#treasures: kendall

[izvmimi]

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” with gojo :devious:

“I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.”

Reacting to the sound of his voice, you look up from the vegetables you're chopping, just as the knife hits the hard surface with a loud thud. Gojo is still sifting through your pantry, trying to locate the bag of lentils you asked him for a few minutes ago. You watch his back, he's turned, still focusing on the task at hand, despite the fact that he's made your heart flutter. Even now, despite the fact that you are so obviously his and him yours, and that it's just the two of you in your home together preparing to share a meal out of hundreds, someday thousands, you can feel your cheeks warm bashfully.

It's one thing to know it, but it's another thing to hear it out loud. You fear you'll never tire of hearing it.

But for now, you slide vegetables into a pan and over the sizzle you reply, boldly,

"Duh."

Gojo turns sharply, and his eyes seem to gleam with mischief.

"Confident, aren't you?"

As he approaches, with your request in hand, he leans over you, electric blues devouring you greedily yet again. He sets the bag to the side, keeping his gaze on you then grins widely as you return his look with just as much intensity.

"What are you gonna do? Stop?" you ask, coyly.

"Never."

You expected more banter, but he's caught you off guard. His lips press onto your forehead and soon his hands are in search of skin too, settling on your cheeks gently.

"Couldn't if I tried," he adds.

Your hands cover his gently, and you are overcome.

If I have just you, I have everything is said between you, without words.

[izvmimi]

i'm ASCENDING

izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, suggestive but not outright smutty. more about these two can be found here, this idea was workshopped and is co-brainchild of @izvmimi <3333 | wc 1.2k

You roll your shoulders back and smack your lips together, presenting that glowing smile to a crowd of voracious cameras. Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat, all too aware of the way you keep glancing at him out of the corner of your eye no matter the distance between you. 

“Our organization, Victims of Hero Sanctioned Violence, thanks you all for your time this evening. With your contributions and willingness to report the truth, we will someday truly have that brighter future we have been promised for all of these years.”

The crowd erupts and Deku rolls his eyes, resting his cheek against his raised fist. There’s no need for over the top formality, you sat him at a table with hecklers who have long since abandoned him to go and spend their evening at the front egging you on. His tie is loosened and his shirt is unbuttoned, messy green waves drooping now that the gel he slicked them back with has started to lose its effectiveness.

You’re only here for her, he reminds himself. 

Whatever exists between the two of you is tentative and unnamed at best yet he’s nothing but a moth to your flame, floating frantically around the light you emanate with so little effort. Everyone in this room is obsessed with you, devouring every single thing that you say like animals drinking from a lake after a drought. 

He hates them. 

His fist flexes against his face and he shifts his posture again, legs spread beneath the tablecloth. A petty part of him hopes that you see his unbotheredness through his positioning alone, clearly disinterested in hearing the latest stats regarding property damage and long term disabilities caused by pro heroes. It’s not his business. He has people who regularly deal with this sort of thing yet here he sits, reaching to further loosen his tie when he feels your dark eyes drift to him, your heels carrying you from the stage and through the crowd that attempts to stop and speak with you every few feet.

This is where he rises, pushing his chair out from the table in front of it, ready to act as a shield between you and these people who believe they’re entitled to access to you merely because they agree with your beliefs. Sauntering toward you, he positions himself between you and the crowd, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Nice of you to finally do something to protect someone for once, Deku.” 

A member of the crowd spits and he turns his head, emerald eyes gleaming, ready to bite back. You lift your hand and wrap it around his forearm, squeezing once, silently begging him not to make a scene. Scoffing loudly enough that you can hear it, he raises a brow and keeps his gaze trained on the man who apparently has so much to say, watching him realize how outmatched he is in mere moments. The man bows his head and heads in the opposite direction of where the two of you are going, the hallway outside of the banquet room. 

“How can you let them talk to me like that?” He asks and you giggle, squeezing his arm. 

Your fingers don’t meet where they’re wrapped around it and heat rises in your face envisioning something else that your fingers don’t quite meet when they’re wrapped around, gaze dancing up Izuku’s body until they reach his face. Equal parts chiseled and boyish. Perfect. You hate even looking at him yet here you stand, sharing space and four of your five senses with him. 

The final sense, taste, will come later if the way you are looking at him has anything to do with it.

For now though, there is more important business to attend like the intense hunch of his shoulders and the line that is developing between his brows from all of this scowling. 

“They have the right to say what they’re thinking, Midoriya.” You finally speak now that you are released from the overheated hall, taking a deep breath of fresh cool air to calm your nerves and send that rising warmth in your body back to where it came from. “Being a pro hero doesn’t shield you from criticism, it only makes you less likely to hear it in the first place.” 

He chuckles and that heat you were attempting to will away returns in an instant, cheeks and chest and parts even lower aflame just at the sound of his voice. You shouldn’t even be humoring him, much less actively wanting him, silently scolding yourself to keep it professional despite his obvious attraction to you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want you, the woman beneath the carefully crafted facade you keep up.

“Yeah but it’s not very nice, is it? I didn’t call that guy a loser to his face and I should have.”

Snorting, you shake your head and glance up at him, those doe-like eyes blinking so prettily all he can do is match you. Open, close, open, close. Perfectly synced like your breaths. Easy, just as he seems to have found the coat closet, pushing the door open and pulling you in behind him. 

“I can’t force them to be nice to you. Remember, you volunteered to be here to represent all pro heroes, not just yourself.”

Izuku spins you so that you face him, chest pressed against his torso, face barely coming chin level to his massive pectorals. Your eyes dip to the exposed skin at his collar and you bite your lower lip without thinking, his hands sliding over your hips and ass, gently squeezing and massaging the flesh beneath your silk dress.

“Okay but how are you going to make it up to me?”

You roll your eyes and look up at him, letting your arms rest near his belt, taking your time undoing the buckle.

“Why do I need to make it up to you? As I said, you’re here voluntarily.”

He shrugs, his own lower lip tucked between his teeth momentarily while he watches you work, slowly sinking to a squat position with your heeled feet pressed together. Manicured fingers pull the zipper of his tuxedo pants down, his already half hard cock pressing against your cheek while you rub your face against it.

“Would this make you feel better?” You ask, glancing up at him with those same pretty eyes he fell for the first time he ever saw them in person. He nods once, gaze remaining locked on your elegant movements while your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers. The leaking tip of his cock springs free and you lean in to lick it tentatively, Izuku bracing himself against the row of luxury label coats behind him. 

For being an upstart, VOHSV sure has some wealthy donors. It’s a thought for another time though, his mind melting out of his ears while your tongue dances around the underside of the head of his dick, a whimper escaping him.

