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NagatoYukiChan on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/nagatoyukichan/art/The-Bane-of-Tennen-teaser-741300403NagatoYukiChan

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Chapter 14 - Chalsandra and Lapis

“Chalsandra?” I growled, my fur standing on end. “Leaf, is this bitch really your sister?” Needless to say, I was quite pissed at the situation. My new in-laws were just saved from a cage and this chick’s lightning hurts. “It is…” Leaf’s voice sounded as if he was lost. He looked between me and the older elf teen before speaking to her in the same defeated tone. “Chalsandra, what are you doing? Why are you here?” “And why the hell did you attack my family!” Reposa adds. An aura started to form around her, her anger growing alongside mine. “Oh, little brother… can’t a big sis just pop in to see how her favorite sibling is doing?” Chalsandra’s voice dripped with an condescending tone. I don’t think any of us believed this, even for a moment. That said, taking a quick look at Leaf, I wasn’t sure about him at the moment. Seeing his older sister seemed to have shaken him. I know he looks up to her, but to have her attack you and your friends, that would be hard on any family

Literature

Wind in the Willows the Mali Chronicles Sneak Peek

The spring sun glinted off the polished chrome of the canary-yellow roadster parked in the driveway of Jungle Manor. It was a machine built for speed, noise, and chaos—exactly the kind of vehicle that made the local constabulary wake up in a cold sweat.. Standing next to it, admiring her reflection in the side mirror, was Mali. The eighteen-year-old jungle princess had traded her loincloth for a scandalous, form-fitting leather racer suit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material was snug against her skin, hugging her wide hips and accentuating her bubbly breasts, while the zipper was pulled down just enough to show off an eye-catching display of ample cleavage. She posed, popping a hip, looking every bit the "Queen of the Road." Mr. Krabs, the red crab salesman, rubbed his claws together greedily, his eyes practically turning into dollar signs. "A fine vessel for a fine lady! Agagagag! She purrs like a sea kitten, she does!" Just then, the front doors of the

Literature

Murder in Minneapolis: Premonition Becomes Reality

Murder in Minneapolis: Premonition Becomes Reality by p.b. wells A loving mother of three is turned into a headline, a footnote, a lesson, a warning. Renee Nicole Good. Ruthlessly murdered by one of the American Reich’s brown-shirts boys who call themselves law because it sounds cleaner than what they really are. Her crime was caring for those who still believed the torch meant welcome, that the 305-foot-tall lady in New York Harbor still offered a promise and not a trap. Come in, she says. Be free, she says. And the country nods with its teeth showing. Then the shots. Then the shock of disbelief. Then the brief stillness that follows violence when the world holds its breath and decides whether it will flinch or kneel. Within hours, with no evidence, with no shame, the regime slaps a label on her like a clearance sticker. Domestic terrorist. They say she ran over an I.C.E. federal agent. They say it fast, they say it loud, they say it like a prayer to a god made of

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ZeSurvivalDeviant

Literature

News of 08th September 2023

Hey! Time for some news! 7500 watchers (And #BestStory ) I wanted to thank you for the 7500 watchers. The next step will be the 10k watchers. I know we'll do it for the new 2023-2024 Season. But I must have to admit that if a lot of you have suddenly decide to unwatch because of the "spam" of "Lick my ass", I'm really sorry. That the reason why I decided to change the format for the #BestStory2024. Write your Story 02 It was a long time not seeing this event. Know that I plan to do this on September 2023. And the first part of the Story will be release on Sunday 10th September at 18.00 Europe. Eka I decided to create a new story on Eka's and good news, you'll also get the story here. The first part is actually release and I'll release each part every Friday. Hope you'll like. 2000 on Valentin's story I also tease you about a new story for the 2000 watchers. If my expectations are rights, the new story will be released on November. Plus, a poll is actually launched to let you

Literature

News of 25th August 2023

Hey! There is the news of the week! Season 2023-2024 Well! The holiday is soon over and it's time to begin the new Season. Next Sunday (Not 27th August but 03rd September), you'll discover the first story cover of the Season. I plan to release also like this : Monday : Cover of the chapter Tuesday : Part 1 of the chapter Wednesday : Part 2 of the chapter Thursday : Part 3 of the chapter Friday : Last part of the chapter Plus, as I tell you, I plan more story, that I named "Story of the week" as I plan a complete story (More than 2 pages) that I'll release on DeviantArt on Saturday. The short Stories will be released on Sunday so consider that I release one caption every day. There is unfortunatly not a lot of news to tell you so see you next weeks for the news!

