#bloodbending | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sokkastyles · 14 days

Note

I read that post you reblogged about Katara using bloodbending to heal Zuko during the final Agni Kai, and honestly I would have loved it if that happened too. I've mentioned before in a previous ask that I wish bloodbending had been explored more in the narrative, especially Katara's complicated feelings about bloodbending. This is going to sound a bit morbid, but I'm kind of wondering if, after the encounter with Hama, do you think Katara would be kind of hyperaware of the water flowing throughout her own body or anyone else's? Would she feel tempted to try bloodbending again? Even though the first time she had to do so was to prevent Aang and Sokka from hurting each other, so she bloodbent Hama, and she found the whole thing disturbing, there's a part of me that wonders if Katara would still have a bit of morbid curiosity about bloodbending anyways. I know this sounds like I want Katara's character to be a bit darker, but what I really want is for Katara to be allowed to have these thoughts or this type of curiosity without her being made to feel like she's a bad person for it. Idk if any of this made that much sense, but I'm curious to know, what are your thoughts?

Katara unconsciously being hyper aware of the water around her and in other people's bodies after Hama is something that has made itself into my fics. Because bending is depicted in atla as part of who the person is, and I think keeping a bender from bending is like keeping someone from being allowed to move their arms and legs.

And once Katara knows this ability exists, not just bloodbending but everything Hama taught her that goes with it, like how to find the water in everything, she will find it impossible to not have this completely alter her bending and how she sees the world.

And, like with firebending, it's not the bending itself that is bad, it's what you do with it.

I love zutara fics that include bloodbending, not just the dark ones, but something I've explored a little in my fics is how it makes her more aware of Zuko's body and heightens her physical connection with him.

Bloodbending can work as a metaphor for consent, because it's not that it's inherently evil to have that kind of knowledge of another person's body, but it's about consent and trust. I see no reason why bloodbending can't be used to heal the same way that medical knowledge can be used both to heal or to kill and torture. (I'm thinking of that particular analogy because I'm reading Gene Wolfe's Shadow of the Torturer currently).

Like, I get that the show writers were trying to add complexity by showing the dark side of waterbending with Hama, but the thing is that while waterbending was always portrayed as good before, it was also portrayed in a very limited way. Katara is the last waterbender of her tribe, who had to learn on her own. "Some waterbending is bad, actually," isn't really a lesson she needed to learn, especially not from the only teacher she's ever had who can actually tell her about her own heritage. The unintended message is that Katara exploring a culture heritage that has been denied to her through war is bad, and it actually ends up limiting things instead of making them more complex. It's also another weird way the show dichotomizes combat waterbending and healing. Despite Katara gaining Pakku's respect, she is still getting the message from things like the Hama episode that using her bending for combat and not healing is wrong. The obvious solution is to make waterbending healing a form of bloodbending, and now that Netflix has made healing an actual learned bending form instead of something Katara is naturally good at, I have hope that this connection might actually be made. And this is a win win, because making healing a form of bloodbending actually achieves the complexity the original show was going for.

#katara #bloodbending #zutara

67 notes · View notes

pjohoo-reclists · 8 months

Text

Percy Jackson in Tartarus Fic Recs

A list of fics where Percy ends up in Tartarus and is forced to push his strength and powers to the extreme to survive. For similar content, I would recommend checking out my Dark Percy Jackson and Powerful Percy Jackson rec lists. Enjoy!

Pick My Poison by Bluestone_Dragon

T | 900 words | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Powerful Percy Jackson, Dark Annabeth Chase, Blood bending

When Percy confronts Akhlys, Annabeth doesn't turn away.

Dominus Veneni by Death_o7

T | 1.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Dark Percy Jackson, Tartarus, Cussing

HoO glossed over Percy's outburst in Tartarus too fast so I'm making an one shot from it.

Mind Control by DancingInTheSliverGlow

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Powerful Percy Jackson, Dark Percy Jackson, Percy controls poison

Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smokey corpses. Compared to that, the idea of controlling poisons was… easy. Percy glared at the poisonous lake around him. He focused, and reached with the part of his mind that allowed him to control water. The poisonous tide stopped. The fumes blew away from him and back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets. Akhlys took a hesitant step back. “What is this?!” She looked alarmed, scared even. Percy thought it was a good look on her. “Poison,” Percy snarled at her. “That’s your specialty, right?”

in your veins by ireekofinsolence

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Dark Percy Jackson, Blood bending, Fluff and Angst

He hated it. What Tartarus did to him. What he did in Tartarus. What he became.