“Quiet or you get nothing,” you mumble around the salty taste of his skin. 

All he does is nod and purses his lips, pressing one large palm over the bottom half of his face.

[thedarkroomscene]

Pleasure, Little Treasure – Join Mix – 4:50

Written by Martin L. Gore. Produced by Depeche Mode and Dave Bascombe at Konk Studios, London. Engineered by Dave Bascombe. Remixed by John Fryer and Paul Kendall. First appeared on Never Let Me Down Again L12" and CD released on 24 August 1987. (#169)

[literallyangelshaw]

Ur cool, here have some random facts abt my Listener OCs

Hera(Angel) has an overbite when he smiles

Rose(Sunshine) has a small heart shape birthmark on the back of her shoulder

Sapphia(Freelancer) hates the feeling of fleece

Raven's(Baabe) favorite seasons r fall and winter

Latoya's(Sweetheart) hair is naturally black

Karma(Lovely) wears an obsidian crystal necklace, they never take it off. It was a gift from their twin for their birthday

Everest(Angel) was originally gonna b a man

Kendal(Baabe) hates the beach

Laila's(Sweetheart) design was inspired by Fluttershy

Navier(Sweetheart) is secretly obsessed with sanrio characters. Her favorite is My Melody.

Mel(Treasure) used to make animation memes in middle school

Frey(Warden) is partially color blind

Roxy(Baabe) is hearing impaired, she has hearing aids.

Milano's(Angel) favorite cookie is actually sugar cookies with sprinkles

Akira(Darlin') is chronically ill, she especially struggles with chronic fatigue.

Aria(Angel) is recovering from an eating disorder.

Verena (Bestie) has a detailed sleeve tattoo

Eimi (Sweetie) has an oral fixation, meaning they r always chewing something and Azmidi keeps gum on his person for her

Brooklyn (Dear) taught English to highschoolers at the start of their career

RJ (Darlin') loves graffiti-ing and has a stutter

Arcana (Angel) wanted to be a popstar in highschool

Ka1ja/Kaija's (Asset) vocal programming malfunctioned and she ended up with an accent

Vidalia (Freelancer) is nearsighted

[icegirl2772]

25

Song: If I Ruled the World by Big Time Rush

The continued success Big Time Rush enjoyed made Griffin decide to give them permission to use his beach house in Malibu again. This was something that surprised them all, because of the mishaps that occurred during their last visit - particularly due to Logan and Carlos' treasure-hunting adventures. (The fact they surrendered the treasure they found to the CEO as compensation and the band's success must have earned them his favour once more.)

This beach day turned out to be better than the last. Kendall didn't have to deal with any deranged fans jeopardizing his romantic relationship or get into races. James didn't wipe out surfing and spend the entire time wondering who saved him, only for his saviour to be by his side the entire time. Carlos and Logan decided to give treasure hunting a miss this time.

They all simply kicked off their shoes and had a good time at the beach. Dreaming of the day when they could enjoy this on a more regular basis with their own beach house. Ruling the little world they had built for themselves.

[myloveforhergoeson]

junk (for one word prompts)

katie was missing her sunglasses - an essential accessory if she were interested in pulling off her latest scheme while her mother was off grocery shopping. what kind of club bouncer didn't wear sunglasses? at least, all the ones she saw on tv did.

if she wanted to section off most of the pool area to create and exclusive VIP lounge for the palm woods residents, and charge 20 dollars per lounge chair, the uniform was a necessity.

but, she couldn't remember where she had left them, which was her biggest issue at present.

turning the master bedroom she and her mother shared upside down had yielded no results, and she was too afraid of what monstrosities she might find in her teenage roommate's rooms to see if maybe her shades had gotten mixed in with some of their stuff on accident.

so, she turned to the last place she could think of. the blackest of all black holes: the kitchen junk drawer. anything in the knight household small enough to fit in the large drawer was often swept in there during jennifer's cleaning sprees. it contained treasures unknown for years, until someone was brave enough to search the endless amount of stuff packed into that little space.

upon sliding the wooden cabinet open, katie found all the typical small items she was expecting - rubber bands, paper clips, a lighter - mixed in with a handful of take out menus from the best places to eat in LA. a few receipts leapt out at her as she stuck her hand in, all the way to the bottom, and shoved everything to the right, mixing it up in some kind of messed up amalgamation to see if her sunglasses were hiding down below.

nope.

so she shoved everything to the left, then to the top of the drawer, then to the bottom.

nope.

while she wasn't having any luck finding what she was looking for, a small corner of something plastic poked her finger. with a small grunt, she pulled a polaroid picture out from one of the menus.

a photo of her and kendall from her first soccer tournament shone back at her. hair tied back in a pony tail, second place trophy in her hands, she beamed at the camera, smile nearly blinding.

katie was on her brother's shoulders, and he looked up at her, hands encircling her tiny ankles, with so much pride in his eyes.

how embarassing, she told herself, studying the image for a few more seconds, before her vision shifted back to the drawer, and she spotted her black shades by a pad of sticky notes.

-

when jennifer returned from the grocery store, she was anxious to get the frozen foods into the freezer as quickly as she could before they melted in the los angeles heat. her mission was interrupted as her hand reached for the freezer handle on the left side of the fridge, and she noticed a photo of her children she hadn't seen in ages taped up on the see-through door.

oh... that's where that went.

[shesnake]

succession characters at westworld:

roman: wouldn't even get on the train to sweetwater. would spend ages in the cowboy dress-up rooms and then fuck around at the mesa hotel drinking by the pool waiting for everyone to get back

tom: does all the super easy low level bounty and treasure hunts no more than a day's ride from sweetwater. he keeps going "look, honey! the sheriff said I did a good job!" but

shiv: is busy fucking every single guy she possibly can in front of tom. she occasionally kills the ones who look like him just because she can.

kendall: rides all the way out to pariah on his own so he can have some gay sex in PEACE

stewy: fucking logan delos' brains out

[ibetonlosingroys]

Invisible String

Part 1/2

Roman Roy/Reader

You attend your boyfriend's brother's wedding.

For everyone who just wanted Roman to get one single hug at Connor's wedding.

Spoilers for S04E03 Connor’s Wedding

Read on ao3:

You stand by a floor to ceiling window, sipping on a champagne flute, wary not to drink so much you get drunk, not yet at least. By the time you hit the dance floor at the reception though, you plan on being nice and tipsy. You and Roman have a tendency to draw some attention at these events but you treasure the moments with the two of you, in front of the whole world, displaying how much you love the man you are with for everyone to see. Neither of you can really dance, but the champagne helps.

