#tornado kin

[starscatteredsky]

Tips for tornado kin?

tips for tornados

pt: tips for tornados

get some fans in your living space!

listen to wind sounds or other storm ambience!

dress in silvers, greys, whites, pale purples/blues or other “windy” colours! (use darker ones to seem more stormy!)

wear light, airy, or baggy clothing that flows or dances about!

wear silvery, long, draping jewellery

wear lots of transparent accents, like gloves, fishnets, or cool silvery blouses!

collect wind chimes!

get lots of clinking jewelry that sounds like chimes!

use wind and tornado related pronouns!

wear some green, the sky turns green before a tornado!

enjoy!! -🩸

have a great day, hope these help!! -🩸

Requests open!!!

[image description:

a DNI banner with the background being the promotional image for Little Nightmares 2. The writing reads:

"DNI: radqueers, proshippers, radfems/TERFs, antikin/antitherian, homophobic/ ableist/ anti ACAB/ transphobic/ rasist/ antisemitic/ xenophobic/ antitheist/ anti athiest/ bigoted in any fashion, NSFW/sh/ed/cringe centered blog, fakeclaimer

Before you interact: We are pro mspec gays/lesbians, anti endo/tulpa "systems", enjoy MCYT/DSMP, pro self diagnoses with extensive research, multiple alters are punks/ anarchists"

end description]

[cyber-therian]

Finished product!

Would’ve had it done sooner if there wasn’t a tornado

thank you this is beautiful!!!! can i put it in a collection of gifts?

also.. im so sorry about the tornado, are you safe? /gen

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

stimboard for : a thunder manifestation (genshin impact) kin with creepy fields/midwest gothic scenery, supercell thunderstorms, and red sprites requested by @octahedral-chaos (hope you won't mind me using some of your own gifs!)

x | x | x x | - | x x | x | x

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Daryl Dixon taking care of traumatized reader—why can't everyone just go away? except you, you can stay. (cw(s): Daryl's trauma, talks of anxiety, ptsd, non-descriptive self-harm)

Yandere Daryl didn't think much of you at first. You're just another weaklin' that'll be gone in a few dawns. He shouldn't waste his time lookin' after people like that anyway.

You barely talked since he met ya. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone else in the group. You contribute, but it isn't much. Unlike him, you appear to be a sweet lil snack for the walkers: defenseless and skittish, a rabbit.

Still, like a leaf holdin' onto a sickly oak in a tornado, you stayed alive. From the quarry to the prison, you ambled along, not opening up to anyone. Well, maybe you opened up to him just a lil.

Yandere Daryl ends up being your safe place. He's someone who listens. He may not be good with feelings n' shit but he listens well. He lets you curl up next to him and tell him about anything. Sometimes it's nothing, and he appreciates that.

You both can sit in silence, and it's never awkward. It's like two kin souls meeting each other and simmering together.

Yandere Daryl grows closer to you. He doesn't want to think about it. He's always thinkin' about ya. There's always at least one eye on your figure.

He refuses to let you go on trips alone or without him. So naturally he gets somewhat aggressive when others talk down to ya. If someone raises their voice atcha, then he's ready to punch their teeth inward. He's proud of the sick and twisted thoughts that roll through his head of the things he wants to do to anything that threatens to hurt you.

He doesn't want to show you that side of him.

He's heard about your past and how the fall of the world affected you. He promised himself that he wouldn't ever be the reason you shut down or have a pstd flashback. He's workin' on being better than his mom and pop's relationship. Even the notion of possibly raising a hand against you makes his stomach churn, his head spin.

Yandere Daryl is always there to comfort you when something goes awry. He's still shitty at it, but he provides himself and hopes to whatever is out there, that's it's good enough. He tends to wrap one or both arms around you when you shut down/regress. He enjoys placing his chin over the top of your head and humming a sweet tune that he heard from the uppity church ladies that used to frequent his shitty neighborhood. 

He tries to say those nice things.

"Is alright."

"I'll protect ya."

"You're safe. The bad people can't hurt ya no more."

It helps heal his inner child as well. He gets to protect you, and it feels like he's protecting little Daryl Dixon as well. There's no screamin', hittin', broken booze bottles, or half-tapped-out cigarettes. There's only you and him. 

He'd murder anyone that got in the way of that, even Carol, even Rick.

He'll never admit it, but he likes it when you play with his hair, especially when you're stressed or overwhelmed. If you trace his scars, then he's in heaven.

Yandere Daryl always makes sure you have whatever health stuff you need. It could be meds, certain foods, prosthetics, or anything else. He'll do anything. He puts himself in the toughest situations just to make sure you are happy n' alive.

Have a medical condition? Meds are yours. He'll find substitutes if he can or learn medicinal remedies.

Allergies or food restrictions? No worries. He may be a shitty cook, but it's the end of the world. He's got plenty of time to practice so you can have a fully tummy and plenty of energy.

Hard of hearing or deaf? He learns sign language. He may be bad at it, but he'll learn! He doesn't mind repeating himself or repeating what others said for you. He'll do his best to find hearing aids or batteries if you used those before the world went to hell.

Partially or fully blind? He'll find you a cane or wittle you a walking stick. He'll be your guide.

Have a missing body part or limited mobility? He'll search high and low for a prosthetic. He'll carry you if he needs to. He'll help you in any way. He can't really find how practical wheelchairs are in the apocalypse, but he'll figure somethin' out.

Some other restriction or something rare he's never heard of? He'll go hell n' back to make sure you have whatever you need.

You just need space? Fine. He's still going to watch you from afar.

There are times when walker bites seem to pale in comparison to that innocently bright expression in your eyes. It's the look that he's always wanted to see from somebody. You look at him like he's some sort of protector, some hero. The first time he saw it, his initial reaction was to brush it off and call you stupid. He regretted that as soon as he saw you deflate and curl back within yourself. He mumbled a 'sorry' and made sure to never do it again.

Yandere Daryl almost breaks down the first time he notices your self-harming tendencies. It could be fresh cuts or starving yourself. It isn't good. He tries not to be harsh with you.

He tries.

It's just so hard because he's crying. He's trying to be quiet but he can't. He loves you so much that the thought of you not loving yourself makes him want to worship you until you do.

Why can't you see it? Why can't you see how special you are?

He wants to think you're selfish, but he knows you're not. It's your body. Is he being selfish? No. Yes? No.

He doesn't know.

All he knows is that he ends up on his knees with tears streaming down his face. He's begging. The words aren't intelligible, but he is.

This is what you do to him. This lil lamb just had to lay in his pasture.

Just stay alive. He'll do the rest for you.

Yandere Daryl just protects you. He hates groups but he knows they're important. You've made bonds, and so has he, unfortunately. He'll just keep you close. Maybe one day he'll be able to confess his undying reverence for you. Hopefully you won't figure out how many people he has killed for you. The things he has done... oh, they'd make the devil cry. As long as you sleep well at night knowing your Daryl Dixon is protectin' you. Well, he doesn't care about the so-called 'collateral damage' because of it.

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Four - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, and Chapter Three! Masterlist :)

Chapter Four - Out Wrangled

Tyler had paid for breakfast, leaving a generous tip for the gals who both gave you smiles and winks as they watched him open the door for you. 

“Are you ready to experience not Youtube star Tyler, darlin?” He asked, walking over to the passenger side of his truck. 

“And there’s going to be no crazy schemes or secret live streams to embarrass me?” You asked, leaning against the truck. 

“Promise,” he said, opening the door for you. 

