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yesimwriting · 6 months

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Heyy ya!! Hwo you doing? I wanted to ask maybe you can write Coriolanus x reader when he gets to district after just finishing training for pacekeepers, or maybe where his tribute just arrived to the capitol and the reader maybe says the “what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?” Line? ❤️

A/n the turn around for this was so fast for me 😭 i got excited

hi!! i love these prompts and am so glad for the excuse to write something for him 😭,, also i didn't blatantly make the reader the district 12 tribute bc i didn't want to necessarily cute lucy gray out all together, but it's clear that she's from a poorer district and that being assigned to mentor her is an insult to the Snow name,, also reader pulls a katniss and volunteers for a younger family member bc the irony of that scratches an inch in my brain

Summary: After the very public slight of being assigned to mentor a female tribute from a lower district, all Snow can think about is the uphill battle that winning the Plinth prize will now be. Until, he realizes, that he's been given the first ever district volunteer who seems to have a quality that makes people care about her.

Warnings: my first time writing for a specific character, Coriolanus's internal thoughts are a little softer than they should be at some points but i love the accidental and deeply impractical crush trope so

---

Of Angels

The desperation masquerading as fierceness behind her eyes is undeniable. Coriolanus feels the way your panic, your shock as the weight of your own words dawn on you in his chest. He swallows, forcing down the feeling.

Take me--take me instead! The phrase is repeated again and again, shaky and pleading.

Something about the display, about the 12-year-old girl that desperately tries to cling to you as peace keepers push you forward, makes it hard to watch. Even worse, it makes it impossible to look away.

The first ever district volunteer. A suicide mission or a--a desperate call for attention? A decision made out of hysteria that you're already starting to regret?

He can't decide as the footage of you being ushered onto stage is played. Surely, Dr. Gaul and other Capitol officials won't find this acceptable. The concept of volunteering has always been reserved for the careers, the districts that produce well fed children that train for this. It's a way to allow them to pick their best, their strongest. It is not a way for someone to lay down their life for someone else.

"Are you saying you volunteer?"

You blink, eyes wild and bright as you openly survey the crowd. Coriolanus briefly thinks that you might attempt to take what he doubts is an actual out. You seem to be considering something before finally nodding once. The motion so stiff it makes you look smaller, like the girl whose name was originally called.

"Yes," you mumble. The softness of it is a personal accost. Your choice was made in panic, but that isn't who you are. You're not much of a performer or a fighter or even bold...you're not much of a chance at the Plinth Prize. "I-I volunteer."

----

In the end, he had come because of Tigris. She had insisted that there was a way to see his tribute as more than just another face from the districts, as more human than animal.

She loves that little girl enough to die in her place. If I was her, I'd want someone to tell me that my choice meant something. I'd want someone to show that they care about me.

The words had felt dismissible at first, but the more he thought about them, the more it made sense. Panem had seen the entire thing, had seen the way that his tribute continued to comfort the younger girl even after sentencing herself to death. There's a story worthy of a show in that.

If he can convince you to go on camera, to speak of the girl, of the choice...maybe he'd have a chance at his future. And if the public support manages to help you in some way or another, that'd only be an additional benefit. You love that girl enough to die for her, maybe that means you love her enough to fight tooth and nail to live for her as well.

The train that stops at each district pulls to a stop. The doors open, releasing the sound of tributes that are learning the consequences of attempting to cause issues for the peacekeepers.

A boy he vaguely recognizes steps out, and then a younger girl. Are you one of the tributes already risking their lives in an attempt to aggravate peacekeepers? Or maybe you're cowering at the back of the train, clinging onto the safety of a familiar space.

You prove to be neither. You emerge from the train, perfectly in tact and stable.

Coriolanus parts his lips, yet no words manage to come out. You're different in person, the white you're dressed in is objectively dirtier than it was when you were reaped and yet somehow, here in the dim, gray station it feels brighter. A stray beam of sunlight breaking through a cluster of clouds. A promise that the storm will end soon and that the angels have yet to abandon the earth.

Your dress is a simple thing, loose enough to be a hand-me-down or maybe even borrowed, the lace of the skirt falling farther down your knees than it should. That paired with the ribbon scraps tied to each side of your head make you look younger and cruelly innocent.

"Hello." The blandness of his own beginning forces a burning sort of regret to take over his chest. You attentively turn, expression kind and expecting. It only makes the embarrassment he doesn't fully understand scorch him from the inside out with more violence. He's once again struck with the desire to look away and finding himself incapable of doing so. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm your mentor."

You nod, features hardening. You've pieced it all together--his appearance, what he's saying, and where you are. He's revealed himself as part of the Capitol and now you can no longer watch him with kind, accepting eyes. The look you're giving him is almost enough to make him wish he could have presented this differently.

Coriolanus extends an arm, the carefully chosen pure white rose an olive branch. You blink, eyebrows drawing together before you slowly reach out and take the flower by its stem. Your fingertips brush against his own, the warmth of your skin is so shocking he has to remind himself not to flinch.

"A mentor?" You repeat the word like your only reason for doing so is to try out the foreign word on your tongue. "Does everyone get one or am I just lucky?" You look down at the rose you're now holding. "Or has the rumor that I'm a rebellion trick spread to the Capitol?"

The last question genuinely surprises him. It shouldn't, there had been some talk about why anyone from a poor district would ever choose to go into the games. The way you and the girl you saved reacted to each other could have been staged...but Coriolanus didn't think it was enough to warrant genuine rumors. Anyone that had looked at your eyes and seen the fear in them would have known that it was sacrifice. Is sacrifice. That girl means the world to you.

"No," he starts slowly, "No, everyone gets one and no one here has any preconceptions about you."

You raise your eyebrows, making it clear that you don't believe him. No preconceptions had been a strong way to phrase things, but the urge to assure you had taken over with no warning. You then look away, glancing around to take in your surroundings.

"Then why isn't there..." You trail off, your gaze landing firmly on him. "You're not supposed to be here."

He blinks. For the first time, it feels like you're truly looking at him. His own susceptibility to your wide eyes turns his stomach. You're the one that should feel like something up for display under his stare. "No, I'm not."

The admission forces the edge of your lips to pull upwards. "Alright," you hum, "So what does my mentor do for me besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

For a second, all you do is stare. He's surprised you. The realization brings him more relief than it should. "The girl who you volunteered for..."

You tilt your head downwards, hiding your expression as your fingers carefully toy with the exterior of the soft petals. "My cousin," the explanation is low, cautious, "But we uh--we're more like sisters."

An in that he doesn't even have to work for. "I understand that." You look up, not bothering to hide your confusion. Maybe you weren't expecting something so human to come out. Maybe human works for you. "During the war, we took care of each other...and then after our parents passed, we were left in the care of our grandmother."

The silence that follows is tight, straining against the sympathies you're not willing to extend to someone like him. Your lips part, and Coriolanus is disgusted by the part of him that's curious about what's going to come next.

You're pushed back with no warning. His attention snaps towards the peacekeeper who is shoving against your shoulder with more force than necessary.

"Excuse--" No reaction, no response as another peacekeeper grabs your arm. "Excuse me, I'm her--" You're being dragged away in order to be packed into another vehicle of transportation with the rest of them.

Coriolanus stays near, doing his best to never lose sight of you in the chaos. A tribute breaks free from the hold of the peacekeepers and launches his body forward. An ill thought out escape attempt. The distraction is all Coriolanus needs. This is his chance to go after you, to cement a connection that will guarantee cooperation.

It's not the distraction that gets him to move or even thoughts of the Plinth prize, it's the final flash of angel white fabric as its forced back into darkness. He rushes forward before he can overthink, entering the vehicle just as the doors shut.

----

i think i might make a part 2!!

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus x reader

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Hello, first I would like to say that I love your writing and it normally makes me really happy while I am at some boring classes at college, so thanks for that hahaha ❤️

Also, I saw your requests are open and since I am absolutely obsessed with your angst for bucky, I am here to request some.

My idea would be something like this: reader has been in the compound with the avengers for a while now and besides really caring for the team, she has some problems being more open with friendships and relationships in general, cause of some insecurities with her personality, but in somehow she feels really comfortable with Bucky and they are kinda of great friends?

And then she's just waking by the compound looking for him one day and she hears him speaking something bad about her? Something about how he feels like she's overwhelming him cause she just has him as a friend and no one else and it kinda makes her look for him a lot for comfort ( I actually have no idea what he could be speaking, so this is just an idea but it could be anything, really) maybe this could actually be a misunderstanding and he did not meant in that way? I would love if it had a lot of angst and a happy ending, but of course is up to you!

YES I live for miscommunication and comfort and this type of angst, this concept is everything!!

warnings: Angst, miscommunication, idiots in love/ friends to lovers, plenty of fluffff

"Hey sugar plum" You smiled, plopping beside Bucky on the couch while he scrolled through Netflix documentaries with a large bowl of m&ms in his lap. "Whatcha watching"

"Haven't decided yet, pick something Jellybean" He handed you the remote and candy bowl, throwing his arm around the back of the couch while you got settled in and flicked through the selection of tv shows.

"Of course" Bucky snorted, shaking his head with amusement as Unsolved Mysteries started to play. You grinned, comfortable nestled against his side while the rest of the team joined one by one; Sam swiped a handful of chocolate from the bowl only to have Bucky swat at his hand like a cat.

"Get your own candy pigeon pants"

"What, y/n gets some but I don't" Sam scoffed in fake offence while Bucky shrugged, throwing one at him.

"Well you're not y/n" Bucky shrugged while you felt your heart flutter. You loved everyone with your whole heart, you really did, but no one else made you feel safe the way Bucky did. Being around him felt like being constantly wrapped in a thick fluffy blanket. Ever since you had joined the team, you struggled to fully be yourself around everyone.

Not that anyone treated you differently; but being surrounded some of the strongest and most brilliant people on the planet gnawed at your insecurities. Steve was a sweetheart, Nat was incredibly skilled and drop dead gorgeous, Tony could charm his way out of just about anything. Everyone had something that made them exceptional and then there was you. You tended to be on the quieter side, fueled with self doubt over if you actually brought anything to the team.

Were you really all that interesting?

What did you really add to the group?

Did anyone even notice your presence when you were around?

Even if they did, did it make a difference?

You'd overthink your way into a quiet corner wondering why you were the way that you were. No one else could see the way you'd worry yourself into a ball of self-doubt, figuring you were just shy and they didn't want to mistakenly push any boundaries.

Then there was Bucky.

Being around Bucky was different.

Something about him was warm and welcoming. He didn't hesitate to pull you out of your hiding spaces around the compound, making sure you joined for team events and game nights. Any insecurities you had always melted away when you were around him because he made you feel special.

Made you feel wanted.

The night went by with everyone sharing their own conspiracy theories over what they think actually happened at the end of each episode while you stayed tucked by Bucky's side. Neither of you had any plans on calling it an early night, while the rest of the team eventually all went to bed as you switched to a new show.

"I'm going to grab more snacks, want anything sugar plum?" You were about to make your way to the kitchen when Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, making you stay seated.

"I'll get it, tell me what you want Jellybean" He shook his head, grabbing the throw blanket and tossing it over your legs so you'd be comfy for the rest of the night while he went to grab the snacks. You didn't have to actually say anything, Bucky knew exactly what you wanted. He came back with half the kitchen raided on a tray along with a beer, pulling you to his side, letting you snuggle against his chest.

You let out a content sigh, unwrapping a chocolate bar while Bucky snuck a bite, the warmth of his body making it difficult for you to stay awake like you'd planned. You eventually fell asleep, waking up to find yourself tucked comfortably in your bed as the sun poured into your room, your body still wrapped in the throw he had covered you with.

You felt your body warm up at the way he was so gentle with you, having carried you to your room without making you stir the slightest. There wasn't anyone else you'd feel so comfortable around.

He was your safe space.

You found yourself hopping out of bed with more energy than usual, deciding to train in the morning instead of your late night workouts, if you were lucky, maybe you'd run into Bucky after his morning run. You made your way to the kitchen, smiling when you heard his voice, along with Sam's, the both of them bickering over something irrelevant as per usual. The closer you got, the more serious their conversation sounded making you wonder if something had come up with a mission

And then you heard your name.

You stopped half way, staying as still as possible part of you wanting to run back to your room while covering your ears, the other part of you curious to know what they were saying. You wanted to move but your feet were glued to the ground, your heart hammering out of your chest.

"How about y/n?"

"Uh y/n..." You could hear the hesitation in his Bucky's as he contemplated his next words, his tone irritated. "She's whatever. It's not like that"

"Meaning?"

"Uh. I don't know, she sort of follows me around everywhere, there's not a day I don't see her but its not like I ask to see her"

You blinked, your stomach starting to churn. Did you follow him everywhere? You did see him everyday but you didn't realize you were following him.

"I mean she's only that way with you, she's definitely not that comfortable with Steve or me" You could hear Sam trying to reason with Bucky but all he did was scoff, your heart wrenching further.

"Yeah. It's overwhelming"

You wanted to run, wishing you had stayed in bed for an extra 5 minutes, your body now hot, not from how safe he made you feel but from embarrassment. Of course he was overwhelmed with your clinginess, he didn't want to have to deal with a burden like you. He had so much of his own issues to deal with and then there was you.

Guilt started to cloud your mind as you thought about all the times you spent time with Bucky, staying by his side while he reassured you or comforted you. How many of those times were actually annoying for him, how many times did he wish you would suck it up and leave him alone instead.