You scan the modest crowd for him as you nod politely at the discussion of table settings that Willa’s mother has wrapped you into for the past several minutes, but Roman is still nowhere to be found, having slipped off to a private room with his siblings to handle business matters. At their brother’s wedding. Because of course. Roman has kept you in the loop as best as he is able, and while he assures you repeatedly that their plan is a good one and will put them in the best position, you can’t help the tug in your heart you feel watching him slip once again into this deranged cat and mouse game with his father. You realized quickly it was naive to think he would take the sale as an opportunity to get out for good, and while it has been heartening, if not a bit foreign, to see him fall into step with his siblings in such a unified way, you’re troubled by the stress lines you can see forming on his face before he even opens his eyes in the morning. Maybe it’s time for a vacation. Not a Roy family mind fuck on a yacht, a real, honest to god vacation where you lay in the sun and don’t speak of the stock market or ATTN or Lukas Mattson.

Your daydreaming is cut off sharply when you spot Kendall and Shiv out of the corner of your eye. Exhaling deeply and subtly craning your neck, you search for a trace of your boyfriend, more than ready for him to rescue you from this conversation. However, he isn’t trailing behind like you expected him to be, he isn’t anywhere you can see. Your eyes flick back and forth as you try not to draw any unnecessary attention to whatever scheme may be in motion, but all you can see is Kendall and Shiv, hands clasped as they make a beeline for Connor. Without Roman.

Heat rushes to your ears and finally, you find enough of a break in conversation to excuse yourself, refreshing your drink in an effort to keep this flood of panic at bay. In an instant, you are back in that castle in Italy, watching helplessly as Roman falls apart in a way you didn’t think he was capable of. Your world shattered right alongside him and from that moment on you swore to yourself you’d do everything in your power to prevent anything from hurting him like that again. Judging by the stricken looks on Kendall and Shiv’s faces as they discreetly usher Connor towards the back room, you may have already failed to make good on that promise. You find yourself wondering what more Logan could have possibly done. Hasn’t he betrayed them enough, wounded them enough for several lifetimes without heaping on whatever emotionally violent corporate move he’s made now to put that look back on his kids’ faces.

Your instinct is to follow them, every muscle in your body taught, screaming at you to run to Roman. You want to scoop him up and take him away from whatever horrors he’s enduring in that room. But you also know Roman, better than most, and you know that what he likely needs most of all right now is his siblings in that room with him. You have the sense that this is not a moment for you to bust up, that when Roman needs you, you will know. So you do what you think will help him the most, you play the part. You sip on your drink, you politely mill through the floor of people, exchanging pleasantries, all the while keeping one eye on that door that’s transformed into a looming monster in your mind. It’s become a pandora’s box really, as long as it stays shut, you can tell yourself that everything is fine and you’ve read too much into what will turn out to be a very insignificant moment in time. Comforted slightly by this new narrative, you make your way back to the drink table, depositing your empty glass and contemplating your next course of action when you’re interrupted by a hand on the small of your back. Breathing a shallow sigh of relief, you turn, prepared to laugh with your boyfriend about how skilled your mind is at playing tricks on you, but instead you are met with his brother.

“Ken?” you try experimentally, the blood in your veins having run cold. There is a sheen of sweat on his brow, snot pooled under his nose as he looks at you carefully with a tight lipped expression. Wordlessly, he begins leading you by the arm towards the private room, and you are crushed with the understanding that, in no uncertain terms, this is really bad. Once out of earshot of most of the partygoers, you try again, “Is he okay?” No response, but you feel the hand on your forearm tremble a bit. “What happened?” Kendall stops with one hand on the door, looking quickly to ensure no one else had made their way up the stairs before clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah, so,” he casts his eyes skyward before continuing, “Dad is dead.” It’s like the floor has dropped out from under you. You were prepared for any combination of business jargon word salad as he explained the new way Logan had fucked them, but not this. “My God, Kendall,” your hands fly to his shoulders in a vain attempt at comfort, “I-I’m so sorry.” Your mind is swirling with questions and exclamations and pure shock, but it is all you can think to say. He nods, patting the back of your hand with his and sniffles in acknowledgement. “I just think that he needs you, or will need you,” he nods in the direction of the room and you ferociously bite back the tremble in your voice, “Of course, I’m here.” You hope you sound steadier than you feel.

Kendall’s hand turns on the door handle, and your mind is overwhelmed with one repeated thought, like a sick mantra, “He can’t handle this.” Entering the room, your eyes lock on Roman immediately, slumped, sitting cross legged on the floor. A thick veil of grief and disbelief cloaks the room, suffocating, making you almost choke on your words as you offer condolences to Connor with a quick squeeze of the shoulder, and to Shiv with an embrace. You feel slightly out of place, enveloped in this moment that does not belong to you so you quickly make your way to Roman’s side, a place where you are always meant to be. He doesn’t look at you, you can’t see if he’s been crying or any way his features may be contorted, but you instantly feel his fingers tug on the hem of your dress, rubbing the fabric back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Your throat is dry and your mind runs a mile a minute, not just with the question of what to say to the man you love when his father dies, but with the question of what to say when that father is Logan Roy. You settle on, “Hi, you,” and there he is. His eyes travel up to yours, cold and guarded, but wide, and so so scared. “Can I sit?” you ask, and he nods stiffly before you slide down to join him, grasping his clammy, shaky hand in your own.

Roman’s eyes are dry as he surveys the room, finding his siblings wrapped up in their own conversation and his voice trembles, “I-I can’t,” he stammers, unable to find the words. “I know,” you assure him. “I don’t think I told him I loved him,” he gulps, chest rising and falling rapidly as he runs a hand through his hair. “Rome.” you bring your palm to his face, waiting for his eyes to settle on yours before continuing, “You loved him.” There may be a lot about Roman’s relationship with his father that didn’t make sense to you, but this you are sure of with absolute certainty. “What do you need?” you ask, rubbing a slow circle on his cheek with your thumb. He recoils then, clambering to his feet as his focus darts around the room. “I don’t need anything. This isn’t anything, this is - fuck! Nothing’s happened and we don’t know anything so this is all…” he trails off, waving his hands wildly and capturing the attention of his siblings who turned their focus on him.