A Game of Chess by tiredpjofan

G | 1.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Annabeth Chase, Blood bending

The fumes blew away from him – back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled towards her in tiny waves and rivulets. Akhlys shrieked. ‘What is this?’ ‘Poison,’ Percy said. ‘That’s your speciality, right?’ He stood, his anger growing hotter in his gut. As the flood of venom rolled towards the goddess, the fumes began to make her cough. Her eyes watered even more. Oh, good, Percy thought. More water. Percy imagined her nose and throat filling with her own tears. Akhlys gagged. ‘I –’ The tide of venom reached her feet, sizzling like droplets on a hot iron. She wailed and stumbled back. (Extract from 'House of Hades') -- What if Annabeth reacted differently to this scene? What if she encouraged it?

bury me underneath this bloody grave by keigold

M | 2.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Bob | Iapetus

Blood bending, Powerful Percy Jackson, Angst

There is no one here to stop him from reaching out with a bruised hand and snagging monster blood, grabbing ahold of their dancing molecules and tearing them apart - no one here to stop his descent into becoming the thing he feared the most. or; What if Percy went through Tartarus alone?

Rescue Mission by DancingInTheSliverGlow

T | 7.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Protective Poseidon, Hurt Percy Jackson, Powerful Percy Jackson

The elevator opened about two dozen cyclops immediately exited the doors. Unlike the cyclops serving in Tartarus and Gaea’s army, these were fitted head to toe with celestial bronze armor and weaponry. As soon as they stepped out of the Doors of Death, they assumed their thirty foot tall size. At the center of the group, Annabeth caught sight of a thirty foot tall figure eluding power - even more so than Bob, Hyperion, Krios, and Damasen combined. He was covered head to toe in armor, and held a huge green trident in his right hand. He looked furious, but also somewhat familiar. “No.” Hyperion said, in disbelief. "No - you Olympians, you never interfere-" "POSEIDON!" Tartarus snarled angrily. The sheer power in the primordial's words threatened to tear Annabeth's body apart. “Dad.” Percy croaked. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, with a terrifying amount of injuries and broken bones. Even more blood dripped out of his mouth, but his eyes were fixed on Poseidon. ~~~ Aka. Poseidon hears his favorite son suffering in the pit and rescues him.

Kill the Hero by maverickk

T | 13k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Betrayal, Dark Percy Jackson, Feral Percy Jackson

"A slow death!" Misery had crowed at him. "A death from a thousand poisons!" And it was. It was slow, and painful, and terrible, and Percy wished he could he could say he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemies. But it wasn't his death, it was Akhlys's—and she deserved so much worse. In which Percy Jackson goes A Bit Too Far, Annabeth Chase gets A Bit Too Scared, and the story changes for the worse.

Woven within the Chasm by Valenna

M | 14k+ | Ongoing as of 23/6/23

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Powerful Percy Jackson, Blood bending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Percy manages to save Annabeth from falling into Tartarus. It just so happens that he can't save himself, Nico stumbles after him in a desperate attempt to rescue before they are both sent plummeting into the abyss. Annabeth is tasked to lead the remaining Seven on the quest to meet the two demigods on the opposite side at the Doors of Death, meanwhile Percy and Nico fight through the perilous hellscape, pain and torture in every direction. Through hardship, strengthening bonds, and some much needed conversations, Percy and Nico forge a bond stronger than Tartarus itself.

The Stories Of Tartarus (Are Better Left Untold) by AthenaHyperFox

Not Rated | 17k+ | Ongoing as of 2/8/23

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson/Apollo, Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Powerful Percy Jackson, No beta we die like Percy's self esteem, Deity Percy Jackson

Perseus was always meant for more. What if Percy ignored Annabeth’s pleas down in the depths of Tartarus?

those shattered glass shards, blood flows like a river by with_magic

T | 18k+ | Ongoing as of 9/8/23

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo

Percy falls alone, Dark Percy Jackson, Curse of Achilles

something inside him cracked - like a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach. percy falls into tartarus. he wasn’t supposed to go alone.

build me up from bones by phronima

T | 19k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Jason Grace

BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Jason Grace, Ascension

“We should look for the Doors of Death,” Jason suggested, frowning at the barren landscape. “Nico found it, right?” “Along with most of Gaea’s army, yeah,” Percy reminded him, but it was their only shot at getting out. “I asked him to lead the others there. Uh, up through the sunny path.” Jason squeezed his hand carefully, an attempt at a smile on his lips. “Then we’ll meet them there.” (Or: Percy and Jason fall into Tartarus together, leaving the mortal world behind for the horrors of the pit. They are forced to journey through the darkness, battling monsters and gods, while stuck in a desperate tug-of-war between death and immortality.)

my throne of destruction by DiveInsideMyMind

T | 53k+ | Ongoing as of 4/4/23

Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo

BAMF Percy Jackson, BAMF Nico di Angelo, Betrayal

Enemy. The word never even came close to describing him before. But now? Now it’s the only word that could accurately categorize the person he’s become. And he doesn’t hate it. previously titled “God Damn Right You Should be Scared of Me” (Blood bender Percy Jackson)

Eclipse of Olympus by MementoVivere11

G | 91k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Destiny, Romance, Dark

Percy and Annabeth never made it out of Tartarus, just as the Gods intended. To protect themselves from a prophecy that warned of Olympus’ end, the Gods kept it a secret from all but a few demigods. But with Gaea on the verge of waking, and without two of Olympus’ greatest heroes, can the Gods still achieve victory? Even if they do, will their actions stop the secret prophecy from coming to pass?