"She's not really friends with anyone else on the team, I'm not sure why she hangs out with me specifically that much" He sounded even more irritated than before; the rest of the conversation a melted into dull buzz, your heartbeat thudding in your skull.

Your eyes stung, hot tears flooding your lash line at his words. Your bottom lip, trembled despite how hard you were biting down on it; your forced your feet to move, slowly backing away from the kitchen until you were far enough to run to your room. You slammed the door shut, instructing FRIDAY to soundproof the walls and turn away anyone that came by before breaking down into sobs.

All of your insecurities were dialed to 100 along with more being added to the list.

How did you not see how annoying you were being. You felt awful, embarrassed, confused.

Why didn't he say anything?

Of course he wouldn't, he probably felt pity for you. A grown adult woman who struggled to open up and still struggled with her personality. An absolute joke.

You let the day go by, too ashamed to face anyone, let alone Bucky. If he felt irritated, there was no doubt the rest of the team knew exactly how annoying he found you. You couldn't bring yourself to see any of them, deciding to skip both lunch and dinner instead while burying under the covers.

****

Bucky frowned when he didn't see you the whole day, his worries growing more when he didn't see you come by for dinner either.

"Where's y/n?"

"I checked on her during lunch but FRIDAY said she'd requested to be alone" Nat looked at Bucky, confused over how he, of all people, didn't know where you were.

"Aren't you both joined at the hip, how do you not know Barnes" Tony wiggled his eyebrow while Bucky rolled his eyes, too worried about you to retort to Tony's comment.

"I saw her once this morning in the training room but not after that. She seemed fine then" Steve had seen you that morning, happy to see you brighter when he had spoken to you, not missing your shy smile when he'd mentioned Bucky's name. "No one else saw her all day?"

Bucky was immediately out of his seat, making his way over to your room to see you, only to have FRIDAY respond instead.

"Ms. Y/l/n has asked that no one disturb her until further notice"

"For fucks sake" He mumbled, knocking at your door one more time.

"I'm sorry Sergeant Barnes, Ms. y/l/n has asked to be left alone"

Bucky was taken aback when he was tuned away; in the few times you had locked your door from everyone else he'd always been exempt from that list. Why didn't you want to see him either? He reluctantly made his way back, his mind now racing over what could have possibly happened from the night before to now.

****

You had managed to avoid Bucky the next few days, purposefully staying away from the areas you knew he'd be around and staying in your room for most of the day. Whenever he tried to speak to you, you'd find a way to escape the conversation, his words reeling in your mind, reminding you he found you annoying. Overwhelming. Clingy.

You couldn't understand why he was going out of his way to try and talk to you when you were trying so hard to stay away, your heart in pain not being able to spend time with the person you felt the safest with. Your mind made it impossible to get a wink of sleep; you made your way down to the kitchen for a late night snack instead. You grabbed a bowl of popcorn, turning the TV on to your favorite comfort shows needing a temporary distraction.

"Jellybean?"

Bucky made his way through the living room after a late night workout, his heart jumping when his eyes landed on you. He was by your side in an instant, not noticing the way you froze when he sat beside you.

"Hi James"

Bucky blinked, his name sounding foreign on your tongue.

He didn't like it.

Not one bit.

Since when was he James.

"Uh, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine" You forced a smile, scooting over so you weren't sitting too close to him, your mind racing trying to find a way out of the conversation. Bucky could sense your discomfort but he had no idea why, his heart beating harder against his chest when he noticed your eyes shift, as if you were looking for a way to escape.

"Are-are you sure?"

"Yup!"

"Doll" He noticed the way your eyes continued to flick around the room, refusing to meet his. "Somethings bothering you"

"What makes you say that"

"I-you called me by my name-you never do that"

"What else should I call you" You avoided his gaze, fidgeting with a lose string on a cushion while Bucky felt his stomach drop.

Were you upset with him?

"You always call me sugar plum. Only you do" He shrugged sadly, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. "You don't call me James"

"Oh" Was all you could muster, feeling your throat close up, hot tears threatening to spill from your lash line. You tried to turn away from him only to have him gently cup your cheek, tilting your chin to face him. His heart broke seeing your glassy eyes while you chewed your lip to keep from crying.

"Please tell me what's wrong, did I do something? Did I say anything?"

"No" You whispered, swallowing thickly, pulling away from him only to have him take your hands in his to keep you from running away.

"C'mon y/n, please?"

"I-I don't mean to follow you around and be so clingy. I'm just trying to give you some space Bucky" You tried to keep your voice steady, hanging your head so he wouldn't see the tears run down your cheeks. Bucky let go of your hands to cup your cheeks again, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

"Jellybean, what are you-

"I heard you talking to Sam" You spat, now annoyed that he was here trying to talk to you when he was the one who felt you followed him around. "I heard you tell him I'm always around you. That you don't even ask to see me but I'm there. I didn't mean to be so overbearing. I felt safe with you so I was closest to you, I didn't realize you felt like I was following you".

"Sweetheart, it's not overwhelming for the reasons you think"

"Then what else could it be Bucky? You could have told me you needed some space, I would've understood. I wouldn't have spend so much time hanging out with you-

"No! I like when you're around me Jellybean" Bucky almost sounded offended you'd suggest such a thing while you shook your head, sniffling.

"You don't have to lie to me-

"Y/n, no. I promise doll, this is just a misunderstanding, that's not that I meant when I was talking to Sam"

"Then what did you mean?" You whispered, confused over what else he could have possibly meant. Bucky felt butterflies in his chest, not fully thinking this through. Should he tell you what the conversation was about? Could it be worse than you thinking he didn't even like you when the truth was the complete opposite?

"I don't want to ruin our friendship if I tell you" Bucky suddenly looked scared, his eyes wide like a lost puppy, vulnerable and afraid. He sucked in a breath before speaking, inching a little closer to you. "Sam was asking about if I'm seeing anyone. He thinks I need to put myself out there"

Oh.

A sudden pang of jealousy hit your chest, the flinch in your face not missed by Bucky.

"He was suggesting..." He bit his lip, chewing it nervously before continuing. "He asked if there was anything between us. He thought maybe you liked me because we're always together" Bucky continued to look at you like a kicked puppy, his own emotions now all over the place. "I didn't think you did. At least not in that way but he kept saying there was something between us"

"It didn't sound like you liked me very much" You shrugged while Bucky frantically shook his head, mentally scolding himself. "I thought you found me too clingy"

"Never. You're never too clingy. M'so so sorry doll, I didn't mean for it to come out that way, you're the only person who I can spend the whole day with, I'm not comfortable around others like I am with you. I love when you come around looking for me. I guess a part of me was upset because Sam wasn't the first to ask me why we weren't together and ask if we were more than friends. I didn't think you'd like me and it's overwhelming for me because I feel so much and...well"

"and?" Bucky blushed, struggling to get the next words out while you anxiously waited for him to continue.

"and I really like you" He whispered, squeezing your hand in his while you shifted closer, letting him pull you onto his lap. His arms circled around your waist, holding you close to him both your hearts racing, his nose bumping against yours.

"You like me?" You felt your cheeks heat up when he nodded, his blue eyes shyly peeking up at you through his lashes.

"I like you jellybean. A lot"

"Even more than m&m's?" You felt him hug you together, your lips brushing against his.

"More than m&m's" He closed the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly as you gently carded your fingers through his hair. He kissed you until you both needed air, a dopey smile on his face while you snuggled into his chest.

"Does that mean I'm your sugar plum again?" He whispered hopefully making you giggle, kissing him deeply again.

"Always, my sugar plum"

"My jellybean"

****

"Fucking finally" Tony mumbled, his hair ruffled, stifling a yawn as he walked through the living room, grinning at you and Bucky sleeping on the couch.

"I told him" Steve rolled his eyes, snapping a picture of you both cuddled on the couch while Sam snorted, nodding in approval. "Took them long enough"

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eepyghost · 3 months

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do you think jay ferin ever wondered if her father mourned her the same way he mourned ava?

she said it herself in ep100. you were never there after ava died. throughout my mourning, you were the only one who wasn't there. jayson ferin lost his eldest daughter, his shining star, and all that was left in her place was, in his mind, a shadow. to jayson, jay ferin was a secondary character. a shell of what ava could've been, had she been given another chance at life. we never really get any details, but we know that something died in jayson's heart when ava passed.

so does jay think about it? does she wonder, late at night, if he ever gave her that same emotion? that same grief?

after leaving him behind at the BLOCK. after yelling in his face, bloodied and crying, that he was one of the strongest men she knew, but a fucking pathetic father. after severing him from her soul like a rotting limb. after she heard him call after her - when i catch you, you will no longer be a daughter to me. just another pirate. do you think she wondered if their separation killed him just as much?

maybe the concept brought her comfort. he'd brought her through so much pain that the idea of putting him in a small semblance of it was relieving.

but in the back of her mind, there's reality. a reality where jayson ferin probably never speaks of her. where he now considers himself childless. when others ask, he speaks so highly of his late daughter, ava ferin, how she had the world at her hands, how she would've gone so far if she lived longer.

because to jayson ferin, jay is the daughter he lost, but never grieved.

#jay ferin #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #just roll with it riptide #jrwi fanart #jrwi podcast

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 months

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I've been thinking about this for a while. May I request Kerian battling a "snow on Mt. Silver" Reader? Reader was the strongest trainer at Blueberry academy and champion of the BB league until they willingly handed off the title to Drayton and climbed to the highest point in the polar biome to wait for a strong challenger. Kerian, upon becoming champion, gets wind of them and decides to battle them. Things go bad quickly as reader is a ghost/corpse. Kerian does get rescued but is traumatized.

Oh this is a GOOD concept,,,give him that near-death trauma waaaaay before he even learns about terapagos

Also ik the weather conditions in the terarium are all simulated, but let's just say it malfunctioned and resulted in an actual blizzard at the very peak of the polar biome that killed reader + their Pokémon off (yet no one knows this)

......

"Have you heard from [y/n] lately, Drayton?"

"Nope. Last time I checked, they're still chilling at the Polar Biome peak, waiting for a "worthy challenger"."

"Was that pun intended?"

"...maybe, haha. But y'know, I kinda miss seeing their face around campus. I mean..they were our club's first champion, and to this day I still don't know why they handed the title over to me and bailed on-"

"Hold on, there was a champion before you and...you didn't even fight them for the title? No wonder I was able to beat you so easily."

"Oh great, just the person I hoped to see." With a dry chuckle, Drayton turned his head only slightly upon seeing Kieran approaching the clubroom's table with a deep scowl, eyes bleak.

Of course, the new champion of BB Academy believed he had every right to barge into the Elite Four's conversations--given he was having a bit of a "power trip" ever since gaining the title yesterday.

But the dragon trainer elected to ignore him, instead turning back to the others. "Anyways..I'm sure [y/n]'s already moved onto better things. No way could they still be up there after all that weird stuff happened with the weather."

"You mean..the time there was an actual blizzard in the terarium??" Lacey gasped, before shaking her head and making an "x" pose. "Bzzzt. Nope. Impossible. They sent a search and rescue team in case anyone in the outdoor classroom got stranded up there. And they didn't find a soul!"

"Yeah!" Crispin nodded in agreement. "I get they were the strongest trainer in this entire school, but why would they risk-?"

"I'm sorry, they're the strongest? Why am I only hearing about this [y/n] now?"

With a small yelp, he turned to the purple-haired boy. "Wah!! I-I totally forgot you were here, sorry.." He mumbled, slightly cowering under his harsh gaze. "Obviously you're the strongest! [Y/n]'s not important..d-don't worry about them. They're history-"

"But you all seem pretty convinced they're still here." Kieran's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the group. "And you just told me where I might find them." He clenched his fists, already shaking with anticipation.

"Easy there, champ.." Drayton huffed in annoyance. "It's only a rumor that they're still hanging around. They weren't much of a talker, so we have no clue where they are. Could be in another region for all we know."

"..........."

"Don't tell me....you're thinking about charging up that mountain all by yourself to see if they're there, are you? That's suicide."

"I have to agree with Drayton." Amarys nodded. "The staff is still trying to determine the cause of the anomalous weather patterns. We aren't banned from venturing up there, but until they can find a solution, it's ill-advised."

"Exactly!" Lacey joined in. "I heard one of the rescue team members had to get treated for frostbite. And it wasn't from some ice-type Pokémon, but the blizzard itself. This is serious, Kieran!"

"....I'll be fine. Your scare tactics won't work on me."

"Huh?! But we're not-"

"Enough. I'm gonna go find them myself, seeing as you're all too cowardly to do so." The champion sneered. "If a worthy challenger is what they're after, then I'll give them one. I'll let them know there's a new champion in town..and that he's the strongest trainer in this academy. Not them."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, mumbling under his breath things that made the four feel uneasy.

"How pathetic. The Elite Four..scared of a little snow and ice? Whatever. I'll show them. I'll show [y/n]. I'll show them ALL..."

After the doors slammed shut behind him, they felt the tension still lingering in the air--as did every other club member who was hanging out on the sofas and by the BP computer.

"Man." Drayton broke the silence, sitting up to stretch his arms. "That kid catches wind of some random stranger who's just a little stronger than him, and boom. He's obsessed. Hope he doesn't get himself killed up there."

"Should one of us go after him?" Lacey muttered in concern, her gaze not leaving the doors.