You squinted your eyes at him, unsure if he was being serious or not. You got inside the truck, gently placing the flowers in the backseat so they didn’t get crushed. Tyler shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side and slid into his seat. Being inside the famous red truck made you feel like you were in some sort of spaceship with how many buttons and switches there were. Some of the labels in Boone’s handwriting made you giggle, ‘color booms’ and ‘stay putters’ were the best two of the bunch. 

“Admiring Boone’s handy work?” He asked, putting his seatbelt on and putting the key in the ignition. 

“I don’t know if handy work is the right word,” you laughed, “Maybe lack of English skills, but I’ll let it slide.” 

“Yeah, he ain’t the brightest bulb when it comes to that, but he’s great with a camera,” Tyler laughed, turning the key and the truck firing up. 

“I’m glad your music isn’t as loud as this morning,” you teased, putting your seatbelt and sunglasses on. 

“I thought no one saw,” he groaned, putting his forehead on the steering wheel. 

You laughed, “If I count as no one, then yes. No one saw.” 

“Ugh,” he groaned, leaning back and putting his cowboy hat in the middle of the dash, “No, you’re not a no one. But I was really hoping I went unnoticed.” 

“You? Unnoticed? Ha!” You said, putting your phone in the cup holder and squeezing your purse under the armrest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” He asked, looking over at you over his sunglasses. 

“You’re basically a star in all of Tornado Alley, Owens,” you stated, looking back at him, “You could walk into a Walmart and be surrounded by people, even if they didn’t like you, they would flock to you.” 

He smirked, “Can’t help people enjoy watching what I do, but they’ll never enjoy it as much as me.” 

“It’ll be a hell of a way to go,” you said, crossing your legs and looking out the window, “Headlines stating Tornado Alley’s biggest Tornado Wrangler got out wrangled in his last tornadeo!” 

“Ouch,” he said, putting the truck in reverse and heading west of town. 

“You’ll be fine,” you said, rolling the window down. 

“You better hope so, otherwise you get to drive back,” he said, “And it’s a two-hour drive to where we’re going.” 

“Which is where? Do I need to inform my next of kin where they’ll find my body?” You joked, glancing over at him. 

“What?” He laughed, “You will be fine, I’ll keep you safe like my life depends on it.” 

“Good, because it does,” you said, looking over your sunglasses to watch his eyebrows go up, “My team is pretty protective of me.” 

He swallowed hard, “I know…” 

“Why don’t we listen to the radio?” you asked, turning the dial to hear the start of  The Dixie Chicks singing ‘Cowboy Take Me Away.’ 

This is where you had to decide how comfortable you were going to be with Tyler as this was the song you sang that won you the high school talent show. As you were debating on it, you noticed Tyler tapping the steering wheel along to the drums, at least you knew his taste in music was the same as yours.

As if it was planned, you both started to hum along softly before it got to the chorus. 

“Oh, it sounds good to me,” you sang softly, grabbing his hat and placing it on your head, “I said, cowboy, take me away.” 

Tyler glanced over at you, a smile coming to his face as he heard you sing. He’s heard a lot of great artists over his years of listening to music and seeing live performances, but none compared to the melody coming out of you. On top of that, putting his hat on while being in his truck? He fell even more head over heels for you, knowing deep down he was to do everything in his power to spend his life with you. 

“I wanna look at the horizon, and not see a building standing tall,” you sang softly, adjusting in your seat to put your boots on the dash, “I wanna be the only one for miles and miles, except for maybe you and your simple smile.” 

As he drove he pictured just that, the idea of having a little slice of Heaven with you sounded so peaceful. All too soon the song ended and moved onto one he could sing along to, even though he knew you could too. 

“Little place is a little bit understated, yeah, the O.J. 's always concentrated,” he sang, rolling his window down, “The AC’s broke so we gotta sleep naked, it’s a good day for livin’.” 

“Since when can this cowboy sing?” You asked, looking over at him while swaying your feet to the beat of Joe Nichols’ ‘Good Day for Living.’ 

“Since I was little, how about you Miss American Idol?” He asked, “You’d be America’s next big star, bigger than Lainey Wilson.” 

“Haha, I’ve tried back home,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt, “Didn’t get me very far so I came up here and started storm chasing.” 

“Have you ever thought about going to Nashville?” He asked, knowing he would hate if you left, but he wanted you to live your dreams. 

“No, if I did grow into anything, I wanted to do it organically. Not the cookie-cutter molds that usually come out of Nashville,” you scoffed slightly. 

“Oh, you seem like you’ve had a bad experience with it?” He asked, his tone being hushed as he didn’t want to bring up any bad feelings. 

“I didn’t personally but one of my uncles tried and was told to do the opposite of what he was doing to become a star,” you said, “It is what it is, but I vowed I would never do it that way.” 

“Understandable, darlin’,” he said, leaning back into his seat and driving with his left hand. 

It was silent in the cab for about a half hour of the drive, just listening to music and feeling the warm breeze on your skin. You glanced over at the clock on the radio, it reading 10:26 am. You had been driving for an hour since leaving the diner, and you still had no idea where you were headed. You weren’t sure what all there was to do in Oklahoma besides chase storms or a rodeo. While you were thinking over all the things you could figure out to do in the state, your phone ringing pulled you from your thoughts.

Asher was calling you. As much as you appreciated him being a part of Storm Riders, he followed you around like a lost puppy and did everything you told him to do. If you told him to jump into the Grand Canyon, he would. 

You picked up your phone, answering “This is (Y/n).”

“(Y/N)! What am I supposed to do on a day off? I’ve already gone through the whole checklist you made for me when it’s a clear day, but now I’m stuck sitting in the van waiting,” he said, “Everyone went to the big town close by to go shopping and sightseeing.” 

“Why don’t you take the drone out and fly around the area, see if you can find some wildlife, and get some cool pictures of nature, Ash,” you said, bringing your hand to your forehead and rubbing circles gently. 

“Where are you even? Your truck is here, but you’re not. You weren’t even here when we all got up,” he said, you could hear the shuffling of papers and a door opening. 

“I went out with someone,” you stated plainly, “Go fly the drone, and if you get bored call Willow or Jade. I’m going to be unavailable for the rest of the day.” 

“O-Okay,” he said and hung up. 

You sighed, “I love that kid but he needs to grow more independent.” 

Tyler laughed, shaking his head, “Send him with us for a while and he’ll learn quick.” 

“Really?” You asked a little too quickly. 

“I’ll let Ben ride with you so he can get better shots of Ol Red here and the team shooting more fireworks into a ‘nado,” he said, smirking. 

“Only you, Tyler,” you laughed, leaning onto the armrest and laying your hand over the edge. 

Tyler glanced over and decided it was now or never. He took a deeper breath and grabbed your hand with his, giving it a soft squeeze. Why this caused you to jump, you’ll never know, but it did.

Want more? Here's Chapter Five!

[dallasgallant]

Country/southern slang and vernacular-

This is what I’m going with for the title as honestly I’m not sure what else you would call it, but it is also linked to class a little bit? It’s complicated. Anyways, surprised I haven’t done one like this sooner as I’ve done:

JD slang. 60s slang. Rodeo terms

However, it can’t include everything! As usual take this as a jumping off point, it’s funny as Oklahoma is technically southern, culturally and such. Some are sourced from general knowledge, others from southern or “Oklahoma slang” which heavily overlaps but is more accented.

A lot of this ended up actually being more writing accented speech with some slang thrown in, a lot of it is about contractions! Also word usage! They’ll be a more “general grammar” and accent section at the bottom.