“Roman,” Kendall approaches him as you would a spooked animal, “We know,” he starts, seemingly expecting the response he gets. “Fuck you! Come on, this is insane!” Roman raises his voice, “This doesn’t happen!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking for someone to back him up. Instead, Shiv approaches him too. “I think it happened though, Rome,” her voice is gentle, and holds a lost quality you are not accustomed to hearing from her. “Shiobhan,” his attempt to mock her falls flat and he spins wildly towards Connor. “And don’t look at me with your fucking sad eyes, fuck!” he exclaims before marching to the far window and pressing his forehead to the glass. “My eyes are sad,” Connor offers, matter of factly from across the room. You take in the three of them standing there in that moment, looking unmoored and far younger than when they first entered this room. These are the Roy children without Logan to orbit, and they are looking to you expectantly to keep the fourth one from spinning out.

“He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this. He can’t handle this,” the mantra continues, louder and louder in your head with each step you take towards Roman, silenced only when you place a firm hand on his back. He’s sucking in his upper lip and avoiding your gaze, telltale Roman signs that he is fighting back tears. “You know,” you begin, soft enough that no one else in the room will hear, “you are allowed to cry if you want to.” He blinks but doesn’t immediately shut the conversation down, emboldening you to keep going. “This is actually like The time to cry if you really think about it. Someone would have to be a special kind of fucked up to say shit to you right now.” There it is, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips and he whispers, “Hot.”

[izvmimi]

Is there any grander display of affection than being passed a slice of fruit cut by the hands of the person beside you?

It doesn’t behoove you to think this way about Luffy often as prone to overthinking as you are. But, it’s also undeniable that every move he makes when it comes to you is steeped with affection. Whether it’s calling out to you across the deck just to talk or sidling up to you while you finish your dinner, he’s not far from where you are if he can help it. 

Today he passes you a slice of something with a soft, creamy center. It’s a fruit native to the island you just left but you’re a little puzzled as to why he’s offering you something you’ve eaten easily a dozen of yourself.

“Take it before it oozes all over my hand,” he barks with a laugh. You scramble to reach out for the fruit, wrinkling your nose when the center oozes out into your palm instead. 

With a dramatic sigh, he snaps the fruit away and turns to face you. His shoulders and chest loom over you and he leans in with a grin, using his free hand to tap just beneath your chin.

“I’ll just feed it to you so you won’t get dirty.”

Incredulously, you giggle and shake your head but he makes no move to indicate that he’s joking. You lean away from him and he sighs again, finally popping the fruit into his own mouth and chewing it in a nearly comically short amount of time. 

“What are you do–” 

Before you can finish your thought, Luffy’s sweet tasting tongue brushes over the top of yours. He attempts to mask a pleasured throaty groan with a less salacious and high pitched hum, the same he makes after he eats something particularly tasty. Giggling against his mouth, you break the kiss and open your eyes to find him already staring at you with a visible flush across the bridge of his nose. 

“Me or the fruit?”

Your question is more tempting than you may realize. The soft brown eyes, thickly lashed and honestly pretty despite their owner’s insistence that pretty isn’t for Pirate Kings, gaze down into yours and a smirk plays across that wise mouth. You feel it first and see it second, eyes once again flicking between his and your mouths that are almost touching.

“Might need a second taste to decide for sure,” he mouths, lips brushing against the seam of yours like he cannot bear to be apart from them for a single breath more. 

His eager, curious tongue slips between your teeth and he doesn’t bother to stifle his groan this time. Wide palms cup your waist briefly but he wastes no time sliding them from the dip of your waist, the one that silhouettes every single thought he has about you, to your ribs and just beneath your breasts. Luffy’s thumbs rub against the soft underside of them from over your tank top, adventurously stretching the digit as far as he can reach to rub the pad of it over your hardened nipple. 

Reaching up to grab his wrist to stop him, he meets you halfway and tangles your fingers between his. His eyes open, meeting yours that are blown wide and fixed on him. 

“After the second taste I have to say it’s you.” 

He smacks his lips together, making a show of dragging the tip of his tongue over the corner where a bit of your saliva lingered. 

“Yup, definitely you.”

…………………………….

[izvmimi]

pls 'get out of the damn lava' i'm crying

man does his voice ever get high pitched when he's really mad or is he just normal

the first time you get on voice chat with gen he lowers his voice register and tries to sound as sexy and detached as possible but then someone does something stupid in your party and he's roasting them in his regular voice

his voice slowly starts getting more and more incredulous and the mask slips completely when the person who has been told to get the fuck out of the lava remains in the lava and he’s like “so do you wake up every single morning and eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast or?”

ngl tho that’s even sexier to me HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA then he immediately clears his throat and puts his fake voice back on 😭😭😭

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

black is the color

dedicated to the incomparable miss kendall over at @strawberrystepmom, our goddess of love here at tumblr dot com and the number one culprit for my geto brainrot.

the title for this one comes from an old Irish folk song of the same name- the full lyric (i couldn't make the whole thing look nice in canva) is 'black is the color of my true love's hair.'

songs i listened to while writing: the tatara woman work song from the Princess Mononoke soundtrack, and dance of the druids from the Outlander soundrack.

Pairing: Suguru Geto/Reader

WC: 1,312

Content warnings: fae trickery and bargaining, but that's about it. at this point i feel like Geto is his own content warning, so keep that in mind.

Journeying as far as you do into the woods is a risk. The grandmothers of your village always cluck their tongues at you when you set out, telling you that this is the time that one of the fair folk is going to steal you away. You nod and smile, and tell the grandmothers that you won’t go so far this time.

But you do.

Every time.

Perhaps it’s foolish to venture so far into the woods, but you never venture that deep unprepared. There is always an ash wood arrow tucked into your quiver, and your wrists and throat are adorned with cuffs of hammered iron. You know not to accept bargains from anyone you meet in the woods, not to eat anything offered to you, and most importantly, to not give anyone your name. 

Perhaps your efforts to prepare have made you overly confident, too comfortable in lands not your own. Whatever the reason, when you stumble across a beautiful lake deep into the woods several days into an expedition, you hesitate for only a moment before dropping your equipment at the shore and walking into the crystal clear waters.  

The water is the perfect temperature, cool against your heated skin but not cold enough to make you shiver. You wade in until the water reaches your waist, before ducking your head under the surface to wash the travel dust off your face. 

You’re enjoying the feel of the water in the lazy afternoon heat when you hear a voice from the bank behind you- low, rich, and powerful. 

“What is this? A nymph that I do not know has wandered into my private bathing pool.”

You turn around slowly. Standing on the shore of the lake, near your small pile of belongings, is a man so beautiful it almost hurts to look at him. His features are fine, honed like a knife’s edge, with eyes as dark as the moonless night. His hair is long, cascading over his shoulders like a waterfall of ink as black as a raven’s wing. As you stare, it almost looks like there are onyx feathers shimmering in the mass of black. 