"I-I think that would make him angrier.." Crispin shook his head. "He's got an Incineroar, so maybe it'll keep him toasty."

"That is true. He could also either confirm or deny [y/n]'s presence atop that mountain." Amarys spoke up. "I only hope he properly prepares himself for the long journey..and that no other weather anomalies arise.."

..........

"They weren't kidding..i-it's freezing...but we're doing this, Incineroar."

"Cinn.." Huffing, the Heel Pokémon remained beside its trainer as the two made their ascension towards the summit. They couldn't see any rest spots nor healing centers below them due to the snowfall being so heavy.

Even the teraglobe was barely visible.

Yet Kieran was persistent as ever in his goal, keeping his jacket zipped up and Incineroar close to him. He didn't care about the fact his hands were already growing numb, nor the cold biting at his legs leaving them weak.

He was the new champion. He had to let everyone in this school know and defeat whoever could threaten the position he worked so hard to achieve.

If not [Florian/Juliana]..then it was you.

You're someone he's never even met, but knowing you were the very first BB League champion and had a big-enough ego to come up here and wait for a strong challenger...was something he couldn't turn a blind eye to.

No.

Not if he wanted to be the best in this entire school and eliminate any competition.

Absolutely nothing was gonna stop him.

Not even the fact that his Incineroar's flames were struggling to stay alive, gradually exhausting the feline as it struggled to keep up. It began having chills itself, although it knew better than to disobey its trainer when he demanded to keep the fire going.

Surely it can tough it out for him, right?

After what seemed like an eternity, Kieran finally reached the top of the mountain and saw you: the lone figure waiting for them both. Much of the snowfall had already cleared up allowing him to see you in a cap that concealed your eyes and a BB Academy uniform.

You were looking at something up in the sky, until you heard the sounds of shuffling and turned around, looking down with surprise at the challenger.

This kid...came up all this way to see you? Impressive.

His Incineroar looked a little worse for wear, the flames around its belt dying out, yet it stuck close to its trainer's side as he stared at you with a cold hard gaze.

"Are you [y/n], former BB League Champion?" He questioned.

"........."

"Not much of a talker, huh? Guess they were right. I'm Kieran, or better yet..Champion Kieran."

Although you barely gave a response aside from a slight tilt of your head, he just smirked. "Yeah, you heard me. I'm the new champion and president of the League Club, not that dumb dragon tamer. Because unlike him, I worked hard to earn this title. I don't wait around for things to be handed to me on a silver platter."

".........."

"You think being champion is a joke? Something you can just pawn off to somebody when you get bored of it?"

"........."

"I thought so. That means you never deserved the title to begin with.." He scoffed, irritated by your silence. "Anyway, they said you were the strongest, but I'm here to change that!" Pointing up at you, he shouted over the wind. "You wanted a worthy opponent..well HERE I AM!!! Incineroar, Porygon-Z...show them the power of a true BB League Champion!!"

He took out his Virutal Pokémon's pokeball, ready to send it into battle.

But it didn't come out after he tossed it to the ground.

"...huh?" Confused, Kieran picked up the pokeball, wondering why it wasn't opening. Then he noticed frost coating the button, practically icing it over entirely. "No, no, no.....what is this?!"

For some reason it was jammed, and he discovered that all the other pokeballs in his bag were like that, too, rendering them inaccessible.

But how?

It shouldn't be possible for all of them to freeze simultaneously...their insulation should be top-tier.

Brushing off his worries, he glared at you. "Whatever. I can win a single-battle, too! I've developed strategies for this. Incineroar, it's all up to you now"

Nodding, the Heel Pokémon cracked its knuckles and stepped forward. But as it looked at you, it began shivering all of the sudden, feeling a drastic drop in temperature as the flames on its belt struggled still.

It wasn't just the weather giving it chills..but you.

Something about you just seemed...off, but it couldn't exactly tell its trainer what that was. Nor would he probably care.

Whether it liked it or not, it had to win this battle.

Wordlessly, you stepped down so you could fight on equal ground and took out a single pokeball. It was covered in frost, with much of the red paint faded, and it looked awfully damaged--especially the button.

Yet somehow it was functional as you sent out your first Pokémon.

And the sight of it was so grisly, Kieran felt genuinely nauseated, unable to do anything except stare in shock.

"Wh...What the..."

It appeared as a sickly frostbit creature, with its colors dull and empty sockets in place of its eyes. Not to mention the heavy wounds littering its body, which seemed fresh. It's like you ran out of healing items and never bothered to look for any more.

And its cry was pained.

Considering how much Kieran himself loved and treasured Pokémon, he was gravely concerned and had second thoughts about fighting one in such a horrible state...

But that little voice in his head told him that refusing to fight your team would make him look weak. You'd probably think he was weak for backing down.

And he refused to do that.

Why was he suddenly so afraid? You were only trying to scare him, just like everybody else...and he was fed up with that.

He came this far. He had to finish this.

"You...think your Pokémon can battle in that condition? Looks like they can barely stand." His eyebrows furrowed. "No matter. Once I beat you, I'll take them off your ha-"

"Struggle."

A hoarse whisper escaped your lips, stunning him as he realized you could actually speak. But then your Pokémon suddenly threw itself at Incineroar, attacking and taking a good deal of recoil damage as it fainted soon afterwards.

Or rather...

It simply dropped to the ground and ceased all motions, with you making no move to recall them. Instead you just sent out your next party member.

Kieran tried not to think about why they did that, and just scoffed at your strategy. "Really? This is what the "strongest" trainer is capable of? I expected better..I'll beat you in no time at all."

Yet you didn't seem fazed by anything he said, as you commanded your Pokémon to use Struggle, too.....and every other one after that did the same thing.

What frustrated him the most was how they all managed to outspeed Incineroar, forcing it to endure every hit without getting a chance to retaliate. It felt so unfair, and he couldn't do anything except sit and watch, feeling his blood boiling more with each passing second.

He didn't know why you exhausted all of your team's moves, why you wouldn't give him a chance to strike back....or why you're even up here at all and allowed them to get this bad.

But he knew one thing.

He wanted to get off this mountain soon.

The snowfall was growing heavier again, the howling wind picking up as the temperature kept dropping.

"Stop! Just stop for a second!!" He snapped as you readied your final pokeball. All you did was pause and stare at him. "You haven't given me a chance to attack yet! And I'm locked out my pokeballs...this isn't fair! You're cheating!!"

"..it's almost over."

He tensed, wondering why you spoke those words so ominously. But he took that as an insult and scowled. "For me? No...it's almost over for you. You're down to your last Pokémon..and I still have all of mine. I'm putting an end to this pathetic "struggle strategy" of yours right now."

".........."

"What a joke this was. Everyone says you were the strongest trainer..but you're just another obstacle in my way."

Hearing that saddened you a little, almost making you regret what you're about to subject this hapless champion to next...but you will end this one way or another.

You couldn't tolerate his arrogance any longer.

Your final Pokémon's appearance completely wiped the smug look on Kieran's face, as his eyes widened upon seeing a Pikachu in the most horrific condition--one that didn't look anything like the others on your team.

Its fur was totally white with a layer of frost coating it; and it was missing a leg, ear, and part of its tail...as though something had torn and chewed at various sections of its body. And its wounds exposed its muscle and bones, yet somehow it was still able to stand on its own.

But the most terrifying thing was its lack of a cutesy smile typical to its species. Instead there was this creepy grin stretching from ear-to-nonexistent-ear. And it just stared at him with those pitch black eyes, giggling.

His hands shook with genuine fear, before he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Yet both of you were still there when he looked, ready for battle.

Suddenly he didn't feel so high and mighty right now. His heart pounded and his throat felt dry, eyes stinging from the cold.

He felt as though he wasn't supposed to be here.

He shouldn't be here.

He didn't want to do this anymore.

He wanted to go home.

It was so cold...

But he needed to finish this.

"I-Incineroar, use-"

"Pain Split."

'Wait...Pikachu can learn that?!' His eyes widened in shock, but at the same time he was relieved you finally did something new-

Only for your Pikachu to screech and attack his Pokémon with that move, biting into its arm and causing the latter to roar in agony. He could only watch, horrified as blood splattered all across the snow.

By the time he managed to recall Incineroar, it had already fainted from the attack.

However your Pikachu did, too, laying among the other bodies of your Pokémon...who he now realized were in fact deceased. He could barely see them since the snow covered most of them.

But the morbid images would never leave his head.

He still didn't understand.

What have you become?

What are you?

"It's over."

Looking up, Kieran screamed upon seeing your uniform now covered in blood, the frostbite having eaten away at most of your flesh. You looked like some zombie, with exposed bones and hollowed eyes much like your Pokémon--gazing at him with that same sadness they held.

Now it finally hit him.

All this time, he wasn't battling some BB League ex-champion. He was battling the victim of that weather malfunction the four were talking about.

The one who never made it down this mountain alive.

You were already dead...and wanted him to suffer the same fate as you.

He blinked, and you were suddenly in front of him, grabbing the front of his jacket with two hands and staring at him. And all he could do was stare back in terror, unable to look away.

"Destiny B-"

"NO!! NO!! STOP!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!" Screaming as loud as he could, he lost all composure as he tried pushing you off of him, hitting your jaw and dislocating the bone.

You dropped him to the ground, and he sobbed, wrapping his arms over his head as he begged you to leave him be.

"L-Let me go home, please pleasepleaseplease-"

"Kieran?!!!"

With a sharp gasp, he looked up to hear the voice of Lacey, before seeing her, Carmine, and the other Elite Four members rushing towards him. They were all bundled-up, with Crispin's Magmortar and Heat Rotom keeping them warm.

"It's [y/n]!!" He shouted, pointing to where you stood. "Th-They..they're right there!!"

The group stopped, appearing confused as they looked all around, seeing nothing but snow.

"Wh-Why are you all standing around?!"

"Kieran..there's no one here except us." Crispin muttered.

".....huh?" Blinking, he looked back and realized you have disappeared entirely, not leaving behind a single trace of your presence. There weren't any blood or footprints in the snow, nor any frozen bodies of Pokémon lying in it.

It's like he was battling a hallucination all along.

But it felt so real..

"But I....I-I..."

"Only you would be insane enough to risk your life coming up here," Carmine huffed, kneeling down. But as soon as she saw the true terror in her little brother's eyes, her heart sank..wondering what he witnessed. "Kiki..?"

"...i-it was them...[y/n]..." He mumbled shakily, his arm still stuck in a pointing position. Tears streaked down his face, the cold wind making his cheeks sting like hell. "Th-They were right here..and...and they...they tried to-"

"Listen, I get you really wanted to meet them and battle them...but they're not here. They're long gone. Now c'mon. We need to get you off this stupid mountain." Picking him up was no problem for Carmine, given how he was light as a feather. He just clung to her, allowing himself to be carried on her back.

The four were astonished that he actually made the journey up here, with Drayton wondering if he was really that desperate to battle you that he came up here, realized you weren't around, and just...made up a scenario in which he wins anyways.

Instead, the poor kid seemed traumatized by whatever he saw...or believed he saw.

After making it safely down the mountain and getting treated--alongside his Incineroar--Kieran's detailed account of what happened led to another rescue team heading up the summit, just in case they may have missed something.

They had fire types and ground type tirelessly shoveling through the snow, digging in the exact spot where he battled you, but there were no signs of you anywhere.

Even so..he refused to believe it, and still had reoccurring nightmares of that encounter and how it might've ended if the others didn't show up in time.

Soon enough he got back on-track to training his Pokémon and becoming stronger everyday, but other trainers noticed how carefully he treaded throughout the Polar Biome..

And how he avoided going anywhere near the tallest mountain in that zone.

For he believed you were still up there, waiting for him.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #indigo disk x reader #pokepasta x reader #pokemon kieran #angst/horror #snow on mt silver

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adarkrainbow · 8 months

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Why was Hansel the meal of the witch?

This is a question I was aked recently, and I thought it would make a good subject for a post. "Why did the witch only try to fatten up and eat Hansel? Why didn't she imprison and fattened up Gretel too? Why did she choose to make Gretel her slave instead of Hansel?"

Which is actually a fascinating question. Now, I do not promise that there is some grand truth or secret meaning behind this. It is just a little detail and some technical workings of fairytales. But it is a point that many authors and rewriters have taken an interest upon, and that if a true well of reinterpretations.

So let's go... Why was Hansel the meal, and Gretel the slave?

If we go by the "canon" of the text (of course "canonical" fairytales do not exist, this is just an expression) - if we go by the Brothers Grimm's text, we... well we do not know. It is not specified anywhere why the witch decides to lock up and fatten up Hansel out of the siblings, and to not do the same thing for Gretel. There is no reason explicitely spelled out or given. Maybe she simply prefers the meat of boys over the one of girls? This absence of justification, and the apparent "randomness" of the choice opens a door for authors who would like to change things: for example in "A Tale Dark and Grimm" (the book, not the Netflix series), it is both Hansel and Gretel that are fattened up by the witch, and she only picks Hansel as the first one to be roasted. The Looney Tunes Hansel and Gretel also were both in the cooking pot of the witch Hazel...