—

All get out- sentence enhancer (ex. Funny as all get out)

Air up - Pump air into something (Tires, mattress)

Ain’t - am not; are not; is not. has not; have not.

An’ all - and all

Belted- beaten

‘Bout - about

Billfold- Wallet (Oklahoman, used in place of wallet)

Caint- Can’t

‘Cos - cause/because

Coke- soda (any kind) (ex. You wanna get a Coke? What kind?)

Crick- creek

Do up - prepare : clean/repair (Ex. Y’all do up the dishes)

Do wut - say again

D’yall - Do y’all or did y’all

don’tcha - Don’t you

Drop trou- pull down one’s pants , especially as a stunt in public

dyeet - did you eat?

Figure- Calculate, consider, decide

Fixin’ - on the verge of something : getting ready to

fronta - in front of

Fo’ sure- for sure

Fussin’- overexagerated concern, fidgeting

Gettin’ round - getting ready to go somewhere or do something (ex. Gettin’ round to it)

Gonna- going to

Gussied up - dressed nicer than everyday (ex. Church clothes)

hafta- have to

Hankering- desire, yearning, craving

Heap - a large quantity (ex. Heap of trouble)

Holler- loud cry or shout

Honky tonk - bar where people dance (typically to county, line dance )

Howdy- Greeting or used to express surprise

howta - how to

Hush- quiet, shut up

Ice box - fridge (Oklahoman or rural)

I’mma - I’m gonna or I am

Imma geddin sig n tard" - I’m getting sick and tired

ja'eet yet?- did you eat yet?

Kin- family (not always by blood. Could be someone you’re close to)

Laying out - staying the night (doing something illicit) or

Let alone - leave alone or to indicate somethings less likely

Like to - Almost (rare)

Lick [Noun] - any amount (Ex. Didn’t get a lick of sleep last night)

Lick [Verb] - beat (ex. Steve Licked that soc good)

Musta- must have

Muddin’ (Oklahoman) - off-roading, going down muddy trails

‘N - then/than or and

Naw- no

Neither- not one or other (sometimes used in place of either)

Nuss - To nurse

Okie- native resent of Oklahoma (formerly derogatory during dust bowl)

Ornery- combative, mean

Ought- indicate something correct or probable

Oughta- ought to

Ope- oops

Outta- out or

Preddy sure - pretty sure

Prolly- probably

Pop- soda

Purdy- pretty

Pitch a fit- throw a fit, be really upset

Reckon- think: suppose

Rise- upset someone (ex. He sure got a rise out of her)

Rile- upset someone (ex. Don’t rile up the dog)

Ruther - rather

Shouldn’t’ve- shouldnt have (double negative)

Shoot- polite way to say shit : go ahead and speak

Sho’ nuff - sure enough

‘Sides - besides

s’not - it’s not/is not

s’okay - it’s okay

Sorta- sort of

Sprinklin’ - light rain

stocking feet - wearing just socks

Sumbitch - son of a bitch

Tailing- follow without being noticed

The city - Oklahoma City (even if you live in Tulsa. ‘The city’ is Oklahoma City)

Tore up - upset

Tryan- Heavily accented Tryin’

Twister- Tornado (used to be more regional)

Upitty- conceited, fancy, snobby

Welp - well or expression (ex. Welp, I better head out)

Whup/whoop- hit

Whipped- beaten

won’tcha = won’t you

Y’all - you all

Yall’re- y’all are

Y’ain’t - you ain’t

Yer - your

-

Grammar-

The more I added to the list the more I realized writing for the gang is just as much learning to write accent than it is slang, it’s the way they talk and that includes grammar etc. Im going to try and explain some points that I’ve noticed in an understandable way, but it’s also important to note that these rules don’t apply every time necessarily.

Using the wrong word

less words in certain sentences (ex. Don’t mean nothin’)

With above, fewer words to describe things.

Drop the G occasionally (ex. Nothin’ )

Adding ‘d instead of saying ‘would (ex. Soda’d)

Real> really (descriptive)

Anybody > anyone

Weren’t typically goes with a double negative ( ex. weren’t nothing we could do)

Use of ‘you’ (used instead of a name or ‘your’)

Use of ‘was’ instead of ‘were’ ( ex. I knew you was)

Both Aren’t and isn’t become ain’t (sometimes even more)

A LOT OF CONTRACTIONS

Combing words - either a new contraction or new spelling to emphasize accent, especially around questions (ex. ja'eet yet?)

Use of expressions/idioms (ex. That dog won’t hunt)

[sleepyorchidmonster]

What if king Henrik managed to steal Malleus's egg after defeating Meleanor?

The main point is that the egg WOULDN'T hatch because it needs love (and even in canon it took a couple of centuries to hatch, despite the presence of Lillia and Maleficia).

So after a few tries, he discards his plans and keeps the egg as a trophy. Years pass and a five year-old Silver finds the trophy room while playing. He stumbles into the pedestal holding the egg, but manages to save it before it falls.

The child then senses a tiny heartbeat, and realizes there is a baby inside the egg!

The egg hatches immediately. Baby Silver loved it at once (the way he did once upon a dream).

And that's how we get a Dragon Prince journey (sorta).

After the dragon hatched, Silver went to talk with his animal friends to see if they could help (he loves his parents, but he couldn't just tell them he went to the trophy room to play, some instinct of his was also telling him they couldn't be trusted).

He left the little dragon under the care of a mother bear and went to the library to see if he could find anything. He came across a few old books from before the Silver Owls that described the Draconias (the little prince was so excited! His dragon friend could become a friend friend! He didn't have any friends besides the animals! And the dragon was even a fellow prince!)

But first things first! His dragon friend needed to meet his actual family, they were probably worried sick! So he grabbed a few maps, marked out the closest fae castle, told his parents he would go play with the animals in the woods and left.

The trek was very long and dangerous, but the entire forest was on his side. Baby Silver kept talking to Malleus, explaining life as a prince, introducing his animal friends, and trying to find out if he liked to eat berries.

They avoided war-stricken areas and managed to reach fae territory. And that's when things took a turn for the worse.

Henrik and the Silver Owls found them. Apparently, the egg was missing and a search party was assembled to follow its magical traces. Baby Silver didn't know that, and went to greet his uncle, saying that he was helping out a friend find his family!!

Henrik looked at his nephew, then at the dragon, and went for the kill, literally. The kid couldn't even defend himself, as his uncle cut him down with a simple strike (dawn knight was at home).

And that's when baby Malleus's magic blew up.

A snowstorm of cataclysmic proportions struck, complete with fire tornados and lightning. At the center of it all stood two children, the tiny Silver that was bleeding out, and Malleus, who had taken a human form and was trying to close the wound (he changed forms because he was scared and emulated the only thing he could think of as strong and protection, and that thing was five year-old Silver). Meanwhile, all of the animals formed a protective circle around them.

Luckily, reinforcements soon arrived. Both Lillia and Maleficia came (that storm could only be a Draconia's doing, they would NOT lose the egg again). They made quick work of the rest of the Silver Owls before rushing to Malleus's aid.

The animals let the faes though, as if they knew the dragon had finally found his kin. But Malleus wouldn't let go of Silver, even when the kid started telling him "Look, we found your family!! You're safe!", smiling despite the pain and looming death.

With the use of "Far Cry Cradle", Lillia quickly explained the situation, and the faes made the decision to save the human. They had a much too big debt with this child, who was so innocent it hurt.

