This Is My First Post So....

PSA TO YOUNG ARTISTS

or artists who aren't used to people commissioning them.

NEVER trust someone who comes into your comment section asking for YOU to DM THEM about a commission.

99% of the time they are scams and they will try and take advantage of you. An actual commissioner will DM you directly or ask you about a price sheet.

Also!! double check that they are following you, and if they aren't, that's a big red flag. It's SUPER fishy when it seems like this person is willing to pay real human money for art that they don't regularly enjoy. A follow is free.

DO NOT FALL FOR THIS!! It's a common scam. Stay safe lovelies!

Headcanon that Will Solace knows his routine so well he's found little breaks in between to be able to have a short ass breakdown before going back to out himself together and be his happy self again.

(Ya'll I can write.😃)

"See you!" Will waves as he steps down on the grassy floor of camp. He feet pushing against the wooden panels of stairs as he rushes to talk to Chiron about the lack of supplies arriving in time for the infirmary.

The infirmary to Big House wasn't exactly a five minute walk. Camp was supposed to fit at least a hundred campers in estimation. The acres of camp had to be doubled for that many ADHD demigods to have enough ground to cover.

Will Solace was no exception. And yet he still ran across the field, dodging campers barreling through groups. (And maybe him.) If he wasn't careful, he'd hit the ground faster than you could say— eat dirt!

Routines like these weren't common. But they were often enough that — Will found loopholes to take a break, allow a little slip-up from the perfect smile he had practiced over and over in the mirror.

He still ran across the field. Like a coward running away from his problems and misery. With a goal in set. So different yet so similar.

He found himself somewhere secluded, somewhere people haven't made it into their spot by now. Will hid it well after all, he made sure no one was looking or following his direction.

No one approaching or noticing his existence behind the thick trees.

It was perfect. A perfect place to rest just for a few minutes before going to his mission. He had left earlier than normal. The sudden arrival of news about a day with the supplies of Nectar and Ambrosia had been delayed, and Will had sauntered off to hide between a small area surrounded by bushes.

They were thick enough to gain some time alone even for a short moment. And yet Will knew it so well, he didn't have to glance to know. Arriving at the same place for years has done things that came in handy later.

His feet hits the ground sending vibrations through the earth floor. He takes a moment to catch his breath. To make sense of the smile he had shown to everyone earlier.

A twitch appears. Corners of his mouth droop and it doesn't take long before Will slowly sucks in a breath that seems a little burdening to hold. It doesn't take long before a rush comes out crashing like a quiet sob.

The noises die out. Chattering fades into white noise. Heart pounding as his breath grows uneven just like the ground he stands, his chest swallows him whole. Like the pressure that had been building under that lock and key.

Only he threw the key out and was shoving his emotions in a cage as they grow twice in size. Doubling till the cage breaks.

Just a few moments. He said to himself, slowly dropping down to curl up in his own form of tried that still undoubtedly troubled him. Maybe for good.

He pulled his knees to his chest, as close as it can be. Even if uncomfortable from the way his back stretches. His arms wrap around the scraped knees and counted.

One. Two.

Breathe in.

Three. Four.

Breathe out.

A routine he's been familiar with all these years. Count two — hold it in. Count two again — let it go.

Five.

It was repetitive but it kept Will grounded for all these years since the Battle of Manhattan. A routine he had so carefully pieced together to relearn how to piece himself back as well.

Six.

He needed to be strong for his siblings, for camp. The children that knew nothing but only that camp was safe for them. It was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be perceived as safe.

If he breaks down in the middle of nowhere how the hell is he going to live that image up? Children would realize the person that they depended their lives can easily break as them— will they perceive him as strong? Or just a fraud?

Seven.

Tears filled his eyes but never out to other's. Just a few moments. A few moments to collect himself, let him break, just a small slip-up he'll allow this time. And then—

He cracked.

Eight.

Slowly his breath grew uneven. Not frantic. No. Even in his worst times, even if he's not able to grasp himself. He still tried to take control. He was greedy of it. Even in death he wouldn't let go of it.

Because if he had control he wouldn't be so miserable. If he had control no one would've died, no one would suffer. If he had control no one would mourn their loss like he did over and over again.

But he couldn't.

Nine.

In his own spiraling state. He let just a bit of desperate control slip. Hot tears streamed, his body shook and it was only a matter of time before he needed get back up again.

His sobs were like distance screams of an animal. If you were close you would hear it more clearly. The agony, the distress. Everything that had all been piled into life's cruel hands. Because everything had a place and time. And it never went out of schedule or stepped out of line. So did he.

Ten.

He gripped his arms, forcing himself to stop his shaking. He stiffled his breathing, counting backwards. Eyes closed, he looked up. Trying to breathe again. It was enough time for his self-loathing. He decided.

Opening his eyes, wiping his tears, pinched his cheeks to gain back it's rosy color. Fixed his composure and smiled.

Then with a steady stature. He willed himself to get up. His legs wobbled but never fell. Taking off with his goal in hand. He prompted himself to forget his vulnerability until another time came where he could allow himself to crack again.

He ran across the field to talk to Chiron about the lack of arrival of the supplies he had requested, just like a routine;

Will Solace never stepped out of line as everything always had time and place.

I have a theory about Will's tattoo

It's a sun and so I was thinking that maybe for every sibling he lost in the war is marked as a ray on the sun. so it's like a memorial and it's also on his pectoral close to his heart so he wants his sibling to be with him forever

I also think that he has a couple tattoo with Nico and a friendship tattoo with Lou Ellen and Cecil

Sunflower Siblings they could never make me hate you

He wants to ruffle her hair like a middle-aged dad would to his son for hitting a home-run, but the last time he did that she bit him.

