Like what the fuck that person totally fucking missed the point also they basically implied that they've written hate comments before.
so got my first hate comment on a solangelo fic, honestly I don’t rlly care (other than the fact they totally misunderstood the point I was making about Will sometimes giving up control), I just think this person needs to get a fucking grip. Like I’m sorry if my build up was interfering with your jerk off material, but there are better ways to deal with your sexual frustration.
I’ve been posting on ao3 for years, but if I was a newer writer this is exactly the kind of thing that would have shattered my confidence and made me want to stop writing. Like why are you foaming at the mouth cos you didn’t like a smut fic I wrote for free and posted for you to read, for free??
My point is, if you don’t like something, you can literally just stop engaging with it and don’t need to go on an unhinged rant about it.
Still denying Jason death club🤚🏼
Thanks I was going to do that anyway
you know what? Fuck you. *turns your strong and stoic and serious character into a crying, traumatized, whimpering, curled up mess in the floor*
Percy: It’s dark as fuck in here, anyone got a flashlight ?
Nico: Yeah , hang on
Nico:*picks Will up, cracking his back *
Will:
Will: *starts to glow*
Percy : 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀
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.
i reached the end of the valgrace tag on ao3. what do i do with my life now.
Frank Zhang 🤝 Will Sollace 🤝 Jason Grace
When it comes to falling in love with short, eerie looking, outcasts, who each come with a strong aura of death and suffering that goes generations.
I don’t know if anyone has ever done this before but, here ya go… The Different Types of Fanfiction!
I probably left a few out, but these are the most common, compared to their base fiction’s canon plot. Enjoy! XD
Piper: bro I think the younger campers are shipping you and Leo
Jason: to where???
*looks at books* too tired for you *looks at films* too tired for you *looks at art supplies* too tired for you *eyes fall on tumblr* oho ho
Valgrace Valgrace Valgrace
have you ever shipped something so hard that you become irrationally happy and make a sound akin to steam escaping from a kettle everytime they so much as stand next to eachother
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