They were also keeping the human. If that despicable man was his UNCLE, then no way in hell were the rulers of Briar Valley going to give the child back to his family. It would be a disgrace to the Draconia family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, there a a few ways this AU could go.

1. The faes weren't able to save Silver. They create a monument in his honor and he becomes the only human they respect. Relations with the Silver Owls may improve now that Henrik is dead, if they can convince Dawn Knight his son died to save Malleus.

2. The faes save Silver, who lives in Briar Valley until the end of his mortal lifespan, acting as Malleus's big brother and knight. The Silver Owls are angry, but eventually come to an agreement once they realize there was no mind control involved.

3. The faes manage to save Silver, but the wounds were so grave that he had to stay in magic stasis for a few hundred years. Receiving the BOTW Shrine of Ressurection treatment. Due to the nature of the magic, he lost his memories, got silver hair and became sleepy. He later wakes up and becomes the Silver we all know and love. Malleus still sees him as the older brother, but thinks that now it's his turn to protect the human!

[gamerwoman3d]

Hey. Y'all wanna hear some crazy talk?

This will probably be the deadliest tornado season on record for the Bible Belt.

Texas is on fire with over a million acres burned. El Niño is on a weird downturn dropping blizzards across California and Colorado. Hot air plus cold air equals big boom. And that's just the science part of it.

CONTENT WARNING: mentions of Death, murder, natural disasters, related to hate crime, references to spiritual practices

The spiritual part of it? Asshole colonizers killed an all-black wearing two-spirit Choctaw kid in Owasso named Nex Benedict.

I'm not going to be surprised if tornadoes rip apart the bigoted governor's house. I'm not going to be surprised if Owasso is ripped off the map. I'm not going to be surprised if that one Senator has to deal with funeral after funeral and a state of emergency for the rest of his term. I'm not going to be shocked if the resultant economic downturn collapses the political power of the red states, and I'm not gonna be surprised if we get a second dust bowl outta this.

To top it off, there's a new twisters film in post production. The first twisters film came out during a weird spike in tornadoes as well. It's like the collective unconsciousness of the artistic/filmmaking world knows what's about to happen.

Now. I do not speak for all natives. As for myself, and some other natives - a tornado is not just hot air plus blizzard air. It's a person. It is an entity. We can talk to that entity, and it talks back. And my understanding was a lot of those entities wore black. A lot of those entities came with more than one spirit. It's possible to have a "family of tornadoes."

One little problem- someone just prematurely sent an all-black wearing Choctaw two-spirit back to the sky.

I don't even know them. I don't have any reason to believe that the spirit of that innocent kid might be vengeful about what happened. But I got a pretty good handle on what the ANCESTORS probably feel about that.

A kid like Nex is a gift. They can understand both sides of the gender divide, can solve problems and make medicine that no other type of person can. Owasso was blessed to have them around - if you believed in a great spirit then you'd know that the great spirit PERSONALLY sent that gift to your community. Rejecting Nex was an act of rejecting the great spirit.

Someone sent that gift back to the sky.

Don't be shocked if the sky is angry.

During certain crises, many natives believed that some ancestors went into the forests to turn into animals in order to feed the starving people when there's famine. Other spirits may go into the forest to become fire, and into the sky to become storms, when there's war. Currently, one million acres of spirit life just left for the sky - ancestral spirits no longer there to feed the people who are hungry, but who went to join the great spirit and the spirit warriors dressed in black on a warpath in the sky.

Over a million acres of Texas just burned. Smoke is how the ancestors carried prayers up to the sky where the great spirit resides. The sky is absolutely chock full of their angered prayer smoke, smokey spirits wearing black.

The sky kept telling me: This is a war. They killed the wrong kid. The ancestors will not listen to anyone who buries the hatchet this year - no true native would try to stop it from happening, because they would know the importance of the gift of a two-spirit in black clothes. They would know the importance of the gift of the animals in the forest that are their own kin relatives. They would know something is wrong, for all that to be in the sky at once, and they will know to take cover from it.

If you aren't familiar with a hatchet burying ritual, don't worry about it. It won't help you right now anyway. The sky has spoken, and believes that no one who is a true native would bury the hatchet in this instance. Man wearing black is out for blood. Move. Get out of its way. Get underground. The houses aren't safe.

It's going to be bad.

A note to natives wondering who tf I am - I don't claim to be part of a tribe but I have o-gah-pah and other tribal ancestry. Some of my non-native ancestors assisted john ross and john watts in hiding native children from the feds in white neighborhoods when shit got bad. You don't have to listen to me - listen to your own elders. Listen to your own wildlife. There are no birds in the photos of Texas wildfires for a reason. If you see them all flying the same direction, try to keep up.

[spookypete-94]

By Definition-Part 2

PriceXFem!reader

Bit of a time jump in this one.

Part 1

It had been short of almost 4 years since Kate had found you outside the carnage. On a day you had tried not to think about often, the smell of smoke, blood, and gun powder somehow still managed to stay in your nose. Thrive and live there. Many times, you would dream of it still. Your arms spread wide, protecting the mother and children behind your back. Your body a vessel to it all still, shaken awake from the fear.

Since then, you have seen so much more. Things that should frighten you in foreign lands. Third world countries with ravaged soil and people. Women and children who paid the price to the rich man’s war… but you still thought of the mother and her kin you had saved repeatedly.

Maybe it’s because you had saved them in a place that should never have seen such frightening things… They thought they would always be safe. Shit. You thought you would always be safe even in the job you were in. Sure, maybe a few hot calls here and there, but an act of terrorism? Never once crossed your mind.

The war within your mind happening currently is why you are awake. Feeling like you were burning up in the midnight hour, bed once more drenched from sweat due to your night terror. Slipping out of bed, no longer finding the urge of wanting to lay there for your sleep demon to come back and haunt you more.

Quietly, you left your small room heading to the kitchenette to find water. Something, anything to help keep your mind off dreaming about that day again.

Lost alone your thoughts, spacing out into the glass of water in front of you came the voice from the man that had started your new life for you.

“Wha’ you doin’ awake sergeant?”

A moment passed before you had turned to look at him.

“Could ask you the same Captain.”

It was redundant on both of your parts. This was normal. Both awake and unable to sleep.

“Can’ sleep again?” He asked, his warm blue eyes on you.

A simple slow shake of your head to tell him no and followed him with a heavy sigh. He knew of your repetitive nightmare. Something you had told him long ago. Deep down he felt guilt, even if he knew he wasn’t the cause of it, he still felt at the root of it. The plant of your pain, deep in the dirt, blooming with guilt.

Breaking the silence you finally spoke.

“You know… it’s weird. Before then it was a tornado I could never get away from. No matter how far I drove, how far I ran. Terrified it was going to suck me up inside… but it never reached me. I always woke up before it did.” A long quiver in your words before speaking again. “But I can never wake up from this one. It always must play out for it to stop.”

He crossed his arms leaning against the counter to look at you.

“Tell me how it ends.”

It made your eyes squeeze shut, ragged breath leaving you, almost like a sob but not fully.

“Tell me…” He repeats firmer, approaching you.

“You always shoot me.” You finally admitted.

There it is. The flower is in full bloom and now wilting into itself, something you wish you could do currently. A shell shock to you both. Admitting the part you have never been able to admit to him. The part that always scares you and hurts you the most. If he’d have done it on that fateful day that led you to him, it would have ended for you and never been a second thought in your mind. But the reason it hurts so much now is because the man that has offered you a standing career for your bravery is the man that pulls the trigger in your dreams.

“You know I’d never do that, right?” Pain in his voice evident.