Blood-Red Herring by DAsObiQuiet

T | 142k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Tartarus Survival, BAMF Percy Jackson, Monsters

The Olympian gods have a history of making monumentally bad decisions and not learning from their mistakes. Of course that'll come back to bite them, and everyone seems to think Percy will be the one doing the biting. Thing is, he's tired and just wants to live a normal life. Too bad literally no one believes him except his friends, and now he has to survive the consequences of yet another one those monumentally bad decisions. AKA: Tartarus nearly destroyed Percy the first time, in more ways than one. It's worse the second time. So much worse. And this time, he has no way out. He desperately clings to the one thing he knows without a doubt: 'I have to stay alive for when Annabeth comes for me'. Because she will.

Tempting the Fates by likegallows

T | 144k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Action/Adventure, Slow build, Angst

The seven have uncovered the Athena Parthenos and are scrambling to save the world, and their camps, all on a tight deadline. And then Annabeth and Percy teeter on the edge of the pit. Though he saves Annabeth, Nico fails to save Percy and the two plummet into the abyss. The child of Poseidon must battle monsters, Titans, and the darker side of his own growing powers alongside the son of the Underworld. In Tartarus, the most ferocious demons are their own. To save the world they must survive, but to survive they must learn to trust the other and most importantly to forgive.

Falling For You by 1967HogwartsGoddess

T | 270k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & The Seven

BAMF Percy Jackson, Powerful Percy Jackson, Blood bending

In an alternate series of events, Percy saves Annabeth from falling into Tartarus. Too bad he can't save himself. As Annabeth leads the Seven on a treacherous quest to meet him at the Doors of Death, Percy fights through a wasteland of pain, torture and difficult choices. Surrounded by monsters, alone in the darkest corner of the underworld, he starts to question whether he's a good kid anymore. Final chapter is an AU following on from chapter 66.

199 notes · View notes

melonlord05 · 13 days

Text

Katara bloodbending 🩸

#appa atla #momo atla #katara #kataang #zutara #aang #prince zuko #sokka #toph beifong #bloodbending #avatar the last airbender

54 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 22 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

5K notes · View notes

erisenyo · 1 month

Text

I'd say we can blame the Zukka server for this one except it's been kicking around for a while all on it's own

NSFW ahead - Zutara, bloodbending, humiliation kink, D/s vibess, conensual but not sane or safe, I think we can see where this is going

The first time she has him on his knees it’s an accident—almost.

Katara grunts as Appa takes off, instinctively shifting her weight to counterbalance the heave of take-off, the rush of bloodbending still in her ears. It’s a sharp, jagged thing, sticky in the way it clings to her bending, tugging her awareness away from the rolling ocean and toward the smallest rush instead, looking to grab and hold and crush the water to her will and she knows it’s not water but it’s close enough and she’s just doing what she has to do, what Zuko came with her to do, so for him to turn away like he’s horrified by her, like she’s the monster when he—

“What was that?” Katara snarls, the words bursting out of her, her bending thrumming like she can feel the pulse of every venule in her fingertips.

“What?” Zuko says after a pause, delayed and not looking at her, acting like there’s anything at all to see except ocean over the side of Appa’s saddle, when the only thing around to look at is—

“Back there,” Katara snaps, bending throbbing along with the words and her pulse, high and wild and looking for something to grab onto and that’s the hardest part of bloodbending, the way it wants to be used once it’s been called, a rising flood pressing against the dam of her control. “On that ship, when you—”

“My information was out of date,” Zuko has the gall to shrug, even stiffer than usual about it and nearly entirely turned away, like she’s too disgusting to even look, at the edge of the saddle like he’d be leaping out of it if he had anywhere to go. “But it’s fine, we got his location, we just have to go to—”

“I’m not talking about information,” Katara spits, “I’m talking about you.”

A jerk, his voice coming high and thin. “I—me?”

“You think you’re better than me?” Katara hisses, wishing she could revel in that fear except all she wants his for him to snap and snarl back so that she’d have the excuse to— “Like you’ve never done what you had to do? I don’t need your judgment, Prince Zuko.”

“What?” he says, almost turning toward her before he catches himself. “No, I—” Like he has any ground to try to deflect when he’s acting like she’s something too shameful to even acknowledge. “You just—”

“Shut! Up!” The bending lashes out with the force of it, whipping and rolling right at the object of her rage and freezing his jaw if not his throat.

