is never easy for Deva. It's going to take tolls in his soul.

That's why later on when got into 2017 present deva we got glimpse of him being haunted by himself, the demon that he saw on the mirror, that even he couldn't recognize it and is scared of that reflection, even his mother was aware of his presence that she tried her best to re-tame it again by forbidding him from even getting close to anything that could be used as a weapon because it could and would awaken the sleeping beast.

Let’s also observed Varadha’s reaction when he finally opened his eyes to see what Deva had done, what he finally became, he was at the brink of crying because this was the same overwhelming side of Deva that Varadha remembered when they were young.

Varadha knew that Deva had it in him to turn into this kind of fearsome man. Varadha remembered that memory as clear as a it was just happened yesterday how Deva could frightened him by the intensity of the things he could do even beyond Varadha’s wildest imagination. This man is untamable beast and Varadha just brought him back to the place that literally would make him lost control.

That’s why Varadha tearfully told him in prison later on that he wished he didn’t bring him back to Khansaar, he regretted his decision because what Khansaar would do to a man like Deva.

Varadha said he knew that this is how it would end once Deva came back to Khansaar, what he meant by that was that he knew that Deva wouldn’t be able to hold back the way Varadha had done for the past 25 years living amongst the beasts who basically do whatever they want in Khansaar because the law only applies to the weak while the lords and people in power is basically can do anything and people would close their eyes over it but not his Deva, Varadha knew it all too well the kind of man his deva is in the face of injustice.

Imagine how many many times Varadha was at his last straw that he almost couldn’t endure it and wish he could call Deva back to fix, to fight, to change the tide of Khansaar but he hold himself back thinking that Deva would do great anywhere else but not here in Khansaar, this place is evil, too volatile for Deva’s hot blood and not to mention the history of how his people was massacred in this exact same land, that’s why Varadha only brought Deva back when he literally see no way out, not for himself but for his brother, he called him to protect the only thing that Varadha deemed Valuable in his life, because nothing else left for him in Khansaar, Deva and his hope and his love and his everything, he had brought it all with him long time ago.

That’s why I think Baachi’s death that we all knew and speculated was by Deva’s hand turn Varadha into entirely different person. 😭

.

.

PS. Anyone who said that Prabhas didn't emot much as Deva then tell me about the innocent Deva that played with kids and a good son to his mother, the tortured soul Deva haunted by his past, the Deva that was so devoted to Varadha, the Deva that's possesive, the violence Deva, the soft hearted Deva that's basically always have tears in his eyes, those are all in one movie 😭 my man is giving his best and people be blind about all of this just because they like to judge too quickly without actually trying to understand the material fully first. 😓