“I know,” the answer truthful, near whisper.

Something that rarely ever happens next. Two strong arms pull you into his chest, pressing the side of your head into him.

Thump, thump.

A familiar reminder of both your existences.

“Would never ever do that to you.”

“Think it's just what I fear the most is all.."

"Come on," he said tugging on your shoulder pulling you to walk beside him, "night cap might help us both."

Pointing to the pair of leather chairs next to a side table and lamp, telling you to take a seat.

He poured you a glass of his strongest amber colored spirit. Something you knew that was going to burn like embers going down.

Quiet amongst you both once more, sipping periodically on your drink. Honestly, it never bothered you. The quiet between you both has always been comforting.

"I've always been grateful for that day," he mumbled making you look up at him. Your no response making him continue, understanding your no reply as wanting him to explain.

"I know it was terrifying for you, but because of that day it gave me my bravest and strongest sergeant... " The words are pure and truthful. "Don't tell Gaz or Soap I said that either." He was trying to lighten the mood making you slightly snort a smile left in the wake.

"I know in a million years you would never hurt me.. but I have no idea how to make that small thought you could to go away. Only ever have it in that nightmare."

Tipping his glass back he emptied, sighing and giving a grunt at the burn down the back of his throat. He turned the empty glass in his fingers looking at it before his raspy voice made your heart melt.

"Might have some ideas."

His face had changed, his blue eyes darkened. The ice you've known twilighted to a dark sapphire. Almost primal in nature, it caused you to understand the hidden meaning of what he was implying. The attraction had always been felt since being fated to meet. Again, something you both knew but played dumb in.

"Yeah? What's that Captain?" Nonchalant, continuing in playing the part.

Leaning back in his chair, a grumble of thunder erupting as he chose not to say what he wanted to do to you and smirked.

"Why don't you come here, and find out?" His hands running down his green 5.11s, enticing and calling to you.

Finishing your drink, hoping to find the courage from it. Making the choice you slid over, kneeling down on his lap your legs straddling across him and into the chair.

"How about we make better memories to help you forget that one?" Ran together, rushed and almost whispered up to you. He was eager, wanting this for awhile now. The urge to make you feel better, give you something other of him to have dreams instead of nightmares.

Leaning down, you ran your thumb across his lip kissing him right after.

You had answer his suggestion... His request and call. Deeping the kiss, his hands anchored to your hips, holding you in place while he took control.

In that moment, you understood that it took understanding both sides to fully enjoy the positive. It took happiness-knowing John, to understand sadness- the terror in those poor children's eyes.

It took fear- your nightmares, to understand love. What you were feeling right now with John. Thankfully, the side of the coin was up now and no longer down. Here's to better memories.

Captain John Price Masterlist

[local-redhead-bookworm]

I need to rant as an Appalachian for a second

No one was prepared for this. I live in Alabama, and hurricanes virtually never even make it as far inland as where I live. For Helene to go as far north as it did is virtually unheard of. We don’t have hurricane infrastructure that far north because we’ve never needed it. We know how to prep for tornadoes or the occasional flash flood, nothing like this.

Furthermore, my region did not have adequate warning for this weather. Everything I saw was just for us to be prepared, no one was telling us to evacuate. According to a lot of people in the North Carolina area, which is where the worst of it is, they weren’t given any warning either. They just lost their internet and service until it was too late.

If any of you even THINK that the people there deserve to lose their homes or lives because they live in a red state or are Republican, shut all the way up. There are so many systemic reasons that Southern states lean conservative, but that DOES NOT mean you get to stop treating these people like humans. These people need your compassion now more than ever.

Our government is doing fuck all to help this region. The only stories I’ve heard about people jumping in to help have been individuals making the choice to step in on their own. At this point, most of these people are looking for their loved ones’ bodies. Our leaders can send billions of dollars to bomb refugee camps but we can’t help our own kin.

And another thing! Y’all are really quick to stop listening to someone or to treat them as unintelligent when they speak with an accent you look down on. Stop that. It’s classist, it’s rooted in colonialism, and it’s disgusting.

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Fem aligned DNI

The Doves Called The Day You Came Home:

Congratulations! You're dead!

This is better on Ao3

The life you were born into was not a kind one. Hell, you couldn't even really call it a life at all could you?

Not in the tunnels anyway.

The elders, the ones who survived the war and didn't go missing shortly there after, said that the tunnels and the bases in which they connected were never, never, in a million years, meant to be a long term solution to anything.

They were never meant to be livable.

...Too bad they were the only solution. That's what they say, at least. The elders don't like to talk about it, and even if they're felling particularly sentimental, you'll be lucky to get just a few minor reasons of why that is. and if you really lucked out, they'll tell you a story about the war.

The kinds of things they saw...

Let's just say that they called this war the "War to end the World" for a reason. a slight play on the "war to end all wars" thing that they used to describe world war one.

that's what you think at least, it's not like you actually had any books down there. Especially history books.

you know, it's kind of funny, in a sick twisted way.

the elders always say that all they want to do is get the hell out of the tunnels and see the sun again. you know? feel the ocean breeze....

...you didn't know how to tell them, that, even if they were up here, up on the surface that they so desperately longed for, they still wouldn't be able to enjoy those luxuries that they had always said had been so simple.

So bless them, if they ever find out about how the sun was a rare thing nowadays, about how the sky seemed to be an unnatural green-gray color. Like it was waiting for a tornado that would never come.

Bless them, if they ever find out how the only thing that drifts in from the nearby oceans is poisoned water carrying dead, half rotten fish, and trash to old products that you didn't bother trying to make sense of.

Bless them, if they ever find out the exact reason the base leaders make their people wear the masks. Although you suspected they already knew that. There's really not that much denial to cling too when you and your kin have to wear a mask that protects you from poisoned air.

They always had a tragic air around them whenever the masks were brought up, some clinging to denial, others just sighed and looked at you with a pity you didn't understand.

where did the air all come from anyways? one old man said the nearby island used to be a Bomb testing ground and radiation still hung thick in the air. one old lady said that there was a "little accident" that helped contribute.

she never told you what the little accident was. Just that it involved some type of chemical warfare.

You got no more explanation than that.

Oh yeah, and one more thing.

Bless them, bless whatever hunter or rescue team, hell, maybe even a bomb squad, that would be unfortunate enough to find your body.

Because the strap on your mask had become loose, the mask had become unsealed, and you were starting to choke.

You coughed, a weak, ragged thing, and struggled to calm down. You couldn't panic in a time like this.

If you couldn't hope to survive, then you should at least leave this world with as much peace as you could muster.

Even if that peace was fake. Just a small trick, no more real than the stupid stories of living cards and fire breathing dragons told by a man who had long since passed.

A shame really. That man was fond of you. And you loved those stories...

You hope he's resting well. wherever he ended up.

A gust of wind blew passed you, sending a small cloud of sand with it. You couldn't actually feel the grains on your skin, as you weren't showing any.

You couldn't show any. no one could. not with them still out on the streets.

No matter what. Don't let anyone out of the tunnels know what you look like.

You couldn't be executed if you couldn't be found.

...But that doesn't matter anymore, does it?

So here you were, dying on a beach that you had heard both fond memories and horrific nightmares of.

You were bleeding out, a shot to your side maybe. Probably. You couldn't tell. There was too much adrenaline to truly focus of one place.

Your body begged you to go. To just get up and move. You're going to die, move!

But you didn't.

You were just, so...hungry.

