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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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Do you have any ‘rare’ supernatural creatures?

Writing Ideas: Rare Supernatural Creatures

Bokkenrijders: Little is known about these figures from Dutch folklore, who called the name of the devil to summon flying goats that they would ride through the air, to practice untold acts of mischief. The name — "goat riders" in Dutch — was applied in the 18th century to bands of robbers that wild rumors described as the terrifying, flying goat riders of legend. Men suspected of being bokkenrijders were tortured and executed, with accusations condemning 31 people from a single municipality in Belgium between 1744 and 1776, the Belgian website Flanders Today reported.

Draugr: The resurrected corpses of Viking warriors, were terrifying, zombie-like mythical creatures that roamed the world searching for their victims. They could be clearly recognized by the stench of rotting flesh and their deathly black or blue skin. The draugr possessed staggering strength, could increase their body size as they wished, and haunted the dreams of the living. In some versions of the myth, these undead mythological creatures were also thought to have several magical powers such as shapeshifting, premonitions, and weather control. The only motivation for these bloodthirsty creepy creatures was to slaughter any living being, whether humans or livestock, to satiate their thirst for flesh and blood. The draugr condition appeared to be contagious, like modern ideas of zombies, as those killed by the draugr would resurrect themselves as these creatures. The draugr were pretty indestructible, and the only way to kill them was through decapitation, incineration of the body, and discarding of the ashes in the sea.

Finfolk: In the Orkney Islands, an archipelago off the northeastern coast of Scotland, people once whispered of the Finfolk, a tribe of sorcerers and shapeshifters who were skilled at boating and who could bend the ocean to their will. Finfolk could live underwater or on land, though their permanent home was usually described as a marvelous city at the bottom of the ocean, and they would venture into towns and villages to steal humans as husbands or wives, according to Orkneyjar, a nonprofit website describing Orkney history and folklore.

Futakuchi-onna: This eerie creature looks like an ordinary woman, but has a ravenous second mouth on the back of her head, hidden by her hair. The mouth is insatiable; it gorges on any food it can find, fed by animated strands of the woman's hair, and usually appears as a punishment afflicting people who are extremely greedy or stingy, according to Yokai.com, an online database of Japanese ghosts and monsters.

Gashadokuro: Gigantic mythological creatures amalgamated from the bones of human skeletons in Japanese mythology. In situations of mass death, such as famines or wars, individuals could not receive proper funeral rites and thus were unable to move on after death. As their bodies decayed, their souls became twisted with wrath and resentment towards the living. Their souls and bones merged into one enormous being called a Gashadokuro, translated as the “starving skeleton.” Terrifyingly silent, aside from the unnerving chattering of their teeth, these mythical creatures skulked around deep in the night, looking for their prey. Finding their victim, they decapitated them and drank their blood. A Gashadokuro would continue terrorizing the night until the resentment of every soul residing within the creature had dwindled, no longer animating the skeletal monster.

Mare: In Norse mythology, a mare was a demonic spirit who had the ability to induce nightmares in sleeping people. During the night, this mythological creature would sneak into a person’s home through their keyhole. Climbing upon the chest of the sleeping individual, they would provoke terrifying nightmares based upon the sleeper’s fears and anxieties. Their victim would experience a heavy weight on their chest, awareness of a dark presence, and find themselves unable to move or wake up, an ancient mythological explanation of what is now known as sleep paralysis. A mare was considered a female demon who was typically depicted as either a youthful, beautiful woman or an old, hideous hag.

Nuckelavee: The Scottish Nuckelavee is a "skinless centaur" with a snout like a pig's that expels gusts of steam, a single enormous eye, and arms that drag upon the ground, according to the "Encyclopedia of Fairies in World Folklore and Mythology" (McFarland, 2013). It lives in the ocean and can kill people by breathing on them, leading them to waste away and eventually die.

Penanggalan: In Malay myth, a Penanggalan was once a mortal woman who performed witchcraft and black magic. A popular version of the myth states that one woman agreed to become vegetarian for 40 days in exchange for youthful beauty. Ultimately, she broke her pact and was cursed to become a flesh-eating Penanggalan. During the day, she resembled an ordinary woman, but at night, her head would detach from her body, floating around with her trailing entrails. This disembodied figure flew around searching for sustenance in the form of pregnant women and infants, draining them of their blood; those fed on by this vampiric creature ended up contracting a fatal disease. Returning to her abode, a Penanggalan would soak herself in vinegar to shrink her organs back into her body. A Penanggalan, therefore, could be recognized during the day by this tell-tale smell of vinegar.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

List of Legendary Beasts & Monsters

Medieval Beasts (1) (2)

You can find more in the sources. Once you've chosen your preferred creature/s as story inspiration, doing more research on them is advisable. Hope this helps with your writing!