The text only leaves implications for the reader. For example, the need for the witch to have a slave/assistant to help her with the chores is implied by the facts that she is 1) elderly 2) has a very bad sight and 3) walks with crutches (a very important point). So it is understandable she would require a slave to help her - but then why pick Gretel, and not Hansel? Again, the text does not answer. Many people like to portray Hansel as the oldest child of the duo, and Gretel as a younger sister - this is because Hansel seems to be the strongest, bravest and most intelligent one, as well as with how his name always comes first in the text, Gretel being after him. Maybe the witch chose to eat him first because he was precisely older, and thus there was a more developed body to eat? Even if the siblings are of the same age, we can always imagine the very old and present male/female dichotomy that claims that men's body are naturaly stronger, larger and meatier than women's, who have graceful, slender, lighter bodies. Maybe such a concept is at work, putting forward a mindset where a cannibal witch will always go for boys first as a main course, and girls next as an appetizer...

One possible reading of the story is that the witch only had enough place to lock up ONE child and thus had to make a choice. Maybe there wasn't enough room for two kids in her prison for future meals? This interpretation is supported by the ORIGINAL text of the Grimm's fairytale. In the first edition of the brothers Grimm's fairytales (provided by Jack Zipes), there is an explicit mention of the place Hansel is locked in: it isn't some sort of stable or cage as it would later be described, oh no! It is a chicken coop so small Hansel can BARELY MOVE. It is a really tiny prison, in which he barely fits. Of course, on a practical side, it can help with the whole fattening process since having a child eat rich meals without ever moving is certain to make him plump in no time (just look at these horrible industrial farms and how they lock up animals in tiny cages) ; but this detail actually explained why the witch only placed her efforts on one child, and not two: she obviously had only enough to place to lock up one kid, and had to deal with the other in a different way.

But even if we admit all those implications - that the elderly, handicaped witch needed a help, that she had only enough room to lock up one child, that maybe Hansel as an older boy makes a better meal than Gretel - there are still some strange and bizarre logical holes. For example, the witch beats up and starves and exhausts Gretel. This is the complete opposite of what she does to Hansel, who is pampered and fattened up - does this imply the witch maybe does NOT want to eat Gretel? Or does she really have only enough resources to fatten up one child, and can only afford making Gretel more edible once she is done with Hansel?

Again, mysteries upon mysteries. Fairytales are not created to work on practical details or actual psychological processes - they are stories relying on powerful visuals and ancient motifs and a dream-logic-structure. When we are told that the witch locks up Hansel to fatten him up and eat him, and that Gretel is becoming an abused slave, we just accept it, because it works on a set of powerful visuals, such as the malnurished slave sister cooking and feeding her imprisoned and soon-to-be-killed brother. The idea of the sister being reduced to a tool in the process of killing her own brother is a very powerful one, never explicitly stated, but still present and sometimes used by adaptations. There was this German Hansel and Gretel movie released in 2005 that explicitly played on this: the children were never told by the witch her intentions when she locked up Hansel, and for the first week or so of Gretel being a slave and Hansel fattened up, they were left in the dark concerning the real intentions of their mysterious jailers. This was a stark contrast with many Americanized adaptations that have the witch gloating and explaining her cannibalistic desires to her victims, and which opened the door for some interesting plot points - in this movie's case, Gretel being quite jealous and envious of Hansel's new life of feasting and being kindly treated by the witch when she got all the insults and chores. Of course, when they discover the truth, their mutual feelings reverse as Hansel realizes his seemingly "easier" fate is actually the worst of the two.

Still, the text is left ambiguous and open-ended enough for us to imagine TONS of things. There could be a rewrite of the tale where the witch exclusively eats little boys, and hates little girls. One nterpretation of dark poetry of the tale can be found in Znescope's Gretel mini-series. Despite this mini-series having BIG flaws (the choice of the witch's true identity was... quite bad to be honest), it does have a very interestng and morbid answer to the "Why was Hansel the only one fattened up?" question. It chooses to depict this difference of treatment as a sick and cruel game the witch plays with her preys: Hansel and Gretel are both her prisoners, but she fattens up Hansel while she starves Gretel, to make a contrast between the two, simply out of a perverse amusement. There is one particularly striking image of the two children locked in two cages arranged like a weighing scale, with Hansel's cage going lower as he grows fatter and Gretel's going up as she becomes skeletal... It is a nice visual contrast that has been reused by various artists.

Now, I spoke mainly here of the content of the story and of the text itself. However, as I stated before, we must look beyond the story itself to understand why Hansel was to be the meal, and not Gretel. Or rather we need to look at the fairy tale's structure, on a meta-level.

As I said before, the fairy tale works here on a system of duality. Hansel and Gretel are meant to be a yin and a yang, complementary reflections. The boy and the girl, the brave and the coward, the cunning older brother and the crying little sister. The idea that their fates are "split" into the house of the witch not only furthers the anguish of the characters, who at this point were always together but now find themselves separated, unable to face together the same trials, but also keeps on playing on these visuals and motifs. As I said, there is something that many artists read in the tale, in the opposition between a malnourished Gretel and a feasting Hansel. This is part of the same duality of food and famine present all throughout the tale, such as the woodcutter's famished and poor household, opposed to the witch's house made of sweets and with chests full of pearls. The siblings represent two forms of abuse and evilness enacted by the witch, but in complementary forms: with Gretel the witch becomes a domestic abuser and an enslaver, with Hansel she becomes a jailer and an ogress.

One can also read in this an extension of the typical sexist duality between men and women in these old centuries: the fates the witch forces upon the two children can be caricatures of what each gender is supposed to "do" in such a society. Gretel, like women, is expected to do household chores and to cook for her "man" - here it is caricatured into her becoming a slave, and only helping fattening up her brother like some cattle. In return, Hansel, like a man, is supposed to be well-treated and well-fed, but here the caring wife/mother figure is a monstrous hag who only makes him feast so she could eat him later. In fact, it is quite interesting to see how both siblings are dehumanized and reduced to the status of animals - from Hansel being fattened up in the stables like some pig or chicken, to Gretel being fed leftovers like a dog.

All of that being said, there is another much needed argument that must be made: the answer fo thte question can be easily found in the story's structure. This is the most obvious solving of the problem when you consider it all: the story of Hansel and Gretel relies on the idea that the two children must save each other in turn. There is a balance in the tale, which bears the name of the two protagonists as heroes, but one before the other. During the first part of the tale, it is Hansel who takes the lead and the decisions. He is the cunning hero who tricks his parents, saves his sister from the woods, returns home thanks to his plan. Gretel is only seen being scared, and crying, and not doing anything except follow her brother around. In the second part of the tale, within the witch's house, it is Gretel who becomes the hero. Her brother is "out of the race", locked up away and unable to do anything, and it is Gretel who this time has to trick the deadly parental figure, come up with a clever ruse, and ultimately save her brother from death. This creates a perfect balance between the two characters: Hansel starts out as the hero protecting his useless sister, and then it is Gretel who vanquishes her uselessness to become the hero saving her own, impotent brother. The siblings need each other to survive, and thus save each other in turn. This is how the story works. And this is why Hansel must be the locked-up, fattened-up victim, so that his sister can save him. Else it would have been the story of "Hansel", and not "Hansel and Gretel".

All of that being said, a last point must be made about a final theory. A theory and reading of the tale that has been very prevalent and prominent in recent adaptations of the story.

The recent "Gretel and Hansel" horror movie did it. Before the (X horror movie) also did it. Neil Gaiman's Hansel and Gretel also used this idea. The comics Fables toyed with it in a side-way. And this idea is simple: the witch did not want to eat Gretel, but rather wanted to make her a witch like herself. Gretel wasn't the witch's slave, but unwilling apprentice.

This idea is born of course from a reconsideration of what a "witch" is, and the gender questions attached with the figure of the witch. In the original story, the witch is not a witch in the modern sense of the term, in fact she is a monster that is very clearly an ogress by another name. There is no question of learning how to be a witch, or making deal with dark powers, or anything like that. But when you read the tale with the modern sense of "witch", as a symbol of dark and hostile feminity, as a woman of power, who works against the domination of men, or the tyranny of patriarchy - when you consider all the gender questions surrounding real-life witches and the witch hunts, you see the witch's actions under a different eye. Her not wanting to eat Gretel at first, and making her do her chores, and forcing her to live with her, might hint at the fact she still considers her more "human" or more valuable than her brother, who is nothing but food, a mere cattle. Several of the modern reinventions of the tale, such as those stated above, decide to add the twist that the witch actually wants to shape or make the little girl into her image: from a slave doing the witch's chores, she becomes the witch apprentice, who is by her side in everything she does. Some of those readngs remove the elements of abuse towards Gretel, while others do not forget them. Neil Gaiman's take on the story is especially fascinating as the witch is explicitely described as oscillating between periods of sweetness and kidndness, promising Gretel all of her secrets and great powers, and periods of pure hatred and violence where she just insults and beats up the girl - all of it highlighting either the witch's madness, or a form of senility due to her old age.

But this theme of "Gretel as a future witch" or "Gretel as the witch's apprentice" ties in with another subtext well-hidden in the original text, but that many like to weave upon: Gretel as the "daughter" of the witch. In many of those rewrites and reinterpretations, the witch doesn't just treat Gretel as an apprentice, but as an heir or a replacement daughter. This is no surprise since it is very clear that in the original tale, the witch is the dark side of the mother figure, and an evil doppelganger of the wicked stepmother/mother of the siblings. As such, it makes sense for her to impose an abusive and unconsented motherhood upon Gretel - doesn't her forcing the girl to do all the chores not reminiscent of how famous fairytales stepmothers treat heroines like Cinderella? Such a perverse motherhood was already explicit and obvious in her treatment of Hansel: like a mother she nourishes and feeds Hansel (in fact she succeeds where the wicked stepmother failed), but this is all to devour him, in a ritual of "un-birth", she becomes a death-givers who doesn't expel a child out of her womb, but has it return to her stomach. [This is a very common and usual motif among ogres of fairytales, who are all caricatures of parenthood].

More generally, to have the witch act in such a way actually makes the fairytale more "feminist" somehow, but in a quite perverse way. Because in such a reading, we have a women-dominated world. The true active and powerful characters of the story are beings such as the wicked stepmother and the witch, who command, control and influence the other characters - especially the male ones. The father is a weak puppet who can't stand up to his wife, Hansel is reduced to a fat pig in a cage. Hansel did try to escape the tyranny of the wicked woman, but all he could do was push back his doom, and his plans ultimately failed. Gretel, as a woman herself, is given a special treatment - and in the "apprentice/daughter" interpretation, is "absorbed" by this world of wicked, dominating women. But she actually breaks from it, and kills the one that would have "turned" her - and it is telling and interesting that the only one who can have a true an full success, a definitive victory in this tale is Gretel. Hansel's plans work and save them, but only for a brief time, and his last plan fails dramaticaly, before he gets locked up and "out of the story". Gretel meanwhile, when she gets the courage and intelligence to act, proves herself much more efficient and definitive than her brother, as she puts a true end to the threat other them by killing the witch (and by extension killing the wicked stepmother/mother). This is something Hansel couldn't do - all he could was trck the wicked woman, and nullify her plans, but he could not remove the threat of the death and the hunger.

Anyway, as you can see, despite being a quite superficial and silly question, this fact (or rather absence of facts) opens up a whole jar of various interpretations, readings and themes, and proves the hidden complexity of these apparently "simple" stories.

#hansel and gretel #hansel #gretel #witch #fairytale analysis #the gingerbread house witch #grimm fairytales #german fairytales #hansel and gretel adaptations

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necroromantics · 8 months

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🪓 — “Ticci” Toby Rogers

the boy with mudded sneakers and peach juice on his lips

- a tragic boy. loss runs deep in his bones, rotting him from the inside out. his young muddy eyes have seen so much they resemble ones of a veteran returning home from war. atrocities coat his arms, stained red.

- he’s brunette, his like mother, he also has her heart. he has his fathers nose though, and his temper. the violence sparks from his tongue, while his heartstrings tug. nobody knows if he’s weak, or the strongest boy they’ve ever met.

- feral. rabid. like a bad dog who hasn’t been fed from a caring hand in years. he has been deprived for so long he has only learnt to take it by force. in a dog eat dog world, he will bare his teeth and go for the throat. its how he grew up, its all he knows.

- in another world, he could’ve been kind. maybe he could’ve even been a good person. but not here, goodness is not found in the ground beneath his feet or the smokey air he breaths. fire fills his lungs and pours from his mouth. the boy will destroy everything he touches. people around him know better than to get too close, for they know he bites.

- and when he bites, he bites hard. many have tried to muzzle him, sedate the rage that he holds clenched between his teeth like a medal of dishonour. he will scream, kick, fight. he will hurt others without shame or remorse. and when he brings you to your knees, you will look up to see a twisted smile twitching on his face. you know he likes the power.

- so you can say he’s a monster, a horrible person. he is a killer after all, the worst of the worst. you cannot teach an old dog new tricks, and sometimes people can’t be saved. the boy will dig his own grave as he’s done with bodies upon bodies before him. mud and blood coats his scarred hands and his ripped up jeans. and he will one day lay six feet under where he knew he should’ve been all those years.

- toby should’ve been dead. and by all means, he is dead. a sick ruthless rot consumes him, like a maggot filled corpse. there are ropes around his limbs, attached to the unknown which commands him. he wakes up with blood on his hands, not knowing where he has been. he isn’t scared. he has nothing to lose.