And cold....why was it so cold? Why wasn't any of your clothes or gear keeping you just a little bit warm? it was always so humid, the few times you've been up here. Where did all of that heat go?

....

The sand beneath you was starting to turn red. What that your blood? It probably was. No. it definitely was. Whose blood would it be if not yours?

It's a shame really, if you knew you'd be dying, you would have taken your gloves off.

You probably could've still done it. There was a moment of stone cold realization where you realized you had just stepped out of the tunnels for the last time.

But it was too late now. you were shaking too much now to move, and even if you weren't, you were getting weaker colder, more disoriented, by the minute. And now, you couldn't even imagine having enough energy to burn on something so small.

...heh.

It was funny. Not really, but you found it humorous for some odd reason or another. Heh... To think. You've survived this long, longer than most your age, and yet, here we are. Dying alone of cold sand. Although, dying alone doesn't really bother you much. Who did you have to die with anyway?

Still, you would appreciate the comfort all the same.... oh well.

It is what it is, you supposed.

You coughed. It was getting harder to breath. You were getting colder, and the adrenaline was finally starting to slow.

Images of your life flashed before your eyes in no real order.

You didn't want to see them.

You were about to leave this life forever. You didn't want to think about everything you'd be leaving behind.

Although. It's mostly graves.

But even if it was only graves, those graves were easily the most precious things you'd be leaving.

You could only hope that yours would be close to theirs.

You could only pray, that the grave you were assigned would see a few drawing or painted handprints.

Maybe you'd even get a flower...

.

.

.

Your eyes shot open, only to see pitch black. A fresh new wave of that familiar adrenaline flowed through your body as your arms shot out in front of you, and to the sides. Something hard met your gloves. Something close. Something you were trapped in.

Fear struck through you like lighting, and you felt anger boil up in you in a way that it had never had before.

You couldn't think. You couldn't remember your name. Weren't you supposed to be dead? Had you survived? What was your assigned number? where were you?

If asked later, you would say you didn't know where this sudden strength came from. And that'd be right. You didn't. But for some reason, maybe your panic or maybe the overwhelming feeling that something was just wrong, but you found yourself acting like you were possessed.

And with strength that could only be described as inhuman, you pushed the wall in front of you, and squeezed your eyes shut when an unexpected sea of light flooded in.

"HAAA?"

Your eyes opened and you blinked.

You were standing on the edge of... Were you in a box?

You felt a slight sensation of floating, which seemed oddly familiar.

You also felt the slights sensation of confusion that made you stop dead in your tracks.

Was... was that a cat?

Why was it on fire?

Taglist:

@stupidwingboy

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #14: Telling

She set down her glass as she let her thoughts dissipate into the night like smoke. Her fingertips mimed flicking away a cigarette. Her breath left her lips in a fog of cold. She pushed herself out of her chair. She took her cane.

The night took her in with love, its moonlit caresses of dusky skin and white-greyed hair her birthright and relief from the warmth of alcohol in her veins. Something to cool her cold skin. Something to give her back some modicum of her mind and sanity. Just some. Her cane lit from its crystal head as she stepped off the path. Into the wood itself. Something that was, by all rights, incredibly deranged in all minds. Even in one that was partially drunk and very distracted by its own thoughts. The Twelveswood at night was not a friendly home. Even during the day things prowled in the darker edges of the forest, but in the night they woke and they wandered. It would be easy to call it hubris as she walked as if with an old friend. Monsters that kept just out of sight. Voidsent that crossed the thin veil. Old creatures in the dark woods that preyed upon anything that wasn’t themselves. The Shroud was a veritable goldmine for the unknown and the dangerous- Something that she supposed would be a frequent source of missing persons and dead thrillseekers. More than there were already. It was difficult to grapple with the nature of the wood they lived in and the reality that it, in some ways, very much did not want them there. Such it was that they heeded the Elementals and all that they could do so that they might have some peace. Her own experience as a Hearer notwithstanding on her bias. Her own experience with the other denizens definitely withstanding on her bias.

Rakaso dimmed the light of her cane as she stepped deeper into well-rooted and over the well-rotted of the trees. Her steps carried her with a surety unbefitting of her mind in that moment and most certainly of the path she’d chosen to take. But it wasn’t long, no, and it wasn’t far. Things on the edge of the light that came close as it dimmed. Things that kept themselves within the blind spot of her eyes. Things that crept in the bough above. A hand on her shoulder. The light died at the smell of decay embracing her like a friend.

Rakaso didn’t speak often of the things that lived in the deep woods. There was no story to tell. No warning to give. No words of wisdom that could truly prepare someone for the things which so oftentimes haunted life like a nightmare. How do you warn someone against the stranger at the crossroads, the beast which is not as it seems, the cloud of shadow that can hang over a river and fill you as a miasma? To most, these are tales. To others, explainable phenomena. To the last, they are neither. A fact of life. To be avoided like one avoids a tornado, a flood, a hail of fire from the sky. You simply hoped you did not encounter them. You took reasonable measures. And you prayed whatever death that came with them was merciful. She sometimes wished she was so lucky to be so unknowing. But in other ways she was glad. So it was as she stood in a clearing of the woods, a creek running by her feet, and a stump upon which sat a… dear friend of hers. A woman at first glance. Similar to her. Perhaps even kin, one might surmise, as they might see them in the woods. But it only took a moment’s breath to watch longer and see more. To watch skin rot off, eyes to fade, flesh to fold in ways that could only be described in words not able to be formed by teeth and tongue. Sometimes there were only a set of eyes opposite her, ilms away, an inky black darkness that only served to brighten the pale moonlit gold of Rakaso’s own. Sometimes there was nothing but flesh that barely managed to maintain a person-like shape. Sometimes there were only teeth. And they were laughing. Oh they were laughing and speaking and telling tales. Rakaso was, in a way one might find solace in the presence of a beast which had chosen not to slay them where they stood, enjoying herself. And the other across from her could only be called ecstatic in this.

It was telling that nothing intruded. No prying eyes. No hidden ears. They were stood in a clearing in the Twelveswood. In the cold, quiet night. Her light dead. Nothing laid in wait. The duskwight across from her licked her acrid lips. Her breath smelled of rot. The bones in her mouth smiled darkly with life. The blood on her face smelt of death. Her teeth poked up through the dirt like headstones. But they did not close around the two of them. They had shared too many graves for that.

[urwendii]

Part 7(alt): Mai Mae & Ossë Roadtrip in Middle Earth.

Look, it's disjointed as usual. I had Maedhros feelings. Rest of the serie can be found: here

It is a wonder really, that the fortress stands at all. Poised on jagged rocks, isolated in the middle of the ocean. Alone and solitary, a piece of the past mummified by distance, cradled by the winds ever changing.

They have to go there, somehow. It seems important. The journey is long and feels too much like pilgrimage to him. Ossë laughs, because the sea he says, the sea is singing loudly there. Mairon frowns and glares and glowers. He hates water and he especially hates isolated islands.

They enter Himring at dusk, bathed in Arien's golden rays, where shadows lengthen and threaten to catch Maedhros' mind.

It is not a good place to be. His former home in an otherwise sunken continent. Nothing has been displaced. It's eerily familiar in its ruin.

"The walls." The former Úmaia says, eyes narrowing as he leans forward and inspects the scratch paint. Fiery orange eyes find Maedhros, a hint of something almost like begrudge respect of a craftsman.

"They had to stand." Maedhros simply answers. Mairon nods, still unervingly watching him.

"No wonder we could not break you." He finally says. Maedhros smirks coldly. He has Sung himself his Will in Himring, to wistand time and evil. He wonders how him and Mairon can even stand within.