Literature

Write your story 02 - #07

You have a lot of ideas and thank you. Now you'll decide for the reason. *She throws her mother's magazine *She didn't do the laundry *She found a magic book and cast a spell on her unawarely Poll now

Nick07208

Literature

Ms. Frizzle and her class comes to 2030

Saturday, September 14, 2030. The skyway has flying cars. Then the bus on hover conversion arrives with Ms. Frizzle driving as they're on a mission and they're flying through the skyway passing through a taxicab. Dorothy Ann: What was that? Ms. Frizzle: Taxicab. Dorothy Ann: What do you mean a taxicab? I thought we were flying. Ms. Frizzle: Exactly. Dorothy Ann: All right, Ms. Frizzle. What's going on? Where are we? When are we? Ms. Frizzle: We're descending toward Walkerville, California on Saturday, September 14, 2030. Dorothy Ann: 2030? You mean we're in the future? Carlos: The future? D.A., what do you mean "We're in the future?" Dorothy Ann: Uh, Carlos. We're in the Magic School Bus, remember? Carlos: Oh, yeah. We are in the Magic School Bus made into a time machine to travel through time. This happens to be the year 2030? Ms. Frizzle: September 14, 2030. Carlos: I was right about that. D.A., we could see our future. Ms. Frizzle, you said that D.A. and I are married;

Literature

Discovering Ms. Frizzle's tombstone

Monday, May 10, 1976 at night. Ms. Frizzle and the class are outside the mine now, near the cemetery, loading stuff onto the tow truck. Ms. Frizzle: You know; when I was a kid, I always wanted to be a cowgirl. Now knowing I'll spend my future in the past, it sounds like a wonderful way to spend my retirement years. It just occurred to me, everybody. Since I end up in 1900, perhaps I'm now in the history books. I wonder... could I go to the library and look myself up in the old newspaper archives? Ralphie: I don't know, Ms. Frizzle. You're the one whose always saying, you know, it's not good to know too much about your own destiny. Ms. Frizzle: You're right, Ralphie. I know too much already. Better that I not attempt to uncover the circumstances of my own... future. Ralphie: There's no room for all of us in the tow truck. Dorothy Ann: I know, Ralphie. We ought to take separate vehicles. Ralphie: I know. At least we're old enough to drive. Dorothy Ann: I know we're old enough to

Literature

Ms. Frizzle and her class goes back to 1976

Inside the bus, the destination time says "May 8, 1976, 6:00 AM". Dorothy Ann: That's right, Ms. Frizzle. May 8, 1976. Ms. Frizzle: Unbelievable that old Phoebe could've chosen that particular date. It could mean in that point in time inherently contains some sort of cosmic significance. Almost as if it were the temporal junction point for the entire space-time continuum. On the other hand, it could just be an amazing coincidence. Then the destination time changes to "January 1, 1900, 12:00 AM" blinking. Ms. Frizzle bangs on it to change the destination time back to "May 8, 1976, 6:00 AM". Ms. Frizzle: Gotta fix that thing. All right, time circuits on. Ms. Frizzle turns on the time circuits. Dorothy Ann: What do you mean time circuits on? Ms. Frizzle, we're not going back now! Ms. Frizzle: Yep. Dorothy Ann: Ms. Frizzle, what about Liz? We can't just leave her here. Ms. Frizzle: Don't worry, Dorothy Ann. Assuming we succeed in our mission, this alternate 2003 will be changed

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EllenRead

400

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Literature

Every Journey Has An Ending

If I would have nine lives,maybe in one of them,I would smile to a star called Desire,which appears from time to time on the sky of an unknown planet,to make life brighter.With eight lives, I would think I'm so rich,that I would be able to find that wonderful legendary golden dragonand with generosity,maybe he would protect me from emptiness.With seven lives,I would be so proud by my beauty,that maybe I would forgetthat you can not live so long without having a doubt.With six lives,I would turn the ashes of the Universe in diamondsand maybe all known or unknown eyes,would see the light.With five lives,maybe I would discover from where spri...

Literature

Wintry Deaths

The frost oppresses silence, spawning death in snow-white form, freezing one’s fingers and chilling one’s muscles. Here the man alone walks. Here no voice replies, only the crack and groan of ice and a dog’s frightened eyes. For him, he ignites the fire, only to confound him, the flame disappearing for an angry moment. Oh, how unaccommodating is the bitterness of a frozen death. The dog looks away, using blind instinct. The man’s moral weakness eventually reveals itself. No amount of arrogance or self-deception lasts forever. Instinct overtakes morality, survival devours companionship. The dog’s sacrifice is less than the man’s cruel, painful demise. Snow covers and distorts all forms. The trail takes more time, but it too dissipates into nothingness. Wintery death descends, a hush of white upon the earth— time exhales its last breath, and silence blooms in frost.

Literature

Without Origin

It’s midnight. Something knocks— not at the door, but on the desk. The writer looks up and sees an old face staring back. Odd thing is, it’s his own, just worn by years he hasn’t lived yet. No words. Just a book offered, to the hands of the writer, its title already famous in a time that has yet to occur. The pages whisper things only prophecy would dare. The writer reads. He publishes it. The world devours every line. Time rolls on. The book slips back through the years, landing again on that same desk in front of the younger writer. And there it is— the loop, perfect and unbroken. Nobody started it. Nobody dreamed it up. It just exists. A story without a seed. So, who’s the real author? The writer? Their future self? Or maybe it’s the silence hanging between them that knows best. Maybe the book wrote itself, bending time to its will, using the writer as its instrument. No matter how you slice it, the book is real. It lingers between past and