#anonymous #creatures #character development #writeblr #writing reference #literature #dark academia #mythology #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #light academia #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing resources

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onelinerbust · 9 months ago

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He was a prick of a boyfriend for my stepdaughter, and I heard how he questioned to her how the fuck I got so big. Well, that piece of shit really got some nerve nailing my stepdaughter with me just several rooms away and dared to talk smack about me, so of course I find it fair that I took his body for a spin as a revenge, in exchange of keeping him in a coma-induced state in my body as I dabbled on some of the ancient rites I learned from my forefathers

The virility is astounding, and the way his clothing always tightly fitted this physique is such a turn-on. I even invested in some better gear as 3 months inside of him, I didn't see any reason for me to get back to my body.

Of course I also stopped seeing my daughter because it's weird but it only serves me more freedom to explore this body and places I never visited before with this trusted motorcyle of mine. I truly cannot see a life when I'm not a fucking hot rider stud, my motorcycle roaring through the street while my adrenaline pumped to the fullest with all this excitement

My first ever follower request! Thanks guys, feel free to give more and we'll see whether or not we can work on it

#request #male body swap #revenge body swap #male takeover

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wrldhoon · 1 month ago

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sigils & sin (m)

01 ── .✦

⋆˚★ pairing: enhypen ༝ fem.ᐟreader

word count — 3.7k

౨ৎ masterlist

synopsis ⊹ ࣪ ˖ war. power. loss. love. secrets. sin. you were trained to do many things. that was why you chose to be here. the dragon-riding quadrant of the notorious Veirthorne Academy. they trained you to fight, to win, to survive. yet, they never taught you to be human.

genre(s) ᯓ fantasy, angst, slow-burn, multiple love interests, smut

⤷ warnings: explicit content, violence, death, graphic depictions of injury, suggestive content

ꨄ︎ note: part one is officially out!! i’m so excited to write this and share it on here.. honestly, its mostly for my own self indulgence. idk how long this series is gonna take me but i will do my best to update regularly !

01 — rite of ruin

leather.

it sticks to your body like second skin, and Gods is it fucking annoying. your movement feels limited in the clothes your mother had forced you to adorn. “it’s for your protection,” she says.

one wrong move and a blade could slice right through your skin. protection my ass.

today was the day. the day you would leave home without knowing if you would survive to see the sunset. for some reason, that thought did not terrify you as much as you thought it would. you were determined to cross that bridge and take your rightful spot at Veirthorne. the hard part was making it all the way there.

“do you think you’re ready?” your sister. her short, dark hair and amber eyes. they bore into you like she was trying to figure you out. trying to dig deeper into your soul and uncover your hidden truths. you felt it. with a resigned sigh, you turned to face her.

“of course i am. it would be devastating if i wasn’t, would it not?” your smile felt forced. it looked more like a grimace than anything. you reminded yourself that this was the last time you will ever get to see them. the two people you had spent your entire life with. “don’t worry. i’ll make it,” it felt more like a promise to yourself than to them.

“don’t forget to write to us. every month. tell us everything and Gods, if you meet a boy, please-” you let out a groan. “no relationships, remember?”

you tightened the laces of your boots before straightening up. you burned the images of your mother and sister into your memory. you could tell they were doing the same. you pulled them both into your arms. the scent of old parchment and lavender invaded your nose.

you wanted to memorize the feeling of their bodies pressed against yours.

their smell.

as if you would never get to experience it again. the thought made your heart ache. the folded up picture stuffed in your boot served as a gentle reminder of who you were surviving for. what you were willing to sacrifice to become a rider.

you couldn’t afford to disappoint them. not now, not ever.

the journey to Veirthorne Academy was a strenuous one. you had arrived on foot with nothing but the clothes on your body. not that you’d need anything more. you approach the large group of cadets wearing black.

rider cadets.

there were a few hundred of you, some staring at the large stone staircase leading to, what some would call, your inevitable doom. you waited for the rush of anxiety to consume you, but it never came. you were either too cocky or had already accepted your fate early. your eyes drifted upwards, noticing the row of people at the very top.

dragon riders. they talked amongst themselves, some staring back down at you. a speck of blonde catches your attention. sharp eyes that stared into the mass of people below him, like dirt beneath his shoe. his arms were crossed over his chest, the soft muscle of his biceps flexing every time the wind blew a little too hard. his eyes met yours, and you watched as the corner of his lips turned up.

he was smirking at you like he was challenging you.

mocking you.

that irked you. you quickly turned away as a voice boomed through the cliffs.