So when he moans in the sudden silence, they both hear it, clear and lingering even in the rush of wind and waves.

“What—” Katara pulls back, her shock quickly twisting into ready anger as he gasps and whirls fully away like she’s— “Are you mocking me? You think this is a joke?” she snarls as he just shakes his head, mute.

“No, no,” he says, the words tripping out of him, “I don’t, I don’t, I—"

“This isn’t some trick—”

“—I know, I know, you’re—"

“—that you can just laugh at,” she shouts, the bending lashing out of her mid-word, snapping his jaw shut and wrapping into his veins and arteries and forcing him to turn and face her.

It’s a rush of adrenaline-fueled rage and she’s braced to counterbalance his resistance, so she overspins when he goes limp into it instead. She stumbles, instinctively yanking him down as she finds her balance and the way he folds right to his knees, not even fighting.

Katara only half-releases him in surprise this time, but it’s enough for his whimper to go from strangled to loud and clear halfway through, the sound loud and clear, fear and—and making fun of her, when they’re—when this whole thing was his—when they wouldn’t even be here if not for—

“Stop mocking me,” Katara screams, her hands clawing the air as she purposefully reaches out this time, gripping him tight and making him feel her, making sure he feels her bending everywhere.

“I’m—not—a—joke,” she snarls, setting her feet and shoving away the part of her that wonders what Aang would think of her using all their time practicing bending in the air for this and focusing on the wild feeling of exactly what she could do to him instead.

She lifts Zuko bodily into the air until he’s barely supporting his own weight, back arched and arms splayed wide and knees just graving the saddle, making sure he feels her power down to his fucking toes. She strangles any more sounds as she flattens his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his head kicking back, and she can feel the way his pulses pounds, feel the flush of fear in him, the blood rushing to his cheeks and extremities and his—

Zuko lets out a sound that any other time would be protest as she releases him so abruptly he collapses down onto the saddle. But she knows its just gasping for breath and the shock of regaining control of himself after—after straining, ice replacing the rolling fury in her veins as she stares at Zuko fumbling up onto his knees and back, scooting away, his knees drawn up like—like protection. Like he needs protection from her. His chest heaving and mouth wide and face turn away so she can only see his scar and just a sliver of skin, usually pale but still flushed red with—

Katara whirls away, fists clenched at her side as she tries to will away the voice too like Aang’s in the back of her head murmuring ‘two-headed rat viper,’ sadly and quietly and understandingly, like there’s anything here to—

“Get us to Yon Rha,” Katara grits out, the words rough in her throat like she was the one fighting to scream, and Zuko just gasps behind her, breaths harsh, and Katara decides that that is answer enough.

The second time she has him on his knees, it’s on purpose. Mostly.

Because the problem is she can’t stop thinking about it, that—that sound. About that sound, and about the way he’d looked at her.

So in snatches and glances and sidelong looks, through the rest of the night and into the morning she watches him. Through the trek across the nondescript, nothing island to the nondescript, nothing village to the nondescript, nothing man who killed her mother, she keeps him in the corner of her eye.

And she knows that he can tell she’s watching, she can see it in the way he holds himself and the angle of his head and in the mortified redness that never truly leaves his face. In the stiffness of his body when she makes the rain fall like daggers around them. And in the look in his eye when he snatches furtive looks back, too, even though she doesn’t know how she knows it, something in his gaze she can’t place except that it makes her think again of that sound, and what it felt like to have him helpless in her hold, and he way he’d curled his legs up in front of himself after…

“Why didn’t you fight me,” Katara demands later as they pause by a stream, Zuko crouching down to wipe the sweat from his face and neck, his hands, cupping water into his mouth and the power of the moon is still lingering in her chi and for a while moment she imagines she could cup that water in her bending, too, cup it and follow it past his lip and—

“You didn’t even try,” she snaps when he just avoids her gaze, temper scraped raw by the idea of being denied this on top of being denied the struggle, on top of all the righteous fury crested inside her with nowhere to go. “You always—you fight why wouldn’t you—”

She breaks off, clenching her hands into fists against the jagged surge in the midst of the rolling ocean of her bending, Zuko hunching forward even more and still not answering, hunching over himself just like before, which means this is the same, which means—

Which means not what she thinks its means. Which means she was wrong then, and she’s wrong now, and he’s just mocking her again, mocking her like—

“It’s like you want to be on your knees,” she accuses, remembering the way he—blurting the words before she even fully thinks them, bravado over uncertainty and then when he just looks away, doesn’t even have the nerve to make a sound, “Or like you want me to put you there.”

Zuko just swallows hard, a flush crawling up his face, and Katara feels like her own face is flushing, barely-banked adrenaline surging back to life and her bending along with it.