Ossë whines about something, Maedhros as usual ignores his antics.

"Why here then?"

The unpredictable Maia's attitude changes, his eyes holding Maedhros in. Sometimes he is rather sick of his two Maiar travel companions.

"There is evil here." Ossë states, voice going low, his words echoing with the otherworldlyness of his kind.

Maedhros says nothing. Lifts his right arm and wordlessly points his stump at Mairon without breaking eye contact with Ossë.

"Hilarious." Comes the deadpan reply but Ossë is cackling and Maedhros is genuinely smirking, self satisfied.

He asks again though, for even if joking, he is aware the only stain within these walls had been back then, himself and his brothers, the Oath churning in their blood.

Or maybe another sin of different nature. Maedhros had been weak and had kissed Fingon in his room, one winter night. Attached his lips to his cousin and doomed him to death by the same occasion. Sin of flesh of kin too close, he thinks, might be frown upon by those who are making the rules of Arda. Or used to.

"No. Ainur care not about bloodlines." Mairon's words hit Maedhros like a small tornado and scatters the rest of his thoughts. He cannot help the glance, a comfirmation toward the Maia. The other redhead simply rolls his eyes, then drags four fingers against the wall.

"If not this, then what?" He has learned long ago love can be a weapon, and it can break you. Or reforme you.

"Are you going to enlighten me on the nature of your puzzling conversation?" Ossë grumbles.

"Nelyafinwë fucking his cousin."

Maedhros let the words slide over him. Ossë blinks, then shrugs.

"Ah."

"That's not what Fishtail meant by evil."

Ossë's hiss at the insult only further Mairon's smirk.

"Surely it must be." Surely, because this is Maedhros' original sin. This infatuation, this desire, his inability to stay away from someone who should have, by all right, always remain happy. Not tied to whatever Maedhros had slowly become between the Exile and the Nirnaeth.

"He's mocking you."

He feels tired.

Ossë cackles, the sound of it like waves crashing against shores.

"I am, I am. But you shall remain here all the same. For healing. Or something. Lady Estë said."

He is sitting on the dusty floor, trying to block emotions.

"Lord Námo said the Oath had been voided." He remembers the burn of the Silmaril with enough clarity. "Himring was a beacon. My brothers they-"

He does not finish his sentence and bites his lips. "I could not go back here after the Tears. We had lost the lands." He thinks madly of a future where it had not, him back to his fortress, broken of heart but his people safe, his brothers managed. Fleetingly he pictures Dior's twins, safe and alive and maybe later-

Mairon press against his mind. Sharp and intent and Maedhros takes a sudden deep breath.

"The lands were ours. You would not have lasted. You could not have won."

He wants to think they could have.

"No. We only lost because Eönwë arrived."

They had been Doomed.

"You had killed."

Yes. And he did far worse later.

"I hated this place. I forced myself to ever look upon the Peaks." Then something blooms in the back of his mind. A small thread, threatening to unravel and slips between his fingers.

"It was punishment. I deserved the cold and the isolation."

"Did you?" Ossë chims, an almost gentle expression on his ever impish face.

"I had to go away. I wanted the Stones, it beckoned me. I had to."

He thinks of Fingon again. "I wanted him for myself. And I resented him for saving me. For forcing me to keep my word. But it was all me. Always. My own choices." The words are whispered, he stares inside the fireplace, dead and empty and tries to keep from breaking at the seams. Here, in this place again, he feels almost back into that old broken body, shoulder throbbing in constant pain, the Oath itching under his skin.

"Did you know," Mairon begins, somewhere to his right. Fire suddenly bursts into life in the hearth and cast long shadows on the walls. "That I wanted you dead."

Maedhros snorts.

"Melkor however," Mairon continues, his face showing the hint of a cutting smile, "designed a far cruellest idea. Foresight was not his strong suit, yet he guessed that allowing you back to the Noldor would later indirectly serve us."

Maedhros says nothing as he gazes upon the fire. At last, when a minute or two have passed and that even Ossë has taken a seat, he looks up and into Mairon's eyes and says with simple finality.

"I knew."

By the second Kinslaying, the irony of it had made him laugh in near madness as he buried his younger brothers.

"You should have killed me." He casually adds, after another pause.

"It was not for a lack of wanting to."

Outside Arien has vanished to let Tilion shows off.

"You two really have ruined the mood for the night."

[lilbagdermole]

Hello lilbadgermole, I looked at your Taang post about their dunebabies and it was so cute. I was wondering if the dunebabies have any names?

Thank you so much!!!

BTW, you guys can just call me Adri, instead of my full username, if you'd like ofc!

But as for the names:

Oldest Son (Airbender) [16]: Gyatso - Aang would want to honor his mentor and friend. Toph agrees (and also believes that it'll be omen that their first born would become just as good a bender as the deceased Gyatso once she discovers he's an airbender).

Second Son (Airbender) [14]: Tenzin - I have no explanation for this one other than the fact that I like the name (and he's one of the only good characters to come out of TLOK);

First Born Daughter (Airbender) [13]: Daiyu - It means 'black jade' in chinese. In Ancient China, jade is symbolic of purity, morality, integrity and wisdom; jade was understood to connect people with the ancestral spirits. I think it was a perfect fit to name their first girl of a mineral (Earth) that represented spirituality (Air). Note: This could be wrong and if anyone from chinese descent could confirm this, I would greatly appreciate it.

Second-Born Daughter (Earthbender) [10]: Ying - it means “brave beauty.” And Toph, after three tries, finally gives birth to an earthbender, and a little girl at that. Aang named her.

Third-Born Son (Earthbender) [8]: Bumi - though hesitant at first given Bumi had questioned Toph's self-proclaimed title as the best earthbender in the world, Toph had agreed that Aang could honor his late friend with their third son. Turns out the name suited their kid perfectly, as little Bumi was a menace the moment he learnt how to walk on his two feet.

Youngest Son (Airbender) [7]: Banzan - in Tibetan, this name means indestructible mountain. Toph had hoped her youngest kin would be an earthbender, just to equal out the playing field - her son, after a particularly nasty tantrum, nearly destroyed their home with a tornado. Though he couldn't move mountains, he carried himself with the same attitude as an earthbender.

Aang names all their children, though never without Toph's consent and approval. Toph never held any interest for meaningful names, all she concerned herself with was their well-being and making sure the six of her and Aang's offspring were in good shape and loved (she loves all of Aang's names and finds it endearing how much time and effort he places into finding the perfect name, though she would never be caught alive admitting it to him).

I thought really hard on these names! I read somewhere that Earth Kingdom names are based on Chinese names and Air Nation names are inspired by Tibetan culture.

[ask-de-writer]

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC  

(Part 67 of ?)  

18+ readers only  (sex scenes)

Return to the Master Story Index

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

or

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 67 of ? (Work in Progress)

by

De Writer

76884 words (story in progress)

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on   or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Twilight nodded her agreement and gestured towards the balance of her Palace of Friendship, offering, “As this is a State Visit, I shall give the whole Throne of Empire and their retinue lodging in my Palace.”

Princess Luna retired to a dressing room and emerged in her usual regalia and dressed sensibly for the upcoming work in Kin's hospital operating rooms. She smiled at Kin and Rarity, the twinkle of her eyes telling that she well knew what they were going to be doing. “Scoot, you two. The casualty train has already arrived. You have about an hour and a half before Kin will be needed in the Surgery.”

Arm in arm, they scooted away to the Carousel! Kin snickered as she brought in the outside chair. “Pink tornado prevention!”