Written Art

Literature

Halloween Haikus

#2 Drowning in the bath Mother seems to be quite pleased Babies wail and scream #3 Snake eyes rats inside Fires burning in your head Soon you will be dead #4 My flesh is burning The putrid breath of monsters Engulf my black lungs #5 Standing on a ledge Voices demanding, I jump Head explodes on road #6 Blood pouring from wrist I watch it pool on the floor My death is lovely #7 Airplane is crashing Everyone is panicking I just laugh and smile #8 Lifeboat is sinking The ocean is in turmoil Death feels like a dream #9 A face in the dark I slowly look behind me Fear devours the sane #10 Freezing in the snow Can’t even feel my blood ooze The tree smiles at me # 11 Full moon lights the sky Ancient howls surrounding me I lick my sharp fangs #12 Wild dogs circle me Trying to devour me I take my last breath #13 Pagan goddesses Dancing naked by the fire Green flames light the night # 14 People are cowards Humanity is devoured by evil Hell is life on earth #15 He kisses

Literature

Astray

There’s nothing to say, and yet, I’ll repeat it once more. Outside my window, there’s a chalk outline of a dead little boy. Was he murdered by you, or was it me? Perhaps just a byproduct of our demented society. The bullets that sprayed were never meant for this boy. A single round went astray, now, the boy is no more. And they’ll put him to rest with a few token tears, Just another pointless excuse for some ice-cold beers. The silence that follows, is heavy and sick, A community torn apart, by one wayward click. The laughter that echoed, through these streets like children's songs. Is hushed and stifled, something is seriously wrong. The games that were played, in the warmth of the sun, Are memories faded, the joy is all done. For each empty playground, and each vacant lot, Speaks volumes of the childhoods that time has forgot. We're left with the questions, of why and the how this could be. As we stand by the outline, and make solemn pleas. To change and to cherish, each

Literature

Just for giggles

"No, Riding Hood. I ain't pulling your finger again. And that's final!" "And you call yourself a wolf." "You of all people should know how little I care for loud, abrupt noises." "Come on. It's not like I'm hiding a musket in my basket." "That wasn't even funny the first time." "Yes it was. The paperbag was fun, too." "Riding Hood! I. HATE. LOUD. NOISES!" "Says the wolf that can out-snore an earthquake." "Ha. ha. ha. I don't snore." "You wake up Granny at least once a week. And she's deaf as a door knob." "She is old and nervous." "Nervous? She hunted boars for sports in her younger days." "Not any more." "No. She ate 'em all." "Is THAT why her farts smell worse than a pile of dead skunks?" "Ehh. I guess so. Or could be her dentures. They ARE made of boar husks." "I really don't like her dentures. They make her look creepy." "Aww. You poor little thing." "Riding Hood, old ladies are not supposed to have boar fangs." "And you are not supposed to me afraid of grannies." "I am not afraid

Poetry and Stories

Literature

Critmas 2025

Literature

The Kwanzaa Song

Title: The Kwanzaa Song Angels! flying, in a snowy cake High John, whisking all to play Carillon bells, repressing each their folks sake! And prayers that none, are lone way Umoja in cuddles, a hot meal, and whiffs , of nog Make our Nia, the season sight Little lights, with dreams of, morrows log Proof our Kujichagulia, is right Imani, a nick's, made a stay Loaded some Ujamaa! plus Kuumba! from a sleigh And even each lonely child, will make a smile For our Ujima, let them know, we a while So I'm! offering, this simple phrase To kids from one, to ninety-two Although it's been said, many times, many ways Habari Gani, to you [Instrumental Interlude] So I'm! offering, this simple phrase To kids from one, to ninety-two Although it's been said, many times, many ways Habari Gani, to you from HDdeviant /Richard Murray

Literature

Fate(Sol Fu do know)

Title: Fate(Sol Fu do know) Pa and Ma! , somewhere is special [begin larger refrain] My heart flies!, to-make-that-new level Old arbor! all it's routines aren't, jazz From-the-old-nest-you-taught-me the truth I-want!-a-good-ruth My lady lover Over there, she waits for pleasure New arbor!, in it's true freedom, jazz! It-is-unique in pleasure A chocolate shadow , sweet home! And-if-we use good measure Our-children will not, need a tome! The sunlight, the glass kite ,old light [begin mini refrain] The-Sol Fu do know The sea, old blood be, ancient plea Grant our! tow We wee, make it be, rest easy Our-true-freedom is bo That is the hope, and if a nope Alls-fate Solfu know [end mini refrain] [end larger refrain] Mini Refrain [instrumental] [instrumental + scatting] Larger Refrain [instrumental + scatting] [acapella scatting] [instrumental + scatting] from HDdeviant /Richard Murray

The Bane of Tennen teaser

NagatoYukiChan

Published: Apr 20, 2018

224 Views

Description

The Bane of Tennen is a story that will be coming some point down the line. Trouble is brewing in the great city of Tennen and is spilling over its walls, putting the surrounding lands at risk as well. Young Amynta, being a life long resident of the city is caught up in it all, and is now expected to play a role in which she would never have expected.

Image size

567x900px 377.92 KB

Comments2

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Mariotag

Apr 20, 2018

I shall eagerly await this.
Props!

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