“Toph told me how to spot a liar, you know,” she says, watching his lips part as he gasps and she has no idea where the threats are coming from. “I can feel hearts beating and pulses pounding just as well as her.” The quick flash of his tongue, like his lips are suddenly dry. “Would you be lying now if I checked you?”

Katara doesn’t know why she holds her breath, jagged anticipation in her throat, but it’s the only reason she hears the whimper that slips past his bitten lip over the sound of the stream, the noise that’s fear but also—it’s also—

“Should I check?” she says, the words coming out taunting, challenging, her bending shivering with readiness, her awareness sharpening from the heavy rush of the stream to the tight-quick-fast pulse on front of her as Zuko pants a moment, still half-folded forward.

Then, unsteady and low, gold eyes suddenly peaking through his lashes and the fall of his hair, “If it would make you feel better.”

Katara bloodbends him. Not like before, not with that sharp urge to wrench, but shoving into every bit of him hard enough to make him gasp, to make his whole body jerk with it and then go still, caught as she holds, flexing against every bit of him and—

“You like this,” she accuses as she quickly releases him, like that does anything to erase the bright feel of the pathways and pools of his blood from her mind.

And Zuko shakes his head, chest heaving and gasping and that’s familiar to her, too familiar, but the flutter of his lashes along with it—

“Are you lying?” she challenges, and she wonders if he can feel the potential of her bending pulling at his blood as he pants, open-mouthed a moment, body going tight.

Then, “You could check,” he rasps, and it’s such an open invitation that even half-expecting it, Katara still stares a moment before grabbing hold again, pushing to the liquid core of him but leaving his throat free because the way he keens, like he wants it, like she doesn’t even need to check his throbbing pulses to know—

Zuko is still folded half over himself, so she makes him straighten to sit back on his heels, first. Then she makes him drag up his head to look at her, makes him keep his eyes open until they bead and water and she’d do something about that except for the way the strain against her grip is like he’s trying to tilt back into it. And then she forces his knees to spread, wide enough to draw out a panting whimper and further than she expected and more than enough to see the bulge in his pants.

“You like it,” Katara says, her mouth suddenly dry—adrenal response, a voice like Yugoda’s says in the back of her head—as she stares at the dark fabric straining against the length of him, the way she can see his shape so clearly, see him press flat by the fabric against his own leg and it can’t be comfortable and—

Katara gives him enough play to talk, to argue, to say its stress or adrenaline or just the natural responses of a teenage male body experiencing hormonal surges. But he just groans, letting out a low, pleading sound of denial and she can feel the way he strains to close his thighs but she still has him in her hold and she’s attuned to his blood, she can feel the way he’s reacting, she has felt it, and even if she couldn’t she can see.

“You like it,” she says again, more to herself except she can see the way he bites his lip against it even as she can feel the rush of his blood, can feel exactly where it’s pooling and even if he doesn’t like it, his body undeniably does.

Except Katara thinks he might like that, too. Because his invitation is still hanging in the air and she can’t fight the urge to figure this out, figure him out, arching his back—he likes that—and flexing his fingers—he’s indifferent, or what baselines as indifference for him in the current situation—and closing his lips—oh, he really like that, that gives her a new baseline. And she can see the hardness between his legs, the one she isn’t causing, at least not with bending—at least not directly with bending. And she can see the way he gasps and pants as much as she’ll allow it, hear the half-pleading groans that don’t entirely muffle against his sealed lips.

And the way she can feel the strain of his body, what he fights and what he tries to sink into, the shivers and tremors and Tui and La the jerks of his hips that she presses instinctively to stillness, and then again because the way it makes him moan—she shoves with her bending, gripping and pushes and finally following the flow of blood as much as controlling it, making her presence known beneath his skin, deliberately pressing it through him inch by inch and feeling heady with the precision of it, with that she can make his body do, what she can make it feel.

There’s the increased blood pressure throbbing against her pending, the quickened pulse, the blood rushing away from the heart, so like fear except for the way the blood is also flushing up his abdomen and Katara is fascinated by the way she can feel the steady spread of it before she ever sees the wash of red reach his neck and face.

There’s the blood stiffening his nipples, erectile tissue going hard just like his already-full penis, Yugoda’s voice again brisk and papery in the back of Katara’s mind, talking about arteriolar dilation and increased blood flow, about supraspinal centers and spinal reflex mechanisms and Katara wonders wildly which one is, wonders when exactly he got hard, and why, and how and—

Zuko’s blood throbs against her bending like it’s in her own veins and Yugoda’s clinical vice in memory talks through the stages of male arousal, Katara noting each one, wondering what this would feel like with her healer’s sense instead of the jagged sharpness of bloodbending but it’s impossible to do both with Zuko gasping and straining and throbbing this way, with the way she can feel his flush rising even hotter, blood rushing even lower, feel he way he swells even further, so much it has to hurt and the sound he makes says maybe it does but that he doesn’t mind, his muscles straining against her hold, a textbook case of male arousal and on a woman she’d feel—

Katara yank her bending so hard back to herself that Zuko cries out with it, his entire body arching against the hold that’s no longer there. His hips jerk against nothing, a wordless protest breaking past his lips, then another as he falls forward to catch himself on hands and knees, head bowed and body visibly clenching still, gasping almost like sobs with every breath, fingers digging into the dirt.