- he has a taste for peaches. this fondness is the most human you’ll see the boy become. his late sister had peach scented perfume. he always hated the scent. but despite this, you will find the pits in abandoned cabins or littered around the forest grounds, being picked up by squirrels, and you know. you know he’s been here. you know he still has a taste for all he’s lost.

- sometimes, people will play with the idea the boy isn’t as bad as he seems. he has been hurt, more than you could imagine. they will twirl the concept of a troubled boy, a victim of his history, a poor soul, like a lit match in their hands. and soon they will realize it only burns.

- toby rogers is not a good person. he could’ve been. god knows he could’ve. but he has torn families apart, hurt innocents, destroyed things that were once so loved. he reeks of smoke and loss. the smell is pungent, it trickles down your throat and chokes you. his cigarettes burn holes into your favourite shirt, he will cut your hair, smash your new cd. again and again, he will destroy in any new way. and he gets creative.

#tombwrites #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #toby rogers

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theediviners · 1 year

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𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐀𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Collaborative PAC between @astrodoll2 , @neptunianrose, @m00nt4r0t , & @daarlingdatura

PILE ONE @astrodoll2

For this pile I’m seeing your strongest psychic abilities is your ability to manifest into the physical whatever it is you desire, you’d also be really good at witchcraft for this reason especially working with herbs and earthly things, a practical routine could suit you very well especially if you’re more of a logical person the more steps there is to something the more you may believe it’ll actually work since your putting effort into something you also without realizing it are putting intentions into it and greater energy which allows the power to manifest. You can manifest very quickly and easily especially with finances and material luxuries. You bring a lot of stability financially to yourself but you attract it most when you yourself are feeling stable and calm within, for as how they manifest whenever you’re generous with your resources and what you have to offer you receive it back 10 fold, you can be very fortunate and attract a lot of good luck but you could lose it just as quickly if you start doubting yourself, becoming worried or rushing/forcing things by being impulsive due to fear, since your mindset has alot to do with what you’re attracting over thinking negatively will do you any favors on the contrary the more you let go the more you bring in, don’t be impulsive but don’t be afraid to be bold and take risks, along with manifesting you can make actual wishes just by summoning your spirit guides and they will abide. How to strengthen this ability, well like I was saying before your mind needs to be at a relaxed state, meditation is recommended for you, don’t hold onto pains or past failures, you really need to let go of a lot of negative self talk or doubts within that create these limiting beliefs and cause resistance to your manifestions, speaking out loud in your room alone what it is you want like making a request to the universe or your guides, subliminals could help, don’t volunteer in gossip since it only attracts that back. Being optimistic and stable in the knowing that it will manifest is how you will bring it to you and once you start manifesting little things and keep seeing it come to fruition it will build your confidence and help you manifest a lot smoother because I see you will be a master at this once you’ve improved on your self worth especially, working on self concept is great but also because I feel like you may subconsciously feel like you aren’t deserving of all these luxuries you could get or feeling like you should work harder because you’ve heard others say things don’t come easy or money doesn’t grow on trees but honestly that is just a mindset which is why alot of people will stay at that point for basically their whole lives, so don’t let it be you, because I see that you’re meant to have all your desires as well all are but for you it will initially come easier maybe because you’ve had past lives where you were extremely good at manipulating energy so it’ll be natural once you get the hang of it. Let go and let flow. PILE TWO @neptunianrose

Beautiful are the gifts that have been bestowed upon you but the best of them all is your healing ability! Your words are melting walls away, caressing wounds, making worries disappear. Specifically, anything that is related to one's childhood and most innocent years can be so easily healed and through your help! You can identify hidden traumas and cuts. There are times when you think you've said the wrong things and get the truth is that you just hit clode to home, even without intending to. I like your energy if I am being honest. Your gift can be used as a weapon as well but that won't ever be the case cause you don't want to create pain. I am reminded of Katara from Avatar and her amazing skills. If you do intent to expand these parts of yourself you could become quite well known for it. There are many energy healing methods, reiki being the first to pop up in my head, which I recommend you to look into. Whichever stands out to you the best can be the gateway to a whole new path that will bring light into your life. Spiritualism seems important for you and your purpose! I usually dislike talking about things as if they are set in stone but you are clearly meant to use your inclination towards the mystical for helping people. Healing can be in itself a way for you to tend to your own wounds and help you process your grief better. I got the six of cups which makes me think that you can specifically access someone's inner child and fantasies. They feel safe enough around you to allow this aspect come to light and be shown to you (and that only tells us what a beautiful soul you have!). I want to say that, as rare as they might be, occasions in which your gift is turned against others are not impossible. Us humans can be defensive when pushed to, even the kindest of all. So don't underestimate your desire to hurt when you yourself are experiencing a big amount of anger. This is just an advice coming from the source to prevent you from causing too much damage (don't forget you are a human though and mistakes can be made).

What I am about to say in this part is very similar to the paragraph above but, with enough patience, you could easily channel any secret or hidden information. You have a psychic ability which you're unaware of that helps you remove the shadows and see what usually lurks inside of them. You have definitely used it unintentionally at times and most likely thought it was just intrusive thoughts but oh my, that is so far from the truth! I do feel like there is more to your gifts that have been revealed today but you must work on these for now before diving deeper.

PILE THREE @m00nt4r0t

okayy so as soon as i lit my incense, the flame was big and continued to grow in size. it was a bit hard for me to blow it out at first, but don't worry, i did lol. to me, this indicates very fiery and passionate energy, and that it must be contained before it gets out of control and engulfs everything in it's path.

what are your unique psychic abilities? i feel like a major psychic ability you possess is the power to avert danger away from you and others. there's this very protective, nurturing essence that surrounds you and basically scares away danger itself. i feel like the reason you have this is because of your emotional, loving and creative nature. you could've gone through some dark, traumatic experiences that have caused you to have this "man-eater" vibe (although the phrase specifies men, i mean it for any gender.) you have a very deep, emotional side to you that is very nurturing and caring, and you protect it with a harsh demeanor. you are a very passionate person and i wouldn't be surprised if you triggered heavy amounts of passion in others by simply just existing and doing your thing. you could be reposting whatever resonates with your energy and this inspires others to step more into the energy that you naturally possess. you are someone who is very influencing, whether you try to be or not. if you have any siblings, whether they're older or younger than you, i feel like they definitely look up to you and admire your style and your way of being. if they're older, then you influence them to indulge in more "youthful" trends and whatnot. okay, i'm also getting that part of your psychic abilities could be making others sick?? like, if they do wrong by you or have ill intentions with you, they become sick or their skin starts to break out, or maybe even someone they love gets sick. you also cause others to fear changes with you? like, whether the change is good or bad, people you connect with tend to be a bit intimidated by you and aren't very good at reading your emotions nor your energy, so they may think that certain things they say and do will cause a transformation in the connection. also, you have the ability to take on a lot at once. even if you don't think so, you are very good at multi-tasking. i also think that you're most spiritually powerful whenever you're sitting down (or during moments of personal peace and stillness.) you have a lot of passed on loved ones by your side whom are also pretty powerful and they are part of the reason that others get sick whenever they cross you. also, i feel like your power heavily includes your knowledge and your wittiness. you're someone who knows a lot more than they say and this makes you so so so powerful. i feel like people know you know a lot, but they don't know what you know so this can be a bit intimidating to a lot of people. you may also know a lot of secrets which could include other people's secrets and secrets of the universe. i feel like you're more than capable of communicating with those on the other side and you could've been doing so since you were very young. i also feel like your family may be very similar to you in this way, even if they don't believe it. if you have an altar then this is increasing your psychic abilities more than you may have expected it to. lastly… your seductive energy is immaculate and every time you step into this type of energy, it grows stronger and stronger. i'm seeing an aura just expanding and engulfing more and more people within it. i don't want to get to explicit so i'll just say this: if you haven't studied sex magic, you probably should. also, adding your sexual energy into whatever you create will be extremely magnetising, so keep that in mind.

how do your psychic abilities manifest? your psychic abilities manifest in a way that makes others want to cling onto your energy for dear life. people refuse to let go of you. even if they don't speak to you, they will still think of you, check up on you online, ask people about you, be inspired by you, etc. i feel like there's a lot of people from your past who are "stuck" on you, even those who claim not to like you (they're literally in love with you.) and although i said you avert danger, i feel like danger still lingers. to give you a visual, i imagine danger as some person looking at you through the window of your house; they can't get in, but they are watching. this could be in terms of evil eye and baneful magick towards you. i'm also getting that your abilities manifest in the way that others speak to you and about you. for example, people tend to feel very seduced by you so they flirt with you. another example, people don't want the connection with you to change so they over-explain and basically kiss your ass to stay on great terms with you. this feels kind of obvious but your abilities manifest in forms of creativity and random moments of intense inspiration that you get. if you randomly get the urge to write a song, write a book, draw something or make a piece of clothing, it's because your abilities are looking for an energetic outlet. you may tend to keep your abilities to yourself but they are begging to be released and seen/heard by others (3:33 on my clock) because whenever you do something creating, it is being driven by the powers you have within you and you're pretty much doing magick by creating, even if it is just a piece of clothing or writing on a paper. your abilities manifest in the littlest things you do, whether it be taking a bath, smoking a cigarette, laughing at something funny, dressing up to go out. all of it is, of course, inspired by your psychic abilities because they're so magnetizing that even you tend to get hypnotized by them. however, i do feel like whenever you're feeling extremely angry/sad/bitter, then it can manifest some chaos into your life if you don't release these emotions as calmly and quickly as possible. bottling up your emotions is not at all good for you and those around you because of how powerful you naturally are. i feel like you don't have to worry too much because of the fact that you're very protected, but it's still important to keep that in mind. your abilities also manifest in the way that you love and care for others, so i can definitely see a protective shield around those you love simply just because you love them. your abilities may also manifest in those you love and they become more enlightened in their own ways.

how to strengthen your gifts: as i shuffled an image of someone smoking (specifically a blunt, but could be anything) came into my head, so i think that smoking certain herbs (please study which herbs are safe to smoke) can strengthen your abilities! i feel like even smoking marijuana could be beneficial (when monetized) because it can help you analyze more and open up your mind. but, of course, marijuana does not impact everyone the same, so only take that if it resonates. also, meditate!!! meditation really helps to clear the mind of any excess "junk" floating around in there and helps for clearer intuition. if you already meditate, then maybe meditating for a few more minutes or lighting an incense while you meditate could enhance the effects. deep breaths will help you clear your mind as well. this is a pretty obvious one but the more shadow work you do, the stronger your abilities become. i feel like your abilities get "watered down" after long moments of not doing shadow work; this could be for many different reasons but a specific reason i'm getting is because when you don't do shadow work, you tend to be a bit more impulsive/chaotic therefore your abilities weaken for your own good. your abilities strengthen whenever you challenge yourself and allow some healthy competition into your energy. also, sleep!! when you get the amount of sleep that you need, it's easier to control and hone in on your abilities. whenever you take time to be alone and self-reflect, realign yourself and do shadow work, your abilities strengthen immensely. another way that you can strengthen your gifts is simply by not giving up; this shows that you're more than capable of what you got and that you're ready for more.

PILE FOUR @daarlingdatura This is an interesting pile, I see that you may be someone who is able to predict loss, disaster, and other "negative" events. You are someone who's abilities are deeply rooted in their emotions & the impressions of energy around them. You're reflective, "like a pond" I heard. It's important that you take ample rest from social situations as necessary. I definitely see here that you may be someone who also knows how to like... take on the minds of other people? You can think through their heads if that makes sense. I also sense that you may be able to channel energy or intentions through your hands to bless, heal, hex, curse, or effect things in some way. It's interesting because I definitely feel like your nightmares could end up often being signs. You may also unintentionally dream walk, I see that you may also be prone to anxiety that isn't yours. It's important you cleanse regularly to avoid any entities taking advantage of you.

I see that you may have many more psychic abilities that you don't fully understand or that are still currently dormant. I definitely see that you are being prepped to develop extremely intense abilities. It reminds me of how in Wednesday her mom is a dove & she's considered a raven. You would be a raven, the way that you tend to pick up on danger & hidden information. You usually see through people very clearly, though at times the images can become distorted if you become close enough to the person. When you become incredibly close with someone there can be a sort of energetic merging. Where you're both in limbo drowning in each other's energy. I heard pathological, your abilities deeply deal with the mind & I feel called to say death as well.

I wouldn't be surprised if you have predicted deaths or if you have dreams where the dead appear to you with messages. I feel this has past life roots, it may be possible that you have a divine connection with death and the dead. You may find as you grow closer to people they are forced to shed old skins and rebirth themselves anew. In some ways you are a catalyst, but in a less explosive way. Your energy reminds me of a snake- which I think is beautiful. In ancient times, especially near the middle east female deities were often depicted as snakes or dragons. So this is definitely giving ancient energy. As your gifts develop you may begin to see/hear dead people, you could also develop insanely vivid visions. Some of the people in this pile have already begun developing this gift. I do have a slight warning here, make sure you regularly cleanse and ground. You are extremely connected & it's imperative that you prioritize your health. Your service or abilities either could already be highly sought after or will become highly sought after.

#tarotblr #tarot online #pac #tarot community #pick a card #daarlingdatura #m00nt4r0t #neptunianrose #astrodoll2

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my-hobby-is-finding-the-source · 10 months

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what's your white whale you mentioned?

Concerning a previous remark.

In November of 2018, the Vocaloid and UTAU producer KIRA released the UTAU voicebanks Akarui Kouki and Akarui Hikari, created and voiced by him.