He chuckles under your scrutiny, snapping you back to the present. The slide of his midnight eyes over you reminds you that you are clad only in your chemise, which is soaked through and clinging to every curve of your body. 

“My apologies for intruding. I’ll dress and be on my way.” You begin to wade out of the pool, heading towards your pack on the shore. Your instincts are telling you to stay away from the strange man, but he stands near your only means of defending yourself. You’ll be better protected as soon as you can grab your iron. 

You take your eyes off the man for just a moment, reaching for your pack and the iron jewelry in it. Before you can close the gap, a hand grasps your chin, gently but firmly pulling you up to meet the man’s eyes again. His fingers are elegant, and just slightly too long. 

“You’re not intruding,” he purrs, his eerily beautiful face coming close as he leans down to inspect your features. “Unexpected, but I would be a fool to turn away such a treasure who has wandered into my home.” 

Now that you’re almost nose to nose with the stranger, you can see that his dark eyes shine with the glimmer of stars, miniscule pricks of light shimmering in the blackness. The elegant swoop of his nose draws your attention to the perfect cupid’s bow of his mouth, lips full and lush against his alabaster skin. A crown sits on his brow, silver pressed in perfect reliefs of rowan leaves that seem to move in the gentle breeze that blows across the lake. The soft wind sends the tiny bells in the crown chiming, filling the glade with their sweet music. 

Carefully, as to not offer insult, you pull away from the strange man. He lets you go, watching with a curl of amusement on his full lips as you gather your things. You see a flicker of interest cross his face when you use a charm to dry yourself before pulling on your overdress.

“Can I not tempt you to stay?” he waves his hand and a table appears, laden with sweet fruit. “Come, you must be hungry after your journey.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t stay, my grandmother is waiting for me.” 

“If there’s someone waiting for you, I can offer you a steed so that you may reach them faster.” With another wave of his hand, a beautiful horse rises from the lake, clear as the waters it steps out from and shining like crystal in the dappled sunlight.

“Your offer is very generous, but I’m afraid I can’t accept. I don’t know if I could find my way back to this place to return it.” 

“If you would give me your name, I could find you after you’ve returned home and collect it from you.” 

“If we are to make introductions, I would be honored to know the name of my gracious host.” 

He throws his head back and laughs at your words. “My, you are a clever one. You come to my grove, reeking of iron and ashwood, and have been a most entertaining dance partner for this negotiation. But let me tell you something you don’t know, my treasure.” He glides across the bank, crowding into your space again and forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. “You have trespassed on my private lands, and taken a bath in my private pool. According to our laws, which you must abide by while you are on our land, if something is taken something must be given in return.”

The stars in his eyes twinkle at you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. “Don’t worry, my treasure. I won’t claim anything from you that you’ll miss. I simply ask for a favor, to be collected at a time and place of my choosing.” 

“What will this favor entail?” you look up at him, trying to disguise your incredulity. 

“That is for me to know and you to find out, my treasure.” He pouts at your expression. “Now now, don’t be like that. I could ask for one of your eyes, or seven years of your life, as would be within my rights. A simple favor is a small thing to grant.” 

You take a few steps back, trying to regain some personal space. You throw up your hands between the two of you, trying to placate him. “Alright, I agree. A favor, at the time and place of your choosing.”

He reaches out and wraps his graceful fingers around one of your wrists. “That’s the spirit,” he murmurs. He brings your hand up to his lips, meeting your eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “Farewell for now, my treasure. I look forward to our next meeting.”

A tingle starts from the place his lips touch on your hand and spreads through your entire body. As you watch, his body explodes in a cloud of rowan leaves and raven feathers, and as he disappears, so does the lake, leaving you standing alone in a small grove of trees, at the center of a circle of mushrooms.

You rub the back of your hand, the skin there still prickling. A dark mark catches your attention; at first glance it looks to just be a beauty mark, but upon closer inspection you notice that it is made of tiny concentric rings of text in a language you can’t read. 

The sign of a faerie bargain. 

It seems you will see that strange man again, and only time will tell what price he will come to collect.

[artistrichardhfay]

Article: "Merfolk: Sea People of Folklore and Legend"

Featured in the lore of many human cultures, merfolk were said to be people of the sea, although some resided in freshwater. In their most usual form, these beings appeared humanoid from the waist up and pisciform from the waist down. However, some chronicles and tales presented variations from this standard. At times hostile, at other times helpful, merfolk interacted with land-dwellers in various ways. Certain stories even spoke of marriages between merfolk and mortals, unions that could produce lines of human descendants. With potential links to ancient gods, goddesses, and monsters, merfolk have been a fixture of human legends for ages, but some accounts suggest that they are more than mere creatures of legend. Surprisingly enough, various historical records describe actual encounters with these aquatic entities, According to some reports, such encounters have even persisted to the present day.

The origins of merfolk lore might be as murky and difficult to plumb as the ocean depths themselves, but possible precursors to the merfolk of later chronicles and tales may be found in ancient myths and legends. Oannes, god of wisdom who granted the ancient Babylonians the gift of culture, appeared as a human-fish hybrid (Sykes & Kendall, 1993). The Philistine god Dagon and the Syrian goddess Atargatis were also depicted as prototypical merfolk (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). Mythographer Robert Graves traced a connection between mermaids and sea-born goddesses Aphrodite and Marian (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). The Greek scholars Nicholas Polites and Stilpon Kyriakides argued that the mermaid of modern Greek lore, the gorgona, shares features with the siren of Classical Greek myth (Simpson, 1987). Notwithstanding the fact that medieval authors did conflate the sailor-luring siren of ancient lore with the northern mermaid, Classical depictions portrayed the siren not as half-woman, half-fish, but as a monster that possessed a woman’s head and torso atop a bird’s body (Rose, 2000).

Although the true nature of alleged links between ancient gods and merfolk of later times may be doubtful, there is no doubt that such beings feature in folklore and legends around the world, from Ireland to New Ireland, New Guinea. The usually peaceful Irish merfolk known as merrows wore magical red caps that allowed them to shape-shift and travel back-and-forth between their undersea realm and dry land (Rose, 1996). The Manx mermaid ben varrey exhibited two conflicting natures, one a benevolent finder of treasure, the other a malevolent enchanter of men (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). The handsome Danish merman havmand treated those mortals he encountered with kindliness, while his female counterpart havfrue could be either helpful or harmful (Rose, 1996). Like the sirens of ancient myth, the alluring Swedish mermaids called sjörå entranced boatmen at sea and destroyed both mortals and their vessels (Marriott, 2006). The cannibalistic mermaids of Portuguese tales went one step further and devoured those lured into their watery abode (Marriott, 2006). The far more benevolent ningyo of Japanese lore brought peace and dispelled bad luck (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). Clad in cowrie-shell jewelry, the bonito maidens of the Solomon Islands acted as caretakers of both bonito fish and lost ivory fishing hooks (Rose, 1996). The singing ri of New Ireland tradition resided among the mangroves and along the strand (Rose, 2000). On the east coast of Canada, the halfway people of Micmac legends alerted courteous fishermen of impending storms (Rose, 2000).