“You like it,” Katara finally says, low, watching the flex of his fingers into the dirt, the humiliated hunch of his shoulders and flex of his hips. “You like not liking it,” she realizes, staring another moment and feeling the echo of his throbbing blood before suddenly whirling to stomp back to the path and the beach and Appa, trying not to listen for how long it takes Zuko to follow and forcibly shoving away the awareness of her own pulsing blood.

#fic writing #my writing #Zutara #bloodbending #This...might become a full fic #This *wants* to become a full fic. full of kinky smut and characterization via smut and exploring kink by making all the mistakes first #Something something Katara having a lot of rage and power and lashing out and learning to wield it wisely and thoughtfully and responsibly #But not to be afraid of it #And Zuko riding the thrill and fear of adrenaline of offering himself ot her and the release of being the one to decide how he is controlle #And learning to sset boundaries and enjoy the pleasure his body can give him and not just punish himsself #Anyway. Much to think about...

64 notes · View notes

w1ldfeatherxx · 3 months

Text

I hate the fact that bloodbending was demonized and made illegal in LoK. Bloodbending could've been insanely useful in medicine, it could've saved lives. Just because something sounds creepy and has been used to hurt others, doesn't mean it's inherently evil or problematic. If a part of waterbending is considered "problematic" enough to be forbidden, why not ban all kinds of bending altogether? You could suffocate people with airbending the air out of their lungs (remember Zaheer from LoK?), you could burn people alive with little effort using firebending and hell, you could pulverize people into fine paste just using earthbending. Compared to these, death by bloodbending sounds rather quick and merciful.

#the legend of korra #avatar the last airbender #atla katara #atla #my ramblings #my thoughts #atla fandom #katara #waterbending #bloodbending #hama #atla hama #avatar: the last airbender

103 notes · View notes

batchild9000-blog · 2 months

Text

Arm wrestling

Preface:

I recently watched TLOK for the first time, and the idea for this has been floating around in my head for a hot minute. If I don’t divest my system of it, the chances of me being productive tomorrow are slim to none. o7 god speed soldier. Also I love Bolin and Opal, but it is inconvenient to consider, so we will say that the relationship ended naturally at some point after the series.

It’s hot. It’s always fucking hot in here, but tonight the unseasonable warmth makes it unbearable. Even though the sun had been down for several hours, the black star filled night was no respite. The buzzing of the city kept these alleys and hole-in-the-wall bars well above sweating temperature. It reminds you of the frantic beating of bees' wings attempting to assassinate an unworthy queen with their body heat. You suppose you’re that queen.

The crowd you have gathered is smaller than usual, but that ought to be expected with how terrible the weather is. Nobody in their right mind would be in a place like this on a night like tonight. Another bead of sweat slides down the small pieces of hair that have fallen about your face, red from both the heat and from exertion. You take another swig from the nearly empty water skin at your side. Shit. You’ll need to refill that soon; dehydration is NOT an option. The buzzing crowd needed your attention though. Beneath the flickering yellow bulbs of the bar their eyes seem almost predatory. Shaking off the feeling you stood, plastering an arrogant smirk on your face, before addressing them.

“So… Who is my next challenger hmm? Anyone here think they’re stronger than tough guy over there?” The man you gestured to, whom you had just beaten handily at a wagered arm wrestle, sneered, and slapped several coins onto the bar before storming out. He didn’t even finish his drink. Walking over to the abandoned pint glass (well there’s no sense in wasting it) you point to a large bearded man who had been watching the match intently. “How about you. I’m sure you could beat me! I’ll bet 20 yuans that you couldn’t!” Picking up the drink you sniff, and determining it to be palatable, throw it down. It’s extra water right? At least you tell yourself that as it burns down your esophagus. You stand there for a minute, goading the crowd to approach you. On busier nights it may only take seconds for another pompous dude to walk up, and challenge you. They often do so without seeing the previous round, and only because they believe it to be easy money. Why wouldn’t I be able to beat some unathletic, five foot nothing girl? She’s probably drunk, and overestimating herself… On this night however, your swift victory drew almost every eye in the spot, making other challengers wary. A sting shot up the tendons of your right arm. Maybe it's a bad idea to push your luck like this. Before you can really consider it, a tall young (pretty) man practically bounces toward you.