Granted, he gets bit all the time anyway, so his restraint isn’t necessary

cecil markowitz can trip out and he chases will around while he does it.

lou ellen can also trip out. she does the same.

for context this is what tripping out is

What do yall think Nico and Will will look like in the TV show

They are changing many things(not that it's a bad thing) all I hope is that they keep them relatively the same and don't like white wash them or Change them completely

Also they need to make Nico so cool

My babies I love you

what if

will lou and cecil came to camp together.

anyways, they're so smol.

Will wakes up a little bit stuck and a lot bit hot. It’s just past sunrise, from what he can see out of the mostly-shuttered window, which means he’s just pat late. Fuck.

“Nico,” he whispers, trying and failing to delicately free himself, “Nico, un-octopus. I gotta pee.”

He does have to pee. Moreso, he needs to wake up and leave, but if Nico hears so much of a syllable pertaining to his abandonment he will never let go. Ergo. Will has learned some creativity.

“Mmfggh,” groans Nico, maturely. He tightens his arms around Will’s waist and buries his face deeper into the (boiling, suffering, sweating, etc) crook of his neck. “No. Suffer.”

“Nico.”

“Sh.”

“Nico.”

“Sh. I’m sleeping.” Will feels more than sees one eye opening, eyelashes tickling his skin. He can guess at the glare. “Don’t you want me to be well-rested and healthy.”

“Right now I kind of want to flick you, honestly.”

Nico hides a smile along Will’s spine.

“That’s because you’re sick and twisted.”

“Mhm. Get off, di Angelo.”

Nico pouts but, finally, relents: he loosens his hold not enough for Will to roll out but enough that he can actually fill his lungs with enough oxygen to wiggle his way to the edge of the bed. Nico, as soon as Will is not glued to him, huffs and rolls over, smothering himself in Will’s pillow.

“I see how it is,” he complains, muffled. “You don’t want me. Fine. See if I hold you next time you come in here all needy and affectionate.” He shifts just enough to glare, once he’s sure Will is looking. “I’ll close the door in your face.”

Will rolls his eyes, smiling. He’s late, but he lingers a moment, tracing his fingers across Nico’s spine, his ribs; trailing along the reddened scratches over his shoulders and ignoring Nico’s nooooo leave them leave them as he heals them.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“I mean it!”

“Right. You meant it yesterday, too, and yet…”

“You seduced me,” Nico says, emphatically. He sits up quickly and catches Will’s hand, staring at him hard and serious — enough so that Will almost believes him, except the corner of his mouth twitches. “You — did some kind of spell fuckery on me, no doubt purchased from your various witchy sources, and all restraint — gone. Poof. And I have restraint in abundance, so obviously it was not my weakness.”

“Obviously,” Will agrees. “Not like you say my name in your sleep and wake up pouting if I so much as breathe near the door. ‘Course not.”

Nico goes pink. “I — do not.”

Will grins. “You do. Sometimes you try and kiss the air where you imagine I am.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Whatever you need to believe, darlin’. It’s not like I’m allergic to lying.”

He leaves Nico sputtering, cackling on his way to the ensuite. It is half the reason he’s dating Nico, honestly. How come Will’s cabin doesn’t get an ensuite? They’ve got like a billion people in there. They need it more than he does.

But, well. Will needs an ensuite to get ready most mornings, because he’s up before the harpies are cleared for the night, so he supposes he will just have to sleep at Nico’s more often than not. Shame. Tragedy, really, because he is just so attached to his twin bed that is not long enough for his legs. Too bad.

“I can hear you rearranging products in there,” Nico calls, still grouchy. “Cut it out.”

Will turns the last tube of hair gel so it is just slightly off-centred from the rest of the products. He smiles around his toothbrush.

“Wouldn’t be such an issue if you didn’t have so much hair shit,” he responds, spitting into the sink.

“You should have more hair products! Look at yourself!”

Will does not. He does not have a sister who continues to look judgementally upon his mess of a head and passive aggressively but lovingly gift him hair supplies for all birthdays. He also does not have time to do his hair. Less people should maim themselves for Will to handle all day, and then maybe he’ll do something with his hair.

“You think my hair is sexy,” Will says, walking back into the main cabin. Nico harrumphs from under the covers, notably not denying it, and states unabashedly — not that there is much to see, since it’s still pretty dark out — at Will while he changes. Will slips on a scrub top and then walks over and pinches him.

“Ow,” Nico whines, rubbing the spot as if he did not try to hide the stab wound he got sparring from him yesterday. “You hurt me.”

“Mhm. You objectified me.”

“…Only a little!”

Will shakes his head, smiling, and leans down — holding Nico’s wandering hands away from the hem of his shirt, he has places to be and has been distracted enough already — to kiss him. It’s a challenge, pressing his smile to Nico’s pout, but very quickly Nico sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and Will can kiss him properly.

“I’ll come wake you up again around noon if you’re not already up,” he murmurs. “I have to open the infirmary, but then I’m practicing for the rest of the day. You’re coming to my game, right?”

Nico tries to slide his hands up Will’s chest. Will bats his hands away.

“Yes,” he says, mournfully. “I will come watch you hit a ball around with other such interested jocks.”

“Bring your pom-poms,” Will says, cheeky, “and I wouldn’t remiss a matching skirt.”

He pulls away to Nico’s snorting laugh, wiggling his fingers in a wave as he heads to the door. He hears Nico’s quick have fun, goober as he pushes the solid obsidian shut behind him and blows a kiss at the window. He stands on the veranda, stretching, and relaxes with a sigh, staring across the common.

Gods, it is early.

And cold.

He trudges his way to the infirmary, anyway, already anticipating tonight’s koala cuddling.

———

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