Merfolk through the ages and across the globe have traditionally appeared as humanoids with fishy tails, exemplified by the beautiful-but-deadly comb-and-mirror-wielding sea maiden of the English folk song “The Mermaid” (Briggs, 1978), but there are variations to this tradition. The 1st century author Pliny described mermaids as being completely scaly head-to-tail (Rosen, 2008). The medieval Irish Annals of the Four Masters told of a truly monstrous mermaid said to have measured a whopping 160 feet long (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). Another oversized mercreature featured in a report made to Bishop Pontoppidan of Bergen in 1719 that described a human-faced seal-like beast 28 feet long (Rose, 2000). Male merrows appeared downright hideous in aspect, possessing green-coloured hair, teeth, and skin, pointed red noses, and piggy eyes (Rose, 2000). On occasion, the Danish havmand was said to have had blue skin (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). Instead of looking like a human woman from the waist up, the Japanese ningyo could appear as a huge fish with a woman’s head (Rose, 2000).

Along with the varying physical descriptions of merfolk, different human cultures expressed different views regarding what merfolk symbolised. In medieval Europe, mermaids represented deceit and were believed to be in league with the Great Deceiver himself, the devil (Rose, 2000). Additionally, the medieval church considered mermaids to be symbols of vanity, lust, and the soul-endangering aspects of femininity and sex (Rosen, 2008). In Tudor times, the word “mermaid” became synonymous with the word “prostitute” (Franklin, 2002). Conversely, the Afro-Brazillian Batuque cult saw their aquatic jamaína and imanja as intermediaries between mortals and angels (Rose, 1996). The Japanese thought of their ningyo as a positive entity, a protector of the land (Matthews & Matthews, 2005).

As has been touched upon above, merfolk in various locales and circumstances sometimes dealt with land-dwelling mortals in a less-than-beneficial, or even outright malevolent, fashion. The otherwise friendly male merrow named Coomara captured the souls of drowned sailors in cages in the mistaken belief that he was performing a good deed sheltering the souls and keeping them warm and dry (Croker, 1882). Mermen of a more baleful nature were believed to conjure terrible storms and sink ships (Rose, 2000). At times, the female of the species also acted in a destructive manner; the subject of the folk song “The Mermaid” sent a ship of doomed souls to the bottom of the ocean (Briggs, 1978). The Norwegian havfine herded the waves and wrecked vessels foolish enough to be caught asea when storms rolled in (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). The Scottish lake-dwelling mermaid encountered by the youthful Laird of Lorntie proved to be a downright bloodthirsty creature that would have feasted on the young laird’s blood had his loyal servant not pulled him from the loch’s waters (Briggs, 1979).

Of course, not all merfolk treated humans poorly; some had favourable and even intimate dealings with humankind. According to Danish lore, a prophesying havfrue foresaw the birth of Christian IV of Denmark (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). In one Scottish story, a young man learned how to cure his ailing love with an infusion of mugwort when a mermaid surfaced and sang of using the herb to prevent the girl’s death by consumption (Briggs, 1978). A mermaid that rose from a Renfrewshire pool as a funeral procession crossed a stream advised the mourners how to use both mugwort and nettle to ward off fatal illness (Briggs, 1978). In the tale “The Old Man of Cury”, a stranded mermaid rescued by an old man granted her saviour the gift of healing (Briggs, 1978). The title mortal of “Lutey and the Mermaid” was rewarded with similar benefits when he aided a mermaid, but found himself lured into her watery abode nine years later (Briggs, 1978). Along with knowledge of healing herbs, rescued mermaids could also warn of impending storms (Rose, 1996). On occasion, female merrows wedded mortal men and gave rise to a line of human descendants who possessed webbed fingers and scaly legs (Briggs, 1979). A mermaid was said to number among the ancestors of the McVeagh clan of Scotland (Franklin, 2002).

Apart from marriages and other relations between merfolk and mortals, some stories told of humans transformed into sea people. According to a popular Greek legend, Alexander the Great’s sister Thessalonike turned into a mermaid when, grief-stricken by the death of her conquering sibling, she attempted suicide by throwing herself into the Aegean Sea (DocumentaryMakedonia, 2013). Lí Ban, the pagan subject of a 12th or 13th century Irish tale, underwent a magical metamorphosis from human woman to mermaid after the majority of her kin were drowned in a flood (Ó hÓgáin, 2006). According to a certain Irish legend, pagan crones became mermaids when Saint Patrick expelled them from the land (Franklin, 2002). In the Samish story of Ko-kwal-alwoot, a maiden became enamoured with a merman who insisted on taking her as his bride and who eventually transformed her into a sea-dweller like himself (Matthews & Matthews, 2005).

Beyond the myths, legends, and folktales about merfolk told over the centuries by many different storytellers around the globe, sailors and fishermen across the ages have reported real-life sightings of fishy-tailed humanoids. Christopher Columbus wrote that he spied three less-than-lovely mermaids off the coast of what is now the Dominican Republic in January 1493 (Salaperäinen, 2016). In 1560, the bodies of several mermaids netted off the coast of Ceylon underwent dissection at the hands of a learned physician who concluded that, externally and internally, the anatomy of the merbeings resembled that of humans (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). Henry Hudson recorded that two of his crewmen spotted a white-skinned black-haired mermaid in 1608 (Cohen, 1982). In 1723, a Danish Royal Commission tasked with proving that merfolk existed only in myths and legends ended up running across an actual merman near the Faroe Isles (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). In 1830, residents of the isle of Benbecula in the Hebrides found the body of a small dark-haired white-skinned mermaid with “abnormally developed breasts”, perhaps the same creature that had been seen and injured at Sgeir na Duchadh a few days earlier, washed ashore at Culle Bay (Munro, 2016). Three years later, natural history professor Dr. Robert Hamilton described the capture of a short-haired monkey-faced mermaid offshore of Yell in the Shetland Isles (Munro, 2016). During a few notable summers around 1890, hundreds of eyewitnesses claimed to have seen the so-called Deerness Mermaid, a black-headed white-bodied creature that appeared like a human when swimming in the waters of Newark Bay, Orkney (Towrie, n.d.).

