2nd2ndalto

[2nd2ndalto]

the hottest thing ever is not sex but the implication of sex. i wish more of you understood this

[2nd2ndalto]

will solace? <3

Haven't drawn Will in a Bajillion years lol,, here's a lil something for ya'll Solangelo shippers 💖💖

☠️☀️

[2nd2ndalto]

[2nd2ndalto]

how can i communicate to wild bunnies that i am their ally

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They are very important to me 🔥🪶

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they should invent a gender i want to be

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due to budgetary constraints we've redefined the American Dream to be dry humping on the clock

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breakfast of 2.5 coffees and a loose handful of very sour candy my body is going to invent a fifth humor

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my body, tearfully: when sleep???

me: my dude we just woke up!! It’s time for wakefulness and doing things and Productivity

my body, weeping: but???? when sleep?????

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sometimes your brain really just offers you one banger of a sentence and then that's it for the entire rest of the day. creativity expired, the ability to think has clocked out for the day, context for as to how we even get to this sentence? sorry we're all out. this one sentence is all you get.

[2nd2ndalto]

dino saurs were not scary monsters they were mamas with eggs and when they drank water they were like fuckk yessss waterrrr

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oh, ok, i see how it is. you “want me to make more noise in bed” but the second i pull out the bagpipes i’m “not taking this seriously”

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drabble based on this post because i haven't been able to stop thinking about it and also i love yearning <3

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The thing is, Nico doesn’t mean to do it. He doesn’t mean to look, to watch. He doesn’t even mean to be awake. 

The problem lies in the fact that for the past 5 months or so, he’s been continent hopping, jumping from timezone to timezone, only sleeping for stolen hours, stolen minutes at a time. His sleep schedule is a bag of marbles, upturned and scattered all over the floor. Mentally, he knows on some level that he can sleep. Safely. For real. In a soft, warm bed. Not a godly fruit induced trance on the floor of a burnished metal jar. Sleep would be good. Rejuvenating. Morpheus would, most likely, be kind to him. But his body hasn’t quite caught up with the concept yet. 

So he sits, slumped over in his bed, hot and restless, under rumpled sheets, picking at bitten short nails, in the golden light of the newborn dawn that peers through the sliver-crack of his blackout curtains. 

That’s when it happens. Accidentally, of course. 

There’s movement. Just a little. A slip of a shadow, that Nico sees, through the crack in his curtains. But he’s been hypervigilant for the better part of 3 years now, and that’s not going away any time soon. 

He jumps out of his skin, just slightly, and shifts in his bed to peer out the window through the split in the fabric.

Across the common green of the cabins, stands Will Solace. He’s painted in blues, pinks and oranges, like a sunrise, as he pulls his feet up behind him, stretching for a morning run. 

Nico feels, irrationally, a spike of jealousy. It's hot and consuming, run up his spine, as he watches Will stand in the dawn sun. Then, seeping into his mind like the treacherous waters of the Lethe, his brain betrays him. 

“Where’re you going?” Nico would murmur, half asleep, as the bed shifts next to him.

Will would laugh, husky with morning, like campfire smoke. “Mornin’ run.” He’d card his long, clever healer hands through Nico’s bedhair. 

“Not yet,” Nico would whine. He’d throw his arm over Will’s waist, pulling him back down into bed. Will would fall in with an oof and a fond noise. “Stay.”

“You do this every time,” Will would respond, with sweet acquiesce, pulling Nico into his chest, tucking his head under his chin. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“I’ll go with you, if you just stay another hour,” Nico would lie, tangling their legs together.

“I know you’re lyin’,” Will would laugh out, and they would drift back into a honey painted doze, until one of Will’s siblings would show up, pounding on the door, demanding Nico surrender him for the day. 

Nico grits his teeth and shakes his head at the daydream. Something in his chest howls.

It’s not the snarling, snapping, angry and scared kind of beast he’s used to, though. It’s more like a puppy, maybe. Or something that’s half of a bonded pair, calling for its other half. 

His eyes get hot, pinpricks that mock him. He shoves the heels of his hands into them, just briefly, and looks back out the window. 

Will is rolling his neck out now, and his hair is caught in the rising sun. It makes him look like he’s ablaze, wearing a crown of wrought, golden fire. All he can think is how soft it would feel between his fingers.

Nico scoffs at himself. It’s ridiculous, he thinks, as he stares at Will’s movements, measured, and practiced, for him to be so jealous of the sun. That he is so envious of something that Will was basically born of. That he, sitting here, swallowed by a cabin made of stone, shadow, and bone, believes that he is more deserving to run his scarred, death marred hands over Will’s skin. That Will would want him more than the life giving rays of his father’s chariot. 

It is a ridiculous fantasy, concocted by Nico’s traitorous mind. He’s squashed them before. He can do it again. 

Nico knows he’s been looking through the sliver in his curtains too long when Will glances over to his cabin. His eyes, blue, blue, blue as the sea in Venice when he was a child, come to meet his. Will’s lips curl, ever so gently, into the softest of smiles. 

Because that’s who Will is. He’s kind, even when he’s being strict, being bossy. Nico had learned that, during his mandated infirmary stay. Will wouldn’t be mean, when he catches Nico being a creep. 

Nico pulls his curtains closed, fast as he can, and dives under his covers. He breathes deep. Forces the fluttering in his chest down. Beats it with a hammer, a club, as hard and as cruel as he can.

He’s squashed feelings like before. He can do it again. 

Right?

[2nd2ndalto]

love is stored in the fictional couple i’ve gotten overly invested in

[2nd2ndalto]

if we’ve been mutuals for long enough i don’t even care what you post anymore. if one of my mutuals of two years suddenly gets really into competitive caber toss i just accept zenlike that half my dash is going to be gifsets of burly men hefting logs forever now. i adapt to all online conditions like an animal with high toxicity tolerance

[2nd2ndalto]

[2nd2ndalto]

your family and career shouldn’t be your priorities. your priorities should always be your blorbos and archive of our own