“I’ll arm wrestle you!!!” A more genuine smile threatens to break your mask. Who is this kid? He ran up to you like a puppy. You can almost see a tail wagging behind him. Wait what? You can for sure see a tail. OH, ok, there’s a fire ferret in his shirt. Weird, but not as weird as you thought, anyways. He just looked so excited. You know it’s going to suck to break his spirit. Oh well.

“Alright then, what’s your bet?” The man shuffles in place, rifling through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a couple yuan. Your eyebrow arches at the small wager, and you sigh. There’s no sense in wasting it. Looping back to your table, you set down ‘your’ drink on the empty next table over. Looking with resolve at the green eyed man, you place your elbow in the middle of the table, hand opened outward. Under the new lighting something about him strikes you. “Wait a minute, you’re in the movers aren’t you? I didn’t recognize you at first without the shorts!”

“It’s true. I guess I can’t go anywhere these days without getting recognized.” the man commented to the small group that finally caught up with him. The spiky haired man to his left held his brow in one hand, and was rubbing his temples slowly. The actor looked back at you, beaming. “I’m Bolin, or as you may know me, Nuktuk, hero of the south!” The fire ferret tucked into his shirt scurried onto his shoulders as he said it, framing his head like one of the mover posters you’ve seen around. You giggled at them. They had to have practiced that. (This guy was also a pro bender at one point right? This might be a VERY bad idea.)

“I’m Y/N, Hero! Of” you glance for a moment around you at the seedy dive, “Well its nothing too important.” Despite your better judgment you stay. Bolin grasps your hand in his. Hoping to the spirits the redness on your face hadn’t deepened because of his hand holding yours, you rattle off the challenge rules.

“Elbows must be in contact with the table for the entire round, the loser is the first person who's hand back touches the table, and no weapons… You wouldn’t believe how many people bring weapons.” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. Crucially, ‘no bending’ has never been included in your standard rulebook. It helps to believe that what you’re doing isn’t REALLY lying, or illegal. It’s just misleading. You nod at a customer beside you, whom you had solicited previously to start the other matches. They sigh, but begrudgingly say, “Three. Two. One. START.” You tend to start matches without any help. You never want to really hurt anyone’s pride. You just want their money. After struggling for approximately half a second though, it is clear that you are physically outmatched. This fact isn’t helped by your distraction at the prominent veins coiling up his forearm to his bulging bicep that dwarfs your own significantly. Shit. Ok, panic button. With your left arm hidden beneath the table you begin bending, little by little. The familiar burning pain coursed through your right arm as the muscle fibers stiffened, pulled taut manually by your bending. It isn’t really blood bending, that’s illegal, and it isn’t even on anyone else! All your doing is just giving yourself an edge, and it’s not blood really, you’re just kinda messing with the muscle tissue. Your, and Bolin’s hands began to rotate the opposite direction. The shock in Bolin’s face is hidden from you, as your eyes were shut, your face screwed up in agony. One thing about the pain, it made the act more realistic. You had Bolin’s hand probably three inches from the table surface when something unexpected happened.

You stopped moving. Your surprise overcame the pain for a moment, just long enough to steal a glance at the earthbender’s face. Pure determination molded his features into a stone wall. His arm too, was like stone. No person had ever been able to stop you in your tracks like this. For a moment you were both completely still. The next moment the air was punctuated by a loud snap. You let go immediately, your bending forgotten, as a scream of shocked agony tore through you. Bolin let go, the offending arm flopping uselessly to the table. The jolt of the fracture on the hard table sent another wave of pain up through your shoulder… and that's about the last thing you remember from before you awoke here.

Bolin’s perspective:

Bolin screamed probably as loud as you did after breaking your arm. Mako’s eyes blew out wide as he realized what happened. “What did you do?!” Makos voice piped up for the first time since arriving. Bolin, who had stood, and was now supporting your limp form was having a little bit of a freak out. “UM.” he said. “I was just arm wrestling, and her arm… and then she passed out..” Bolin was almost at the point of tears. Mako, stood, and shook his shoulder. “Hey. Calm down, we’ll just take her to Korra, she can heal it. But what the hell? How do you just snap someones whole arm?” The last comment did not in fact, help him to calm down. Bolin pulled you into a fireman’s carry, your broken arm hanging free. As the two left the bar, unconscious you in toe. The bartender didn't even look up. Prick.

“You broke her arm?” Korra’s voice echoed in the open courtyard of air temple island. Realizing her mistake, she switches to a harsh whisper while leading the trio to a fountain surrounded by stone benches. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, messy from sleep. “And why did you bring her here? There’s a hospital in this city for a reason, they have perfectly capable healers.” Despite her words, she pulled a cord of water from the fountain, sculpting it into a gentle glowing blob around the point of fracture.

“Air temple island happened to be closer.” Mako replied, not mentioning that the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Bolin had settled behind you, resting your head on his lap instead of the hard stone. He felt incredibly guilty, and it showed in every line of his face.