Each voicebank features a mascot character of the same name, with concept art provided by seica.

In the following days, as is the usual for such a momentous occasion, KIRA would receive several messages and comments on Twitter, to congratulate him on the release, including edits as well as drawings of these characters.

I crossed paths with one such message—a drawing of Akarui Hikari, with a peace sing on each hand, head tilted to the side, and with her tongue sticking out a bit, captioned "Queen for the gays", if memory serves.

I though "Oh, cute", gave it a like, and went on my way. I would never see the full drawing again.

Some time later—not sure when I started—I remembered the image and figured I ought to see it again. To my dismay, I could not find the tweet anywhere.

"Surely, it must still be somewhere!" — I thought, naively, as I typed the caption I remembered on Google.

No results.

"Okay, maybe it will show up on Twitter..." — It didn't.

"Just drop her name on Images, something gotta show up!" — Many things did, but not what I looked for.

"Did anyone upload it to a booru?" — No.

"Okay. Okay. There's no need to be lazy, I'll just read every single tweet by and to KIRA since the release date. It has to be there!" — It wasn't. But the effort was not wasted.

I was able to find many replies by KIRA to tweets that have since been deleted, or that belong to missing or suspended accounts, which may explain the disappearance. Unfortunately, not a single one of those replies appears to have been archived.

But. But! In an unrelated reply, I found an old screenshot of a tweet KIRA. In that screenshot, as the portrait of the accomplice, three parties that inadvertently conspired to my torment, in that frozen moment in time, there she was.

To this date, this highly compressed circle-cropped 135x135 ordinary collection of pixels has stood as the single proof of my sanity, the simplest marker of my ineptitude, and the sterling token of my regret.

At this point I'm not sure that I'll ever find it, that it can even be found.

Should I even want to find it?

To finally get to it and lose this strongest reminder of the transience of all things, that you should hang tight to all that you hold dear.

It is said that you are responsible, forever, for what you have tamed, but what about that which tames you?

Maybe if I just asked KIRA if he still has it and remembers who made it, but what then?

To hear a "Yes" and crystalize my incompetence for all eternity, or to hear a "No" and lose even this last speck of hope.

It's just another drawing. It's the most important image in my life.

#answer #white whale

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apprenticestanheight · 5 months

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THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY ONE

Bad Decembers - Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

OKAY!! I would not be me if I did not find a way to worm my love for the holiday season into my love for writing, so that's what the fics coming out in this queue are going to be—not all of them will be the pinnacle of the christmas season but all of them will at least be set in december and mentions of the holidays will probably worm their way into several, but the guarantees I can make are that the fics will either be close to or more than 1k words, and that there will, at a minimum, be snowy weather in the fics because we have gotten snow maybe twice where I am and I can't resist.

This one stems from a thought that I had on the sixteenth where I was like "okay angry and aggressive sex with adam, talk it out, then make up sex for round two yay" but it did change a little bit as things do when they start as ideas but get turned into fics! It's not that different from the original concept—the idea is the same it's just that round two is a little different than how I'd originally intended because I believe in my heart of hearts that Adam would be a fiend for giving oral so this fits that headcanon.

lastly, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, DO NOT INTERACT.

Fic type- this is smut!

Warnings- adam is a guy with anger issues and they get the best of him (it is mentioned a couple of times that he punches a coworker in the face after he was provoked, and the work environment Adam is in is implied to be shitty anyway, as someone slapping someone else is also mentioned) the reader is gn for all intents and purposes but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB but referenced with gn terms and petnames (aside from the word pussy, which only gets used once), Unprotected sex, rough sex, reader is a masochist and Adam is kind of sadistic, oral sex (m! giving) bruises do happen because adam gets a bit manhandl-y and bruises and rough biting ensue, as does rough groping. Pet play is also in this one a few times (in use of the nickname puppy only, gn terms when smut writing aren't my strongest suit so puppy is for some reason my go-to)

December, despite all of the cheer and festiveness it usually carried, was just not your month, so it seemed.

Work was very, very difficult for you, which really shouldn't've come as a surprise come the last month of the year, but somehow always did.

Crappy coworkers always became the crappiest versions of themselves with the onset of the holiday season, and by December, amidst having to listen to your coworkers complain about how difficult their relatives were to shop for, several HR-funded Christmas parties where you and Adam would drink some of the cheapest booze and listen to your crappiest coworkers complain, and a Secret Santa gift exchange with a minimum—yes, a minimum, which to you seemed kind of ludicrous, though a max amount was certainly something you understood—spending allowance of $150 and a maximum of $380, you were angry and exhausted and looked forward to the nine days off you took between the twenty third and the thirty first like nobodies fuckin' business.

The only bright side to working in that company was the fact that you'd gotten the opportunity to get your secret santa—and one of the few decent coworkers you had in your offices, one named Claire who was actually breeching close friend territory more and more by the day—a bundle of things she'd mentioned really needing in those past few weeks thanks to the budget imposed by your offices.

You'd had the chance to get her a couple of the books she liked in addition to a couple of gift cards to grocery stores and gas stations as she was in a very tight situation with her mooch husband who refused to work point blank period. You'd gone over budget with her gift, actually, and it was the first and last year you'd ever do that.

You were working in marketing and sales and you made $2000 biweekly, which covered your half of rent and utilities, groceries and other bills with something like six hundred to spare to use as fun money. When you'd brought it up with Adam, who'd met Claire a good couple times at those Christmas parties and thought she was great for your morale, he'd supported you, said to go all out because you'd have the money back in your account two weeks from your latest paycheck anyway.

So, grocery cards, gas cards, books and around $100 in stowaway cash later, you'd gone over budget by $80 but had zero regrets because of how happy it made Claire at the end of the gift exchange.

For what it was worth—you were gifted a Nespresso and five boxes of Nespresso pods from someone who practically loathed you and probably wanted you to refuse it, but by the 21st you were so sick of work and people and everything else that you just faked a smile, said your thanks in a way that seemed just a little too sweet and definitely a bit too happy, and knew that you and Adam would cherish that Nespresso for all of the glorious coffee it made on your latest nights until it broke in the years to follow.

Getting home from the gift exchange at six, you were tired and angry at the world, pretty much, and it seemed—based on vibes alone—that Adam was much the same.

For Adam, though, it had definitely been work. After the trap, he'd switched from working as a glorified snitch for far less money than all of it was worth to working closely with a gallery that liked the shots he took enough to commission him for collections of photos. The commission money was certainly more than enough—from commissions, he got $3000 a month for 300 photos, which were typically displayed for six, eight, or ten months before he had to pick a new theme and the cycle repeated—but the gallery people he was working with were much like your coworkers in that they became the worst versions of themselves in the holiday season.

The collection he'd been trying to get together had been one part of a four hundred photo collection that captured Jersey in the winter which was due to start displaying on the 23rd and would stay up until the second of January the following year. He was working with three other people and the gallery staff and all of them were too stuck up to actually cooperate with him.

To that point, it had been twenty-one days of screaming matches, crappy coffee made worse by the bitterness Adam felt, and fighting day in and day out to keep his anger internal while he was in the apartment you shared because yelling at you, when he'd worked so hard to keep his anger issues in check? That was, under no circumstances, an option.

The first four months of your relationship had been spent with fights once every two weeks because Adam was still trying to learn how to keep his anger in check after letting it go unchecked for so long, and you'd been dating for five years. In those five years, after that rocky four months, you'd both found a balance and you both loved that balance. Adam wasn't going to fuck it up because he was angry at people who existed in a realm completely othered from the one where you were.

Well—he was going to try to avoid fucking it up for himself.

He's sitting on the couch, stewing in his anger when you come home. You grin at him, exhausted, and Adam leaves to the kitchen before you can get a word in—he'd been warned to expect a joint call sometime before midnight in relation to the collection that he had to take 100 photos for and he was antsy as well as angry, and he doesn't want you to see him like that, spiteful and angry at anything that breathes the wrong way.

He tries to make coffee with the pot you'd taken when you'd moved out of your parents place eight years prior, though the coffee machine seems to have a disagreement with Adams idea as it refuses to work, which causes Adam to snap.

"Fuck!" He shouts, hitting the coffee machine and regretting it because damn, plastic meeting knuckles is a horrible feeling. "All I need is some goddamned coffee, but no! The fucking machine—"

You step into the kitchen. When Adam hears your footsteps, he turns on his heels to face you, sees your grin.

"The coworker who loathes me gave me something that will definitely make your night a bit better," you say. "He probably wanted me to refuse but I figured we would need a new one soon anyway. It's a Nespresso, there are five different coffee types to choose from, and all you need to do is set it up. Shitty month?"

"Shitty is a fucking understatement," Adam grits his teeth. "I'm just so pissed off at the world right now, Y/N. I wouldn't be around me if I were you—when I get like this I am a flight risk because I tend to want to break things. Punched a guy in the face today and was reprimanded for an hour or three, which just made my day a lot fucking longer than it needed to be, and everything is shitty all the goddamned time and I'm sick of it."

You nod, further enter the kitchen and set the Nespresso up while Adam stews in his anger, trying to calm himself down in the ways he normally does only to find that nothing is working. He's frustrated with everything that's happened in the past three weeks, and the more he reflects on that time the angrier he gets.

And then, something happens. You accidentally sidestep onto his foot and the floodgates open, and he snaps. He screams for a solid five minutes about shit that doesn't even relate to you and you just—you just let him. You do fight back but it's like part of you understands that not all of it relates to you anyway so you just let him say his peace, and when he storms off, you don't follow him.

He goes to your bedroom, angry now with the events of the past three weeks, and the fact that he punched someone in the face, and with himself for snapping at you instead of just communicating, and he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall and stewing within his anger until you're opening the door, poking your head in and meeting his gaze.

"You're still angry?" You ask, tone calm and even.

Adam nods, pursing his lips. He doesn't want to be angry anymore, doesn't want to do anything other than let everything go and apologize for all of the shit he berated you for, but he's still angry. Something within him isn't letting him let it go, even as much as he wants to.

"All right," you step into the room. "Would sex help? That way you can just get your frustrations out while also getting endorphins and all that other health shit."

Adam clenches his jaw. "No," he says. "We've never fucked while one of us has been angry, Y/N, and if I'm willing to punch someone in the face while I'm pissed off, I'm a little scared to find out how rough I would be willing to be with you if I did that while so mad I could smoke two joints and still feel it."

You shrug, leaning your back against the door to close it. "So be rough," you suggest. "I don't care, Adam—I think we've discussed it before, but I do like being manhandled. You can leave bruises, too. I don't care how rough you are with me, I just hate seeing you like this and if sex will take your mind off it and if it's something you're willing to do, I want to do it."

"I don't wanna leave you bruised," Adam says. He hates how obvious it is that he's half-lying. He doesn't hate the idea of you bruised—it's just how you end up as such—if someone else hurts you, he'll be ready to commit murder. But if he were ever to do that? He would feel immeasurably guilty.

"You're lying to me," you say, catching onto it immediately. "You don't want me bruised as in black eyes or punches or something else physical and abusive and you would never, ever do that to me so I'm not at all worried about that, but you would absolutely cherish the bruising on my hips and arms from holding onto me that tight during sex. I would cherish them, too, actually."

Adam tsks, "masochist," he says before biting on his bottom lip. He gets to standing, crosses the room and closes in on you, grinning as he feels your breath against his face.

"If I'm a masochist, you're a sadist," you whisper pointedly. Adams hands go to your hips, holding them tightly, thumbs pressing into your skin until he finds your hip bones and you moan just low enough for Adam not to hear it at the contact.

"Mhm," Adam whispers as he leans in so that his lips are millimeters away from your pulse point. "Gonna let me use you, puppy? Need an outlet for my anger, and you did offer."

"Yeah," Adam can't help but smile as he presses himself up against you and notices the way that your arms clench at your sides because you're physically trying to keep yourself from leaning into his touches, not wanting to give into it as quickly as you might've when he called you puppy. "All yours to use, Adam. Please. Don't want you to be angry anymore, and if using me is what it takes then go ahead."

Adams left hand moves from your hip to your face, thumb tilting your chin up and to the left so that he has better access to your neck.

"Good puppy," he whispers, this time close enough to hear the quiet moan that the praise pulls out of you. "That's all you are, isn't it? Just a good puppy, reliant on praise and my cock."

You haven't had sex since early November, so both of you are sexually frustrated, which is the icing on the fucking cake.

You moan in response, grinding your hips against him. He pushes his leg between your thighs as his tongue presses flat against your pulse point, the grip he holds on your hip remaining steady. The hand thats on your face moves down to your hip again, thumb pressing until it finds the bone.

"Mine to use," Adam says after a couple of seconds. The anger that's within him exists like a fire pit in his stomach, burning bright and burning hot and burning unrelentingly. "Right, Y/N?"

"However you want," You don't know how you're managing to speak. "As rough as you want, Adam—fucking hell. Please."

"You're perfect," he loosens his grip on your hips, kisses down your jawline until he's back at your lips again.

When he kisses his way up to your lips, the kisses he leaves in his path are rather sweet. His hands are groping aggressively at just about anywhere they can get to, and when his hands settle on your hips again, your lips are on his and the kiss he pulls you into, tongue sliding into your mouth as you open it in a quiet moan, is enough to leave your lips bruised.