Believe it or not, in certain regions of the world sightings of and belief in merbeings have persisted right up to the present day. In 1947, an elderly Hebridean fisherman reported sighting a mermaid combing her hair near the shore of the Isle of Muck (Matthews & Matthews, 2005). In June 1967, passengers aboard a ferry travelling past Mayne Island, British Columbia, observed (and one snapped a photograph of) a blonde-haired dimple-faced mermaid with the tail of a fish or porpoise sitting upon a shoreside rock (Obee, 2016). In January 2008, several South Africans who had been relaxing near the bank of the Buffelsjags River at Suurbraak claimed they encountered a river-dwelling mermaid with white skin, black hair, and hypnotic red eyes known locally as the Kaaiman (Pekeur, 2008). In 2009, dozens of eyewitnesses caught sight of a mermaid porpoising and performing aerial acrobatics off the beach of Kiryat Yam, Israel (“Is a Mermaid”, 2009). As recently as 2012, workers at a dam in northern Zimbabwe insisted that mermaids were to blame for mysterious malfunctions and refused to continue their work until the harassing entities were appeased with a traditional beer ritual (Conway-Smith, 2012).

Merfolk number among the most widespread of legendary beings. Diverse cultures around the world have told stories of aquatic humanoid beings with piscine tails. Tales handed down from generation to generation attest to mankind’s relations with merfolk, for good or ill, throughout the ages. Perhaps such lore is merely the product of human imagination, but what are we to make of reports of actual sightings? Historic and more recent claims of seeing mermaids or mermen could be chalked up to mirages, misidentifications, hoaxes, or even mass hysteria. For instance, Columbus might have spied a trio of manatees. Witnesses who saw a mermaid on Mayne Island may have actually seen a human girl posing with a fake mermaid’s tail. Men who refused to continue work on a dam in Zimbabwe due to interference from mermaids might have fallen victim to mass hysteria. Whatever the truth of the matter, belief in merfolk has endured over time and continues to endure, in some locales, to this day. Regardless of the reality, merfolk continue to have a place in the hearts, minds, and imaginations of their land-dwelling mortal counterparts.

References

Briggs, K. (1978). The vanishing people: fairy lore and legend. New York, NY: Pantheon Books.

Briggs, K. (1979). Abbey lubbers, banshees, and boggarts: an illustrated encyclopedia of fairies. New York, NY: Pantheon Book.

Cohen. D. (1982). The encyclopedia of monsters. New York, NY: Dodd, Mead & Company.

Conway-Smith, E. (2012, February 12). "Zimbabwe mermaids appeased by traditional beer ritual". PRI. Retrieved from https://www.pri.org.

Croker, T. C. (1882/2008). Irish fairy legends. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications.

DocumentaryMakedonia. (2013. May 24). The legend of Thessalonike, a mermaid who lived in the Aegean sea [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHSOj...

Franklin, A. (2002). The illustrated encyclopedia of fairies. London, England: Collins & Brown.

"Is a mermaid living under the sea in northern Israel?" (2009, August 12). Haaretz. Retrieved from https://www.haaretz.com.

Marriott, S. (2006). The ultimate fairies handbook. London, England: Octopus Publishing Group.

Matthews, J., & Matthews, C. (2005). The element encyclopedia of magical creatures. London, England: HarperElement.

Munro, A. (2016, March 16, updated March 17). "The myth of the Hebridean mermaid". The Scotsman. Retrieved from https://www.scotsman.com

Obee, D. (2016, January 8). "Dave Obee: mermaid had no legs, but story does". Times Colonist. Retrieved from https://www.timescolonist.com/

Ó hÓgáin, D. (2006). The lore of Ireland: An encyclopaedia of myth, legend and romance. Woodbridge, England: The Boydell Press.

Pekeur, A. (2008, January 16). "Mysterious ‘mermaid’ rises from the river". IOL. Retrieved from https://www.iol.co.za.

Rose, C. (1996). Spirits, fairies, leprechauns, and goblins: an encyclopedia. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company.

Rose, C. (2000). Giants, monsters, and dragons: an encyclopedia of folklore, legend, and myth. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company.

Rosen, B. (2008). The mythical creatures bible. London, England: Octopus Publishing Group.

Salaperäinen, O. (2016). A field guide to fantastical beasts. New York, NY: Metro Books.

Simpson, J. (1987). European mythology (library of the world’s myths and legends). New York, NY: Peter Bedrick Books.

Sykes, E., & Kendall, A. (1952/1993). Who’s who in non-classical mythology (Rev. Ed.). New York, NY: Oxford University Press.

Towrie, S. (n.d.). "Monsters of the deep: mermaid accounts and sightings". In Orkneyjar: The Heritage of the Orkney Islands. Retrieved from http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/mer...

(Article originally published Jan 5, 2020, in Altered Reality Magazine)

[romulussy]

this is really random but i find it so funny that kendall's middle name is logan and connors isnt. like it's usually the firstborn that gets to be the namesake right? lmao. tbf maybe connors mom got to pick it out

one of my most treasured headcanons is that connor just doesn’t have one. logan gives kendall ‘logan’ and shiv ‘rose’ and roman gets some bullshit handed down to him from lady caroline alexandra helena st. john collingwood. it's even part of my damn roman wip that shall remain forever unfinished

He’s born Roman Christopher Collingwood Roy, the first name handpicked by Logan, the next two courtesy of Caroline. (To even the playing field, she tells him, when he’s nine years old and annoyed at how long it takes to write. Your father tainted Kendall, so I got to taint you. It’s only fair, darling.) 