Rarity, joining the game, took a bit of hay from the kitchen and made a stop block out of it. She put the pretty but stout pale yellow wood like piece into the window, preventing it from being opened.

With no other words, they both took the time for close and cuddly hug. When they broke, Rarity suggested, “Let's take care of your breasts first, my Love. You are going to be needed soon. If necessary, I can milk myself. Which would you prefer, my Dearest One, to be suckled or shall I hand milk you?”

For an answer, Kin simply pulled Rarity close and cradled her head to the prominent nipple of her right boob. With a sigh of pleasure, she reveled in the sheer delight of Rarity's lips and tongue while she eagerly and rhythmically sucked her demon lover's nipple deep into her mouth. Kin gently but firmly held Rarity in place while she adored the sensations of breast feeding her wonderful partner. In far too short a time, her right breast was emptied and she presented her left nipple for the same joyous ministrations.

Without interrupting Rarity's eager and pleasurable suckling, Kin picked her up and gently laid her cherished lover on their bed, where she joined her. Rather than getting into an active sexual session, they quietly cuddled and stroked each other.

Rarity, in a gentle voice, wanted to know, “My dearest one, we have been so amazingly lucky to find each other. As things stand, I have but one fear. As a spirit, you are near immortal. I am not. What will become of you, my Love, when I age and pass on?”

Holding her treasured one close, Kin lightly touched Rarity's nose as she replied, “You need not fear for me, sweet darling. It is I who fear for you. Do you want to age and die, my darling? Keeping you close and young for as long as you wish it is no more difficult than giving you the gift of milk.”

Rarity nodded slowly, ears intently forward as she thought. “I did not even think of such a thing, my wonderful Kin. That can truly be either blessing or curse. I wish that I had either Marchhare or Princess Luna here to talk it over with. They both have been among mortals for ages and yet have kept their deep caring for them.”

As Kin was snuggling close and saying, “I understand, my treasure. Princess Luna would be my choice, having worked alongside her. Perhaps Marchhare would be better, for having lived more closely with pon . . . um, HORSES! Rom call themselves horses, don't they?”

There was a careful tapping at their front door!

Kin looked up alertly and exclaimed, “Love, get our Knives of Honor and our Golden Talons! That is the whole Throne of Empire, all three of them! They have an honor guard of eighteen gryphons!”

Rarity's magic reached out and brought the elegant cases unerringly to them. Kin's magic got them both dressed quickly and settled their medalions into place and girded on their Knives.

Kin paced for the door to let their guests in! Rarity dove into the kitchen and called out, “Twenty one of them?”

Kin returned, “Make that twenty two! Princess Luna just landed to join them!”

Kin opened the door and three Gryphons of Royal bearing and garb stepped in. As Kin was starting to bow to them, they all three, went to a deep crouch, wings spread and crests raised and spread to show honor.

The Empress of the Gryphon Empire rose, her crest going to a gentle smile as she greeted, “Kindred Spirit, it is we who are honored by your presence.”

Indicating her Two Strong Wings of the Throne, she asked, We have come to request of you yet another favor. Would you be willing to allow us of the Throne to watch your amazing healing? Princess Luna has said that this is your decision alone. That the Hospital is yours.”

While they were anxiously awaiting Kin's answer, Rarity emerged from the kitchen bearing trays that she set out on the Carousel's counters.

“Your Highnesses, the flying to get here must have been hungry work. We have laid on a small refreshment for you. We have a salmon, a pork roast, one of beef, and a substantial turkey for you. I do not know what you enjoy in drinks, so I made up an urn of Rom Black tea.”

As she was preparing to bow, the Empress raised a claw and said, crest smiling but serious, “No, my good Knife Bearers. It is We of the Throne who are honored by your presence and service. We bow to YOU, not the other way about.

“This feast is indeed most welcome. You are correct. It was hungry work, getting here.”

Kin had listened with care, using her skills only to assure herself that all that was said was honest. She made up her mind. “It will be my honor to have you of the Throne observe our healing work. But first, this is our home and you are most welcome guests. Allow us to serve you, so that this good food does not go to waste.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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Tagged: FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC, Part 67 of ?, age restricted 18+, MLP Fan Fiction, Written by De Writer, WORK IN PROGRESS.

[theworldvsyoshiko]

Presenting the graduating class of 5507:

This is a big one, and it's gonna really hurt. This doesn't just represent the core of the colony's fighting ability, but the kids who handled a lot of the day-to-day work. Also it's going to break Yoshiko's heart, because every single one of these were under 13 when they showed up, so she adopted them all. I mean, you can adopt people over 13, but that's kinda the cutoff point I set for now. Anyway, yeah, two sons and three daughters ready to head out into the world.

Also? Not a single missing limb among them. Stein's missing a finger and a toe, but that barely counts.

Stein, despite being paralyzed when he first showed up, missing a chunk of his childhood as a result, and needing genetic modification before he was even safe to keep around, has become basically the adult in the room when Yoshiko's not around. He's great with a gun and just about single-handedly responsible for taming and controlling all of the colony's war animals. As many animals as that is, and as few robots as we have (more on that later), he's probably a bigger help in a fight than Yoshiko herself. He has 102 kills.

Who's gonna train our huge pile of war animals once he leaves? Good fucking question. Literally might have to eat some of them.

Also Yoshiko bit his toe so hard that it bled once, so that was fun. Thanks to his weird appearance, it's rare for him to have many friends in the colony, but I'm sure as hell gonna miss him.

Wester has been here since she was 4 years old. She might be the graduate who's lived here the longest? Which I guess might explain why she's close with almost everybody. She blew up a mech cluster with a synthetic tornado that one time. She's solid with a gun, the best artist around, and just generally competent or better at most things. Oh, and she and Manny did basically all the gardening, so that'll be fun to lose.

Thanks to the overlap of her artistic development with the colony's peak rabbit population, she made a lot of sculptures depicting people sterilizing rabbits. And rabbits getting eaten by predators. And rabbits getting shot by the colony's enemies. I think that keeping dozens of free-roaming rabbits around when you have small kids is maybe a bad idea.

Manny has only been here since she was 10, and upon turning 13 she decided that she's a pacifist. Fortunately, she's good at basically everything that isn't combat or mining, and you know what? Having a really good doctor waiting back at the base, who's almost guaranteed to not have a fresh bullet wound, has proven pretty handy after a lot of firefights.

The whole 'adoption counts people as Kin rather than Sons/Daughters' thing struck here, in that the game recognizes that Manny and Cisneros have some kind of familial relationship, but doesn't consider it close enough to prevent romance. So those two are dating.

Tiger is, it must be noted, ugly as fuck.

You'd think this would be a bigger deal than it is. Not only is most of the colony willing to overlook this, but she did a lot of research, which meant a lot of time sitting by Yoshiko and chatting, so they've usually been pretty close. She's also a gun-obsessed weirdo, so Yoshiko's trend of adoring small violent children continues.

Tiger's probably the third-best combatant in the colony after Yoshiko and Stein, and her accomplishments include: once snapped and did about half of the drugs in the storeroom all at once, walked away addicted to a couple of things, and spent the next year or so fucking miserable.

Cisneros has, for whatever reason, been Yoshiko's best friend pretty much since the day he arrived. She adores her weird blue cat son. Whereas he's like the one person in this list who isn't a national-level expert in multiple fields of endeavor, and he's not very good in a fight, so I will miss him the least.

Bye, kids. I'll miss you. (Except Cisneros.)