#sovvngarde

Fjord has been at Camp Halfblood for over a year now and while all the other kids get claimed by their godly parent pretty soon after their arrival, he hasn’t heard anything so far. He knows the other kids at camp are talking about him but it’s not like Fjord isn’t used to it. He has been whispered about before and his human parent–whether father or mother, Fjord has no idea–died long before Fjord’s memories started kicking in.

Fjord has resigned himself to a life in which no one wants him. He fits nowhere, living in the Hermes cabin even though he’s not one of them–at least as far as he knows. When the Oracle of Delphi is ready to give another prophecy, Fjord finds himself in the middle of a quest without really understanding his powers or his heritage. But even though he tries to play tough he’s eager to prove himself.

47. crave

It’s five am and the sun is barely creeping through the blinds, casting long lines of pale blue mixing into a gradient of orange streetlights that haven’t faded yet. It’s a combination rare as Pollux being awake this early and still in bed, sheets tangled around his ankles. But Ricardo’s head rests on his chest and Pollux can’t resist the slow steady movements of running his fingers from the silver hairs at his temples to the black at the nape of his neck. It’s slow, just like everything else is when the world is barely awake; even his thoughts are at a slow crawl, everything at a low simmer. The static of the universe of Ricardo’s head is closest, everything else hazy and indistinct, left to the rest of his senses to ponder. Above, there are the footfalls of someone waking up to face their day and on the street a car kicks to life.

Pollux shouldn’t crave the quiet, the stillness of the world before it takes its gasping breaths, coming alive once more. He’s spent far too long sitting in humanity-sitting in the dark--trying on bits of it to see what fits, how to make others think he fits. Putting the bits on and pondering which parts go where, assembling a mask to hide behind. What lies beneath him when he doesn’t have anything to try on, when his clothes are in a heap on the floor and even in dim light the tattoos are still a shocking orange, marking him like a brand?

In the quiet of the soft blue overtaking the orange as the street lights wink out, Ricardo still breathing, holding him and pressed against his marked skin, he can say he’s nothing more than what--who--he is, and he is...

He is someone.

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Next by the awesome @jessicamarianadraws is My Witcher Reynard and her darling Erich who belongs to my wonderful friend @sovvngarde!!

They are so precious and just the cutest!! <3

!?!??!?!? TAY?? ?? ? ? ?!!?

yes hello i love those ears????

All Sidesteps are precious

the grumps, the gremlins, the softsteps, the sadsteps, the angerysteps

the awkward disasters and the arrogant dumbasses