[koushuwu]

happy Valentine’s Day my treasure!!!!! you are such a bright presence and I love you and the kindness you exude without trying and your wit and your everything. Hope you get all the love u deserve on vday but in the meantime here’s a little from me 😙😙😙

kendall. kendall, please. please. you are so damned precious, and i just want to cradle you in my hands and kiss you on the forehead. i will tell you that i saw this the moment you sent it, and spent the next ten minutes blushing and smiling before i could gather myself enough to think of a reply. you always know just how to make someone feel special and seen, and i want you to know that i have a lot of love in my heart for you 💖 i love you, and i love everything that you stand for and that you put out into this world. you are a one in a million! happy valentine’s day, my love 💕

also, i got you a card 👉👈😚

[healerqueen]

50 Favorite Children’s Books

Inspired by Studio Ghibli director Hayao Miyazaki’s list of his earliest literary influences. This list is limited to books I read in childhood or youth. 50 Childhood Favorites

Caddie Woodlawn and sequel by Carol Ryrie Brink

Winter Cottage by Carol Ryrie Brink

The Saturdays, The Four-Story Mistake, and sequels by Elizabeth Enright

Enemy Brothers by Constance Savery

The Reb and the Redcoats by Constance Savery

Carry On, Mr. Bowditch by Jean Lee Latham

Derwood, Inc. by Jeri Massi

A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Heidi by Joanna Spyri

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Understood Betsy by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

The Wheel on the School by Meindert De Jong

All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor

Family Grandstand by Carol Ryrie Brink

Baby Island by Carol Ryrie Brink

Cheaper By the Dozen and sequel by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth Carey

Rebecca’s War by Ann Finlayson

The Lost Baron by Allen French

Snow Treasure by Marie McSwigan

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

The Winged Watchman by Hilda Van Stockum

A Single Shard by Linda Sue Park

By the Great Horn Spoon by Sid Fleischman

Captive Treasure by Milly Howard

Toliver’s Secret by Esther Wood Brady

Silver for General Washington by Enid LaMonte Meadowcroft

Emil’s Pranks by Astrid Lindgren

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien

Hitty: Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field

Twenty-One Balloons by William Pene du Bois

Freddy the Detective and Freddy the Pig series by Walter R. Brooks

The Cricket in Times Square by George Selden

Mr. Popper’s Penguins by Robert Lawson

Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White

The Borrowers by Mary Norton

The Wombles by Elisabeth Beresford

Homer Price by Robert McCloskey

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne

Sir Cumference and the Dragon of Pi by Cindy Neuschwander and Wayne Geehan

Tuesdays at the Castle by Jessica Day George

The Bridge and Crown and Jewel by Jeri Massi

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

The Gammage Cup by Carol Kendall

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart

The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau

Young Adult:

The Eagle of the Ninth and other books by Rosemary Sutcliff

The Bronze Bow by Elizabeth George Speare

The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

Ranger’s Apprentice by John Flanagan

Dragon Slippers by Jessica Day George

Buffalo Brenda by Jill Pinkwater

The Arrival by Shaun Tan

Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio by Peg Kehret (a nonfiction memoir)

Picture Books:

Make Way for Ducklings and other books by Robert McCloskey

Go, Dog, Go by P.D. Eastman

Sam and the Firefly by P.D. Eastman

Robert the Rose Horse by Joan Heilbroner

Ice-Cream Larry by Daniel Pinkwater

Mr. Putter and Tabby by Cynthia Rylant

Discovered as an Adult: Seesaw Girl by Linda Sue Park

The Ordinary Princess by M.M. Kaye

The Armourer’s House by Rosemary Sutcliff

Urchin of the Riding Stars and the Mistmantle Chronicles by M.I. McAllister

Princess Academy by Shannon Hale

Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes

Escape to West Berlin by Maurine F. Dahlberg

Listening for Lions by Gloria Whelan

The Angel on the Square by Gloria Whelan

Courage in Her Hands by Iris Noble

Knight’s Fee by Rosemary Sutcliff

Victory at Valmy (Thunder of Valmy) by Geoffrey Trease

Word to Caesar (Message to Hadrian) by Geoffrey Trease

The Letter for the King by Tonke Dragt

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

The Reluctant Godfather by Allison Tebo

Seventh City by Emily Hayse

Escape to Vindor by Emily Golus

Valiant by Sarah McGuire

The Secret Keepers by Trenton Lee Stewart

[wanou-dorm]

HSA OC - Kendall

Finally I don't Feel Guilty anymore about not using @fumikomiyasaki 's Raffle Prize , I'M FUCKING FREE THE weight I've Felt Is gone !! Now If Only I could just Get out of this creative rut I'm Thinking I might be reaching burnout.

Name: Kendall 

Based on: Knuckles from Sonic

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿: Male

𝗔𝗴𝗲: 20

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆: October 18th

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗶𝗴𝗻: Libra

𝗛𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁:  185 cm

𝗘𝘆𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: purple

𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗿: Red

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗦

𝗗𝗼𝗿𝗺:  Tetravania 

𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿: 3rd Year

𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀: 2-E

𝗢𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Student

𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯: Botany, Fighting Club 

𝗕𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁: Gym

Homeland:  Unknown he seems to be A long time friend of Soren 

Sexuality: Fluid 

.

𝗙𝗨𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗦:

𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱: Right 

𝗙𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱:  grapes

𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱: Most Fast food makes him sick

Likes:   Please Leave him alone, martial Arts, nature , Treasure Hunting , Quiet, Western films

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝘀: Any time people acknowledge he dose Care about Soren , Artificial Light , big Cities , Being Tricked , Erwin( Agrees with. Him on some of the Things Soren dose but not  everything), Roxanne go away 

𝗛𝗼𝗯𝗯𝘆:  Hangliding, Collecting Gemstones

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀: Parkour, Hangliding 

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬:

Kendall is A Pretty Stubborn, brash and Hot blooh, echidna Beastman , A Long Time Friends of Soren , who unlike Mark is not Easily influenced by Soren they kinda Balance out in a Way , that Still didn't Stop Soren Getting Expelled ,

Kendall Tried but failed to try Mediate between Erwin and Soren way before Thier Relationship got to that Critical point , they Both Didn't Listen To what he had to say , and if They did could've prevented the Crisis in the First place .In Kendall's Words.

Kendall is often Perceived in as Dumb ,He's not Really a Dumb Muscle head just Naive , due to being in an isolated Tribe His whole life so he's Often really gullible but dosent like When people Take advantage of that Gullibility… Besides Soren only because Of most of the time he's knows he's just Being Soren.

However Kendall's Biggest Fault is his Arrogance and being overly  Serious which he's Based on Knuckles it's as Funny as you think . 

Unique Magic

Powe Palm

 enhance his Already  Tremendous Strength. It almost Looks as if he has Super speed but it actually Just his Strength .

Trivia:

Modern Lingo and Slang are .. foreign to him . 

Soren Please stop teaching Kendall Modern Slang without telling this man where and How to use it.

Roxanne …. I'm so Sorry Kendall 

He can be A Meathead but only if he dosent Get something.

Has an older Sister based On Tikal

He doesn't not know  his own Strength he's Going to crush your Hands if you don't tell him to Watch it 

He doesn't doesn't understand Text Speak Soren is still  teaching him ..

Has Inosuke Syndrome , Pretty face Buff as hell body.

Voice claim:

Movie!Knuckles

Theme Song: Unknown From Me