Their actual first meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU!
Katara had her Oh moment before exchanging a word with Jian Li, and while she gets over it in time (or, at least, convinces herself that she's not embarrassed by her initial reaction to him) this quasi-interaction haunts her for the first couple of days of their stay in Kyoshi Island.
It's just not fair that the place is full of gorgeous people! Or that he's not only beautiful, but also kind and awkward and respectful and dorky and—oh, La—she's in trouble.
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actually I also wanna talk about the part where Percy convinces Bob to kill Hyperion because even though Percy never says anything outright sinister, the way he handles the entire situation with such cool ease, playing on Bob’s emotions... its so insane???
Because Annabeth’s reaction to the three of them encountering Hyperion reforming is: “oh this is bad we need to get out of here” She knows if Bob remembers himself, that it's not going to play out well for Percy and her. She also thinks about how they're being pursued and don't have a lot of time. Her solution to the problem, seemingly, is to leave.
But Percy's solution is to work the situation to his advantage. He re-affirms Bob's loyalty to him:
Percy then re-establishes Bob's moral code: "Some monsters are good. Some are bad. This Titan is bad. He tried to kill me and a lot of people. He's not good like you are."
And it ends with Percy leaving the choice of whatever to do with Hyperion to Bob but of course, is it really what Bob chose to do? Bob decides to kill Hyperion. It's not what he may have done, if Percy hadn't intervened. But it's exactly what Percy was oh-so-sweetly leading Bob to do.
And listen, I'm not claiming that it was exactly morally bankrupt of Percy to take advantage of a once-evil titan who could get him and his girlfriend through hell in one piece. Percy, Annabeth, they manipulate monsters and enemies all the time. Annabeth ended the previous book with manipulating Arachne into weaving her own web. So it's not exactly like she's against using manipulative tactics, in theory.
But Bob, at this point, is not just some monster. He is so painfully sincere in his belief in Percy and their friendship, so yes, it does feel a bit sinister whenever Percy uses Bob... and he really uses Bob.
And I think what makes the scene so unsettling, it isn't just that Percy manipulated Bob, its how well Percy manipulated him. He manipulates Bob so well that Percy doesn't even have to kill Hyperion... because Bob does it for him. He manipulates Bob so well, that Annabeth couldn't tell if Percy was purposefully trying to manipulate the situation. (Newsflash, he most definitely was). Like holy shit.
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HOLY SHIT I FOUND YOU!! I SAW YOUR FNAF ART LIKE A YEAR AGO ON PINTREST AND I WAS LIKE DAMN THATS PRETTY FUCKING AWSOME BUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME I COULDN'T FIND THE ARTIST BUT I JUST DID, ITS YOU!!
I have no idea which art of mine you found from pinterest but based on what you're implying I lowkey think it's this screenshot redraw I made for the FNAF movie lmao (which I hope I'm right)
Unfortunately you won't get much FNAF art from me nowadays anon, ever since Ruin disappointed me immensely I've just lost most of the hope I've been clinging onto for the franchise, now I'm just here... reminiscing, watching from the sidelines, and making a once-in-a-blue-moon art for it if I'm feeling extra
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you ever think about how Misa's lack of intelligence and the way she lets her emotions impulsively dictate her actions was kinda constantly made the butt of the joke in DN, yet she genuinely outlived all the dudes and dudettes who were always scoffing at her stupidity. Somehow this is even better to me in that she wasn't even trying to outlive Light and didn't have any particularly high regard for her own life, so it's not due to her secretly being the best strategist of them all intentionally either... Regardless of the author's intent behind it I like that it pokes some holes in their constant smug assertions that you must have the very highest IQ to be the last guy standing in the murder notebook game
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Beautiful promethea moth I managed to untangle some cobwebs from last night :) she stuck around where I put her for a while to rest and recover, and was sent on her way just now! At first I mistook her for a cecropia, but after a little more digging (and the help of some sunlight) I found that she more closely resembles a promethea :D I love her and I hope she enjoys the rest of her little buggy life <3
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Can’t stop thinking about Willy’s proposition to the teens. They’re free to go but where?
Back to the place so lovingly crafted by a devoted mother to accommodate for a lack of a father?
Back to the place that once held so much love and strife, the place that reliably held a girl’s mother and best friend only to now hold nothing but a safe left in her name by her stepfather?
To a ruined plot of land, now full of ash and burnt reminders of a presence that will never return?
To a place that once held a child’s whole world?
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ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.
ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.
just for both his broken halves to be rejected.
what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?
his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.
how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?
did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.
who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?
his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.
johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.
he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.
simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.
ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.
whole, in any incarnation.
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