That Pistachio Completely Sealed In Its Shell Is Scared And Alone, Like A Miner Trapped By Rubble. You

me when my favourite valgrace creators interact with me

(this is the best thing that's ever happened to me)

the concept of cuteness aggression is so funny. awww you're adorable I need to hurt you

Back pain too, perhaps?

reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead

Don't Let Go - OTP Prompt

Whump Wednesday

Person A: *bursts into the room* "Oh my god—B! I'm here, I’m here, you're okay now—"

Person B: *flinching at the sound, trying to craw back* "Don't touch me-please-"

Person A: *freezes, hands raised* "It’s me. Just me. No one’s going to hurt you anymore."

Person B: *voice shaking* "They said you wouldn't come. That you'd forgotten me. I-I believed them."

Person A: *kneeling slowly, tears in their eyes* "I would tear the world apart before I'd let that happen. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Person B: *finally looking at A, eyes glassy* "I kept calling for you. I thought—I thought if I screamed loud enough, you’d hear me."

Person A: *voice cracking* "I did. I heard you. Every second you were gone, I felt it. I swear."

Person B: *whispers* "It hurts."

Person A: *gently, reaching forward* "I know. Let me help. Please. Just let me hold you."

Person B: *collapsing into A's arms* "Don’t let go."

Person A:*holding them tightly, as though the world.* "Never."

Rb if you were/are a gifted kid I wanna see how many of us ended up here

Piper: bro I think the younger campers are shipping you and Leo

Jason: to where???

On the second or third day of the Battle of Manhattan honestly, Will Solace couldn’t tell anymore. The memories of those days blurred together like a smeared painting. All he knew was that he had genuinely believed he would die there. Not in some noble, heroic blaze of glory, but clobbered to death by a cyclops wielding a giant wooden club, far enough from his siblings—dead or alive—that none of them would see it happen.

He still remembered holding the limp hands of little Kylie from Demeter, ten years old, obsessed with flowers and Star Trek—even though he’d spent way too much time arguing that Star Wars was superior. Her hands were cold, slick with blood. Her glazed-over eyes stared at nothing, lost in the fog of shock and blood loss.

Will had reached inside himself, instinctively trying to summon healing magic like he always did. But there was nothing. Just emptiness. His usual reserve was gone bone dry, like a well in the middle of a desert long since forgotten.

Most of his siblings were dead now, except for Austin, Kayla, and Jasmine. There used to be twelve of them. Two never made it off the Williamsburg Bridge. The rest were taken by monsters in the chaos of the city streets.

Travis Stoll had been assigned to guard the medics by Jasmine,  head counselor now, by default. But he was busy fending off another cyclops. That left Will, defenseless, magicless. kneeling in a pool of blood, trying to tie a tourniquet on Kylie’s leg with trembling hands.

Guess we’ll all be partying in Elysium together, Will thought grimly, watching the shadow of the club rise over him.

Then, impact never came.

Nico di Angelo burst from the shadows like a knife through smoke. All sharp angles and shadows, the son of Hades was silent and fast, his Stygian Iron sword catching no light from the burning sun. He danced around the cyclops with eerie precision, dodging its every swing, slashing at tendons and knees. The club never touched him. He moved like a blade himself, calculated, deadly. And finally, with one clean thrust, he brought the monster down and finished it off, its body dissolving into dust with a hiss.

Will stared, wide-eyed and a little breathless.

“Thank you,” he managed, cradling Kylie as Nico approached, sword still in hand, back to the sun. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He looked down at his blood-soaked arms. “As you can see, I’m a bit occupied.”

Nico gave a small nod, expression unreadable.

Will couldn’t stop looking at him. The black hair falling in uneven strands across his face, the tired eyes, the quiet way he moved like he was used to being forgotten. He was beautiful, broken-glass beautiful. And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the near-death experience, but Will felt something twist in his chest. Something warm. Something terrifying.

“You need anything else?” Nico asked, his voice quiet.

Will blinked out of it. Kylie was now staggering off toward the Empire State Building, a square of ambrosia clutched in her hand.

“No,” Will said. Then, impulsively: “Wait. If you ever… get hurt. Or need patching up or anything—I mean, obviously, I’m the best medic at camp.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

“I’m just saying,” Will said quickly, trying not to sound too eager. “You can ask. I’d help. Any time.”

Nico gave a short, almost imperceptible nod, then turned, already melting back into the shadows.

Will watched him go, heart pounding, and wondered when exactly dying turned into falling in love.

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

If I wanted that I’d just watch the show