“She’s going to be okay right? I’ve never seen someone just pass out like that.” Korra, sensing his concern, answered.

She’ll be alright, honestly the fracture itself isn’t that terrible. You’ve gotten hit worse in the arena… but.” The avatar trailed off, almost confused, focusing more intently on the arm she was healing.

Your perspective: Your eyes fluttered open, met by a set of brilliant green ones. The light of the dive didn’t do them justice. Now in the clear starlight and gentle glow, they are breathtaking. What is that glow anyways? Turning your gaze (rather reluctantly) you see your arm, coated in warm light. Is that the avatar? Shit. You finally got yourself killed with that stupid scam. At least you made it to somewhere nice in the afterlife. Or maybe you were just in the weird loopy time right before death. Bolin’s relieved voice convinced you that you were in fact not dead though.

“She’s awake!” he exclaimed, strong hand rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder where you lay on his thighs. (ON HIS WHAT). You stuff down the jolt you felt at that realization, hoping that the avatar couldn’t feel your heart rate increasing. Oh yeah, the avatar. You sat up, the awkwardness of the moment finally hitting you. You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Haha, it takes more than that to take me out… um. Hi. the avatar.” you glance up again at Bolin. I guess this guy really is famous.

“Hi. Korra is fine” her voice clipped short, you thought for a moment she must be angry, but her eyes were closed, and her brow furrowed in deep concentration. OH. You pulled your arm out of the water reflexively.

“Oh, I really am sorry. Thank you for fixing my arm, I really appreciate it.” Your wet sleeve dripped a trail behind you as you glanced around you, stopping short as you finally realized your location. Bolin followed you up off the bench.

“You should really take it easy for a minute! You fainted, and I broke your arm! I really am sorry about that by the way. You are like REALLY strong by the way. Like crazy strong. He caught up to you, and placing a supportive hand on your upper back, tacked on another “I’m sorry for breaking your arm.” for good measure.

“I.” you look back, Korra now standing with her arms crossed in front of her, Mako mirroring his stance (I don’t care that she doesn’t know his name, I’m not writing that in. We’ll say she knows it from pro bending, OK?). Korra broke the silence of your less than half hearted explanation.

“Something isn’t right. The fracture healed perfectly, but there’s something else wrong with your arm. It’s almost like its filled with scar tissue. I’m surprised you can even move it!” Your eyes go wide.

“Um.” you mutter, looking once more around at the gazebos and courtyards of air temple island for a good escape route. Not seeing one, you resign yourself to your fate. “Yeah. I guess I owe you an explanation.” you tilt your head to one side, looking once more at Bolin’s adorable, now confused, face. As you sit down once again Korra reaches for another ball of water, but you wave her off. “It’s alright.” she lets it flow back into the fountain.

“So I run this scam. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I only take what people are willing to throw away.” That bit is mostly for yourself. “I just take advantage of people's preconceptions! Nobody thinks that I can beat them physically, and they’re generally right, so I level the playing field.” You trail off, hesitating to admit to them what you refuse to admit to yourself. “I just bend my arm. I’ve never done it to anyone else, I don’t even know if I could.”

Korra cuts you off, and you’re grateful. Hot tears have begun to sting behind your eyes, you raise your face to the starlight, fending them off.

“You’re a bloodbender.” the word falls through the pit in your stomach, making your extremities blanch cold in the warm air.

“NO.” you shudder, and the tears fall silently. “I am just a person trying to make a living! I never asked for it. I never even wanted to. But it’s here, and it’s mine. So I use it.” The words are chopped, and breathy in the hot nighttime. “Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry I misled you, I’m sorry about your money.” You step toward Bolin. Digging through your pockets for the handful of yuan he had presented you. Failing to find it you glance down, but a second later you find your face buried in soft green linen. Bolin’s arms around you are firm and unwavering. You cling to him like a mollusk on the rocks, as you begin to cry in earnest.

“It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” He says softly, and it breaks you. Silent sobs rack your chest. As your sin is laid bare before the starlight, and you are forgiven. (is that too dramatic, the catholic guilt is coming in clutch) You stay like that for a minute, and your breathing calms. Finally you pull back, tearstained eyes meeting his. “I know what that’s like. To do what you need to to survive. You’re going to be ok. I promise.” His assurance threatens to send you into tears again, but for now you just look away. Pulling his hand forward, tracing the lines of his palm with your fingertips, you sniff. “Thank you.” squeezing his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

And then they get married and live happily ever after the end! byeeee

hopefully I can actually be productive now.

Also I’m not going to proof read or edit this 🤷‍♀️

#tlok #tlok korra #avatar the last airbender #the legend of korra #bolin #bolin x reader #hurt/comfort #bloodbending #afab reader #female reader

68 notes · View notes