Adam doesn't pull away until you're starting to and he's realizing that he can't really breathe. You press your forehead against his shoulder and take a deep inhale, arms settling around his waist.

Adam pulls away, cups your face in his hands. "Getting submissive on me already?" He asks teasingly, grinning at you a little. "Oh, Y/N. You're so easy."

You hum your agreement. "You always manage to make quick work," you murmur, moving to lay down on the bed that you share. Adam stops you, unbuttoning your work shirt and tossing it into the farthest corner of the room before you can go any further. You lay on the bed as Adam takes off the granddad sweater he'd chosen to wear after having absolutely nothing else in his closet during what would later turn into a laundry evening, happy to stare at the ceiling while you wait for your beloveds next move.

His lips are on yours again seconds later, one hand roving over your chest while the other is near your face after he'd bent his arm at the elbow to hold himself up.

After he's kissed you sufficiently, he moves his lips down your neck, kissing and biting and sucking at the skin mercilessly. You wonder, for a second, if he wants to draw blood and decide that if he does, you'll let him because the pain feels so good.

Adam laughs after he's bitten down on your collarbone particularly harshly and you've moaned lewdly, rolling your hips against his half hard length without thought.

"You're such a slut for pain," he nips at the skin again gently. "I really do think that I could cut you to pieces and you'd thank me for it, Y/N."

the thought of it makes your core wet, and so you give an embarrassed nod. Adam just laughs again, lifting your hips while still maintaining an aggressive hold on them and releasing that hold to take off your pants and underwear, leaving you completely open and bare in front of him.

You shiver as a gust of cold Jersey air gets through the room through the slightly opened window, nipples hard as pebbles from Adams ministrations, and watch him take his own pants and boxers off.

"Want me to wear a condom?" Adam asks.

You shake your head. "I can take a plan B pill," you respond. "Just--please. Please don't make me wait. Need you."

"Good puppy," Adam breathes. He goes back to kissing you before his lips move to your chest, biting and sucking at your nipples in the way he knows makes you melt the quickest. "Gonna let me do whatever I want, mm? Even if it means you're in pain?"

"Adam," you moan as he presses his cold tongue flat against your warm skin. "Fuck—mmm, whatever you want. Please, just—please don't stop. Please don't—"

"Pain slut," Adam laughs a little. "You love this, yeah? Love me using you, manhandling you, not giving a fuck if you get bruised up?"

You moan, pressing the back of your head into the pillow.

"Speak to me, baby," he murmurs, pressing kisses down your navel.

You whimper, bucking your hips against Adams shoulders and Adam repositions himself so that he's eye level with you again, holding your chin lightly.

"Use your words for me, baby," he says. "I know you love how this feels, yeah? I know you love it when I bite you because you like the pain that the biting draws out, but how am I supposed to know you want me to keep going if you don't tell me? How am I supposed to know you're not whimpering, not squirming, because the pain is too much?"

"Adam," you moan, rolling your hips against nothing. "Adam, it—you—oh my fucking—" you moan again, and Adam smiles.

He moves back to where he'd been before kissing down your navel to the place where you needed him most, kissing back up to your lips again and wetting his dick with the wetness from your folds before he thrusts into you in one fell swoop.

He gives you maybe three seconds to adjust to his length before he sets a quick, aggressive pace, one hand on your hips to keep you steady while the other sits on your breast, first finger and thumb pinching your nipple with as much force as he can muster. He needs the anger to be gone, needs it to be replaced by the comfortable, airy feelings that come with sex and post-sex glory, needs to get his anger out of his system before he's at risk of snapping at you again.

He thrusts with as much fervor as he can, trying to rid the anger from himself with each thrust. It works, for the most part, and when his hand finds your throat and presses on the sides but is careful to avoid the front, most of the anger goes out of his system completely.

You lean up into his touch, and Adam laughs at it.

"Pain slut," he whispers, leaning down to bite and suck at your nipples.

Adams release triggers yours, and Adam thrusts through the aftershocks before he pulls out, falling to your right and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close.

A few minutes pass by. You get up to use the bathroom and return to Adams embrace, press a kiss to his lips and look at him like you want to talk.

"You've been angry for three weeks," you say. "If you're in a talking mood, let's talk, yeah?"

"I know that photography is what I'm good at, and normally I love it but I think I have something of an independence issue with regard to working there," Adam admits, moving the hand that's on your waist up to your face. He just wants to kiss you senseless, kiss you until he forgets his own name and how to speak words other than yours, but he knows he owes you a conversation—an explanation, mostly, and an apology. "I just can't do it. I can't work with other people. Three people on this project besides me and all of us are in conflict day in and day out because we're all apparently averse to compromise, and yeah, I punched Harry in the face but he smacked Kelce the other day because he didn't agree with one of Harrys ideas. It was payback, which I know doesn't excuse it for shit, but—I just—"

You press a kiss to Adams forehead. "I'm sorry that work has been so terrible," you murmur. "Soon as you get this installation done, though, you'll be able to work on your own again. Gotta practice a bit of optimism, baby. Gotta see the bright side and all that."

Adam laughs. "There is no light at the end of the work related tunnel," he says. "I'll be due in to work with the same group of people in the spring, and then in summer, and then in autumn. I've been told I'll have to do my own installations on top of that, which will mean picking more themes, dealing with more disagreements."

He props himself up on his elbows, presses a quick peck against your lips.

"I'm sorry," he says, green-blue eyes meeting yours. "About earlier—snapping at you like that? It was a dick move, and with the coffee—I flipped my lid in a way that was completely unfair. I'm sorry you had to get screamed at like that, everything just boiled over and taking it out on you is the last thing that I should've done."

You nod. "It was a dick move, and you do kind of need to work on talking it out with me before the shit hits the very angry fan, but you're forgiven," you grin at him. "If it helps, work hasn't been a picnic for me either. Never is during December."

Adam groans. "You work in an office," he notes. "How many of your coworkers complained about how difficult it is to buy gifts on their salary?"

"Everyone who had anyone willing to listen," you laugh. "Claire liked the gift I got her for the Secret Santa gift exchange, though. Glad I was hers—were it Leon, I fear she would've gotten a book on being a housewife or some shit like that. James was the guy who got stuck with me, which means we have a Nespresso. Bastard probably wanted me to reject the gift, too, because he scowled from the window at me while I loaded it into the back seat of my car."

Adam laughs. "Good thing the old coffee machine broke when it did, then," he pecks your forehead, feels the desire to kiss you senseless evade all of his senses. "A broken coffee machine turns into a Christmas miracle! Oh, glorious day."

You laugh, hand moving up Adams shoulders until your cupping Adams face, hand resting against his jawline.

"Was my apology good enough?" Adam asks, dipping his lips to your neck as your hands slide back down his and you let your arms drape over his shoulders.

"Why do you ask?" You know why he's asking, but you want to hear him say it. He had his angry fun, and now you get a shot to have a bit of fun of your own.

"There's something that I haven't tasted since early last month," he kisses until he's at the center of your collarbone. "Miss it, is all. Had a bit of a craving lately too, if I'm honest."

You spread your legs on impulse, already weakened and ready to let Adam give in to his whims. It makes him laugh because of course the bastard notices the movement, and he nods.

"You're amazing," he presses kisses down your chest, careful to kiss lightly over the places where light bruising has started because of how aggressive he was with his groping, kissing delicately over the places where the bite marks remain. You hate how quickly he can get you hot and bothered but admire it all the same, hate how you thrive off the feeling of his wet kisses and his perfect tongue moving down and across your torso.

"You're depraved," you try to say it, but it comes out as a moan, and you feel Adams smile against your navel. "Absolutely fucking depraved, Adam."

"Well, if you weren't so fuckin' ethereal, I might be less depraved, but every time I look at you all I see is perfection. Can't help it, baby."

He kisses across your lightly bruised stomach to your hips, careful to kiss lightly over the already-forming bruises that match the shapes of his thumbs.

"'M sorry about these," he says. "Sorry about all of it—the bruises and the bite marks. I didn't mean to hurt you this bad."

"It doesn't hurt," you assure. "And even if it did—I like the pain, Adam. The pain is good, I promise."

He kisses the bruises on the sides of your hips, too, nods. "I momentarily forgot about the masochism," he admits. "They do look nice, but I just can't help feelin' bad about being that rough."

"Focus on how nice they look," you hope it comes out reassuring. "They don't hurt, Adam. I promise. If I tell you not to worry, will you listen?"

Adam hums, kisses along your stomach to your other hip and takes his time there as well.

By the time Adams gotten to your thighs, you're wet and aching and just about ready to start clenching around nothing. He's got you needy and wanting, which is what he wants, and he loves it.

He turns his gaze to yours as he presses his tongue flat against your clit, loving the way that you writhe, clenching around nothing in response.

"So wet for me," he says, kissing along the outside of your pussy. "Good God, you're perfect."

And then he's licking at your folds, eating you out like he's a man starved, and you're not even trying to be quiet because of how consumed you feel by his lips and his tongue.

He moans against you, clearly getting off from getting you off, and can't help but buck your hips against his face.

He laughs, pulling away for a second. "You're so fuckin' needy," he says, bringing one finger to your gaping hole and slowly pushing it inside you.

You clench around the digit, moaning. "You're the reason. You and your perfect tongue, your amazing lips," you moan, arching your back off the bed for a split second.

He brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, thrusting into you with one finger, doing as you wish when you start begging for a second and a third.

"Adam," you moan, "fucking hell—Adam,"

Your orgasm crests, and you feel Adam moan against you with his own release as you cum over his fingers.

Breathless, your gaze moves up to the ceiling as you feel Adam pull his hand away. You turn to him as you hear him get up, watch him make something of a show out of licking your cum from his fingers.

"Just as good as I remember it," he grins teasingly at you, leaves to go to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, he's telling you that a bath is ready and you're leaning against him as you walk to your bathroom, sinking into the hot water and pressing your back against Adams front.

"I'll get better at communicating before it boils over," Adam murmurs, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Promise, baby."

You hum, leaning against him. "We can work on it together, yeah?"

Adam nods. "That sounds like a nice idea," he says.

Silence lapses, though its comfortable. You get out of the bath tub and stumble back to bed because of how jello-y your legs feel, which Adam laughs at even though he knows he's to blame, and when you steal a pair of his boxers and one of his button up flannels, he doesn't object, merely pulls a pair of boxers and sweatpants on himself before joining you in bed and pulling you close.

The two of you fall asleep early that night, curled up together in the quiet of a Jersey evening in the tail end of December. Adam sleeps through the call from the gallery and you sleep through the call that Claire tries to get to you to talk about the aftermath of the Secret Santa gift exchange, but the sleep you get is so good that the missed calls feel entirely justified.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw (2004)#saw posting

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11queensupreme11 · 6 months

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We already have the Percy baby au but are we also in that same au "The biggest custody battle ever"?

We start with the normal baby Percy, where instead of a teenage Percy we have a baby Percy, but this au is also a mix of the pregnant Loki au

In the PJ universe, Sally got pregnant and gave birth to Percy normally and since Percy is Poseidon's only daughter she gives her a little attention and affection, but during the night baby Percy is taken across the magic bridge, I forgot the name sorry) to the ror universe and reappears in loki's womb exactly the same way it happens in pregnant loki au

By then we all know what happens so I'm going to skip the part where the Norse and Greek family get attached and start to love baby Percya, my interesting idea comes after this

Meanwhile, in the ror universe, Loki gives birth to baby Percy, who during the gestation period became a deity, I will explain more about this concept below:

for the divining of baby Percy I am based on two myths the birth of Dionysus and the creation of the Milky Way, in the first myth it is said that after showing his real divine form to one of his lovers it is pulverized leaving it in the dust only the baby she was pregnant with and to avoid the death of the fetus Zeus opened a slit in her thigh where he placed it until birth and because he was generated for three months in a divine body when he was born he already possessed divinity, In the myth of the Milky Way, Ivy is tricked by the Antenna into breastfeeding Hercules, but he suckled with such force that he hurt the goddess's chest, who with a scream moved away and ended up spilling her divine milk towards the sky, ending up like this for creating the Milky Way

Percy had already been born when she was transposed into the Ror universe, but as she didn't yet have the Achilles curse, her little body would disintegrate, so to prevent this from happening, Bifrost placed Percy in Loki's womb (I can't think of a specific reason, maybe he was just the closest compatible person at the time? I kind of like to think that Bifrost is conscious and chose Loki thinking about his compatibility with Percy)

for being generated for another nine months (or less) in a divine womb, Percy's humanity was being consumed by Loki's divine power (imagine red paint and white paint, a small portion of the two was mixed which resulted in a pinkish tone, Now imagine that this same pink tone for months received small amounts of a new shade of red, the shade of pink that was once a perfect balance between red and white has now become a new shade of red, you and I know that this shade before it was pink but anyone looking at it now would be unable to know that as the pink/white tone has been diluted to the point where it almost doesn't exist; this is exactly what happened to Percy's human genes, they were consumed and eventually erased by the genes loki's divine genes until all that was left were ror poseidon's also divine genes)

In some myths it is said that a large part of Hercules' strength comes from the fact that he was suckled by the divine milk of Hera (who had the strongest milk among all the goddesses), so drinking Loki's divine milk would be the final nail in the coffin to kill Baby Percy's humanity (mainly because Loki spent several months breastfeeding Baby Percy, unlike Baby Hercules who was only breastfed once by Hera)

Meanwhile in the PJ universe the gods finally discovered where baby Percy went and how to get her back, Poseidon tells Sally that he is going to get their baby and after much imputation on Sally's part he agrees to take her along, the two of the other Greek gods use the Bifrost of their universe to reach the ror universe

That's when all the shit happens:

With an explosion of light from the Bifrost, the PJ Greek gods, enter the ROR universe and meet their ROR counterparts.the first thing Sally sees is baby Percy and she screams for her baby and that's what breaks everyone out of their trance, Loki is obviously offended as a random human screams that it's his baby's hand, pj Poseidon holds her arm stopping her to run towards Loki

The ror gods are exuding a huge murderous aura, especially Poseidon and Loki, so PJ Zeus begins to explain that they are from another world and that in fact Baby Percy is the son of PJ Poseidon

OBVIOUSLY the ror gods do not accept this explanation and a huge fight ensues, the ror gods and the PJ gods are arguing about which of them has the right to the child, and then someone (probably ror Eris) proposes to decide this in a divine court/judgment, the PJ gods argue that ror Zeus will be partial to his brother so everyone decides to bring in another Zeus from another dimension (maybe the Zeus from "BLOD OF ZEUS")

The entire trial would be a much more violent version of that biblical tale where King Solomon had to judge which of the two women was telling the truth about being the real mother of the living baby and which of them was lying and was actually the mother of the dead baby

The PJ gods argue that Percy's biological parents are Sally and Poseidon since it was his seed that impregnated Sally and it was she who originated, carried, cared for and breastfed Percy until she was kidnapped from her crib and taken to this world

The ror gods argue that they are also Percy's biological parents since Loki also carried, cared for and breastfed Percy, they also emphasize that Percy is a complete God and not a demigod therefore it would be impossible for Sally to give Percy the necessary care

Of course, the Norse ror gods also enter the discussion, I argue that if Bifrost chose the ror gods as parents, it is because he judged that the PCs would be incapable of properly raising the child, Grandpa Odin is not willing to let anyone take away his granddaughter. of the family and Uncle Thor (who will be a secret romantic yandere hahaha) won't let anyone take his niece (and future wife) out of his reach

This arouses the interest of PJ Zeus, who now really wants to take Baby Percy back (maybe he will also discover that Percy is essential to the future survival of Olympus) PJ Poseidon argues that he will take Sally and Baby Percy to live in Atlantica

which is countered by ror poseidon who points out that the tides over PJ Poseidon's domain are tainted and who asks why he didn't take Percy to live with him sooner (think that before the trial boz Zeus analyzed each of the worlds and how were the conditions of the parents)

I just imagine Sally crying and begging them to give her baby back, PJ Zeus says that if they want a child so much, just ror poseidon and loki make one instead of stealing one from a pair of worried parents

of course the ror gods are being supported by the other ror pantheon, everyone fears and hates Poseidon and Loki but they still love baby percy who is so cute and charismatic always trying to pull her hair and smiling whenever she is held by someone

Loki is not moved by Sally's crying and absolutely denies that anyone other than him has the title of Percy's mother, Ror Poseidon seems to me like those men who find it disgusting to create someone who has no biological ties to you but the way he is a hypocrite he will probably become the number one defender of that saying "father is the one who takes care"

Meanwhile baby Percy is being held by boz Zeus who is in the judge's place, she doesn't even have the mental capacity to understand what is happening so while the tension and the desire to kill grows she is playing with some toy until she feels hungry, at that moment she cries and boz Hera says that she is probably hungry and at that moment both Sally and Loki get up with the intention of going to Percy to breastfeed her

This is the breaking point because after seeing Sally get up Loki tries to attack her, the PJ gods defend her and in the end they all decide to determine custody in a battle to the death, so now years before Ragnarok the gods are organizing the coliseum to carry out the greatest battle that has ever happened, God against God with only one objective: to have custody of baby Percy

This conflict is so big and violent that it makes all the confusion that generated the Trojan War seem like child's play, baby Percy is literally the new golden apple that started a war between worlds, in the background the PJ and Ror Éris are wondering if MAYBE Baby Percy isn't actually a descendant of one of them

honestly it's very difficult to write an idea and in my head it had much more detail, I can't even imagine how exhausting it must be for you to write a fanfic, you DEFINITELY have my respect I would also love it if you could present how you think the ror poseidon would react, I tried but trying to write about him seemed impossible, and thank you so much for that comment you wrote about how I should be a dark romance writer, it inspired me and I'm really going to start organizing myself to start writing and post on my tumblr 😘😘😘)

first off, this was so beautifully written, i was entertained by every word you typed 😭 you are very big brained 🧠

i can just imagine, as an act of desperation, maybe one of the pjo!gods would (zeus??) would mention the great prophecy and how percy, as one of the children of the big three, would be a strong contender for being the prophecy child that could save/raze olympus

but that would be a huuuuuuuuge mistake to mention because that would just make the ror gods pissed 💀 they're essentially asking for percy back just so they could use her, plus, none of the ror!gods would give a shit if the pjo universe was in danger, they'd be happy if they were all to die

either way, i definitely see the poseidons having a whole cat fight in the middle of the court. idk, maybe one of them tried to teach percy how to say 'dada' and the other one just lost his shit 😂 as for sally, poor woman's gonna need to be guarded 24/7 cuz she's in the BIGGEST danger in here. not only is she human, but she's claiming to be percy's mother, i definitely see some gods trying to assassinate her when the chance comes

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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eponastory · 2 months

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About bending lightning...

This is a little snippet from Part 2 Chapter 1 (17 if you go by Chapter count) where Katara is practicing her bloodbending on Zuko. While doing this, she learns that the heart generates electricity, and Zuko explains that is why lightning can't pass through the heart.

This is a real thing.

Our bodies naturally generate low quantities of electricity. This is a concept used in The Matrix if you've ever seen it. Humans are used as 'batteries' in that universe. It's a cool concept and actually based on real science. Our bodies are also conductors for electricity as well. We are, in a sense, actual lightning rods.

Because of the minerals, elements, and water content in our body, we make excellent lightning rods because the lightning can pass through without interruption to the ground where it is dispersed. Remember, lightning is energy. It is neither created nor destroyed. It becomes other forms of energy. It is a visible energy that is the fourth state... plasma.

So how does a firebender like Ozai and Azula generate that kind of energy?

Lightning is a lot of energy. It is measured in volts and amps. It is also hotter than the surface of the sun... which is also plasma.

I'm exploring this because lightning both fascinates and terrifies me. But again, how does one generate that kind of energy?

I'm actually glad that lightning is used sparingly in the show because to generate a true bolt of lightning, it would require a lot of energy. Energy that you have to consume and convert from things you eat. I'd imagine that once you use lightning, your body will be depleted, causing fatigue and sluggishness. They don't show it in the source material, but that is something to think about.

But could lightning be absorbed by a well trained firebender? Maybe. Remember, lightning is energy. The body can only take so much and be able to sustain it. Redirecting it, in Zuko's case, means absorbing and releasing in a short amount of time. You aren't really taking it all on, just redirecting it. Iroh teaches Zuko to redirect through the stomach, not the heart, because the stomach is what helps convert energy. The Sea of Chi, as Iroh calls it. This is why Zuko was able to survive Azula's lightning, where Aang was severely compromised from it. Aang was also hit in the spine where the nervous system is compact.

Bending lightning is a high-risk, high reward move if used correctly. But it can also weaken the bender at the same time. So that is definitely a reason not to use lightning as a weapon all the time. Which is why you don't see firebenders using it much.

As for why it should not cross the heart? Because that much electricity passing through the heart could disrupt the rhythm. This is why we use defibrillators to correct tachycardia (rapid heartrate) and myocardial infarction (when the heart can't beat correctly or in layman's terms... a heart attack).

Anyway, this was my deep dive into why bending and redirecting lightning is not used much in the series.

And it was a little morsel from the recent chapter.

I will probably go deeper into why Bloodbending is the strongest form of bending. At this point, we should just call it Body Bending.

#because i am such a nerd when it comes to things #this will probably be boring to some of you but i really dont care let me have my metas!#yes i am exploring this in my Zutara fic #because the human body is awesome #analytical biology #lightning #firebending #zuko #atla #avatar: the last airbender #zutara

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dovabunny · 8 months

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GhostSoap Concept - the MacTavish Bride Games

We can imagine a story where a princess' lesbian lover enters the tournament for her hand amongst the strongest men in the country, the shock that a woman beat all the knights to marry her love.

Now imagine the reverse.

Soap is the only son of Scottish nobility, his bloodline going back to the great clan kings. When the eldest son of the family turns 25, other families from all over send their daughters to compete for the honour to be his bride.

He hates it, feared since he was a wee lad.

The competition brings out the ugly side of people, his Grandpa laughing about stories of competitors who had hurt or even killed each other. It's a spectacle of something that's supposed to be out of love, something kind and gentle and beautiful. Not this.

Then he meets The Ghost. A stranger hired by Price, who manages his family's estate. The man barely talks, is always covered hear to toe, and doesn't give his name.

Ghost turns out to be the best gardener his father ever met, and is put in charge the vast gardens.

The head gardener is also given the garden cottage, as tradition over three centuries dictates. If Ghost isn't alone in the garden working, or tending to his bee hives amongst the flowers, he'll be in his cottage.

Simon grows curious.

Simon is huge, built for battle not tending to tulips and making honey. He can't help but sneak around the hiding spots he had as a kid to catch glimpses and spy on the man.

He learns that he talks to his bees, he uses the honey for tea, and likes to read at the kitchen window.

Soap thought the mask was because he was hiding, and maybe it is, but he also spots him late at night with a soft mask cooking in his kitchen, swaying to music.

Before he realizes it curiosity turns to obsession. He starts approaching the man, making light conversion at first...

When Ghost doesnt seem repulsed or angry, he visits more often, rejoicing when the conversation becomes two ways, when Ghost seems to wait for him, seems happy to have him join him as he works. When he makes Ghost laugh the first time...

... obsession turns to love.

A love that was gentle, beautiful, and kind. There was no fighting, anger, or cruelty. Ghost softens to him, asks about him, notices when he has a bad day, gives him little jars of honey, puts a white rose behind his ear with the thorns carefully clipped.

Then he turns 25.

He begs his father, let the barbaric MacTavish tradition end with him. His grandfather spits at his feet, his father calls him a disgrace to the family name and curses him for being his only son as he strikes him. His mother's eyes - the eyes of a victor - are cold.

He runs.

He runs through the midnight rain, lightning and memory guiding his feet to the door of the cottage hidden in deepest part of the gardens. Tears and rain in his eyes, he knocks.

Ghost frowns when he opens the old wooden door to the storm and first battering at it but immediately his eyes morph into concern and Soap falls into his arms.

Ghost brings him towels and dry clothes, wraps him up in front of the fire and brings him sweet honey tea.

Ghost sits closer than necessary, speaks softly, and Soap breaks at the kindness and gentleness he's never felt. He tells him everything, the competition, his bloodline, their bloodthirst. How he hates it.

Simon pulls him closer and listens. Soap tears up again, drunk on heartache when let's it slip that this - this moment here - this is what he wants, what he yearns for. A happy simple life with real love.

"...Love?" Ghost whispers in breathless disbelief into the space between them.

"...Love." Soap admits.

Ghost takes off his mask and Soap doesn't recoil at his scars. Soap kisses him and Ghost doesn't reject him for his desperation. Ghost takes off their clothes and Soap looks at him like he's beautiful.

Soap gives himself body and soul to Ghost, and Ghost returns his love.

The next morning Soap is gone. Price knew where to find him when his father demanded his son and heir be fetched. The competition was to begin that night, already beautiful eligible hopefuls were arriving at the manor house, their lashes flutter coy at him, their painted nails sharp, and their eyes deadly as they glare at each other.

Soap shuts down as Gaz, his childhood friend and assistant, dresses him and guides him through the motions of the day like he's a puppet. Hah. Maybe Price was right to call him a muppet.

That night is the celebration before the games, it starts with each lady introducing herself. He barely listens as they rattle off their names, own bloodlines, and empty complements.

"There is one late entry," Price announces and calls the final competitor to step forward.

A tall man, his strong figure finely dressed and styled, steps forward. Blond curls neatly tamed, face just as beautiful as it was that morning when the sunrise filtered into the room and kissed his pale skin and long lashes. His scars make him even more handsome, distinguished, fearless.

"Simon Riley."

His father recoils and jumps to his feet, "HOW DARE YOU! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO MAKE A MOCKERY OF-"

Price interrupts. He had studied the rules and every record written of the MacTavish Bride games - there is no rule that the competition is only open to women.

"Bu- But he isn't of noble blood! Only women of distinguished families may enter!"

Simon steps forward, a document with a seal in hand.

"I am the last surviving member of the Riley family, from the O'Riley clan who united the clans of Scotland and Ireland and came over to help them resist the Roman invasion."

Everyone knew the name, the legend of their name in the history books, and the tragedy of how the entire family was slaughtered in their mansion over a decade ago.

His father is speechless. Price reminds him he has no right to deny Simon's participation based on the rules, especially not someone of his blood.

Soap steps forward, breaking the deafening silence in the hall as his footsteps are light but sure across the ancient stone floors. His eyes soft and smile bright in a way it hasn't been in years behind the walls of this house.

"Welcome to the games, Simon Riley."

#soapghost #johnny soap mactavish #cod mwii #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #captain price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #my writing

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