“cadets, welcome to Veirthorne Academy. you have been chosen by fate to be here. the rest is in your hands. to become a rider, you must survive. you must learn to adapt, to fight, and to win. fear is your greatest enemy. thus, your first trial: crossing the parapet. the first of many, yet it is the most important one. it weeds out the weak. you fail, you die. if you wish to step foot inside the rider’s quadrant, you must survive this trial. we will begin calling names,” he was one of the professors, you assumed. jet black hair with grey strands peeking out from underneath. he commanded attention, earned it without having to try.

with a nod of his head, the blonde from earlier steps forward. he began calling out names of the cadets, one by one. his voice. it was powerful, yet oddly soothing. it almost felt like a trap, like a siren serenading you towards your death. he had this odd way of captivating you, and you were sure you weren’t the only one.

the cadets began advancing up the stairs before disappearing once they reached the top. as the first handful of people climbed the steps, a scream was heard.

it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

a few cadets had stopped moving. then, another scream. it was bone chilling. the way their voices faded away, their bodies falling past the thick, dark fog of the chasm below.

your head snapped up when you heard voices. they were arguing. you couldn’t properly make out what they were saying before another body flew past the edge of the cliff. she had been pushed off the bridge. then, another one. and another.

they were dropping like flies.

your blood ran cold. you realized then it was not just a battle against the wind, or the fear, or the bridge itself. it was a battle against each other. it was all fair game. as long as you made it across, nobody else mattered. that was what they meant by survival. that was what they meant when they said ‘weed out the weak’.

it was kill or be killed.

your were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard your name. you looked up, eyes locking with the owner of the voice. he still had that look on his face—the one that challenged you. the one that dared you to even plant one foot on that staircase. in that moment, all you wanted to do was punch that smug look right off of his handsome face. then, his lips moved, “scared?”

he mouthed it. he didn’t say it out loud, because it was just meant for you. you scowled at that. your attention turned to the steps that lay before you. you were not about to let some egotistical pretty boy psych you out. you stepped forward, making your way up the steps when your shoulder was met with the wall. you hissed in pain, turning towards the person who had ran past you. she looked over her shoulder, bright blue eyes fiery with hatred and disdain.

“if you think you’re gonna make it across this thing alive at that pace, you might as well just kill yourself now.”

that pissed you off. she eyed you for a brief moment before rushing up the steps again. Gods, you wanted to push her off, too. with a new found anger, you ran up the stairs after her.

once you reached the above platform, you spotted the cadets beginning to make their way across the bridge. it was small—small enough to make a person to walk with one foot in front of the other. the air was colder at this altitude. the wind was stronger. it blew past your cheeks in painful brushes, forcing you to squint your eyes.

it felt abnormal. the powerful winds, the fog, the chill of the air, the rain. it was all on purpose. you knew it.

“parapet isn’t gonna get any shorter, cadet” that fucking voice. you felt like your head was about to explode in anger.

men. pathetic, useless, annoying men.

you ignored his comment, making your way towards the edge of the platform. if you died now, you would never have to see him again. if you survived, you might have to deal with him for the rest of your life. in this moment, you almost wanted to pray for Morvak to take you now and choose death.

you flinch when you heard another blood curdling scream, just a few feet in front of you. their foot had slipped. their arms were barely clinging onto the parapet for dear life.

they begged.

they cried.

you watched as the person behind them stared in horror. the decision—to save them or to save yourself—would haunt them forever. you could see the hesitation in their movement before they stepped forward, wedging their foot beneath the person’s arms.

they were going to kill them.

your eyes squeezed shut as the person fell. just like that, they were gone. nothing more than a memory—one you probably would never forget. you had no time to waste. you had to make it across. you decided then, no matter what, you will cross this damned bridge.

what makes you a monster makes you a rider.

you couldn’t forget that now.

you took your first step onto the platform. it was slippery. the winds were unforgiving and the fog only became worse with time. you could barely see any further than a hundred feet in front of you, but you could hear.

you heard every shout, every cry, every pained grunt, every plea.

you had to block it out. the longer you dwelled on it, the higher your chances of death. the first few steps were the hardest. getting over the fear, the never-ending thoughts, and the voices. the voices of the people around you trying to survive.

his voice.

it pushed you to try even harder.

ten minutes into your walk, you felt a presence behind you. “please, wait!”

you froze, your foot nearly slipping off the edge before you leaned forward and caught yourself (barely). you looked over your shoulder. it was a girl. she looked about your age. dark, ebony colored hair slicked back into a braid which probably looked a lot better before she got up here. “please, walk with me. i— i can’t do it alone. please, i don’t want to die.”

you could see the tears in her eyes. whether they were from fear or the sting of the cold air, you couldn’t tell. shit, you had a decision of your own to make now. you had no time to think. your hands reached for your belt, quickly unbuckling the clasp and yanking it off before tightening one end to your wrist. you reached back to her with your other hand, urging her forward. “come on, hurry!”

you could see the hope reignite in her eyes at your words. she began creeping forward, one foot in front of the other. before you could grab her hand, her body flew forward.

your eyes shot open, watching as she slipped and wrapped her arms around the platform. you looked up, locking eyes with the person behind her. the boy smirked at you.

it was dark. it was evil.

all you saw was red. he stepped over her, charging at you at full speed. how the hell was he able to move like that on this thing?

your body reacted before your mind could catch up. you crouch down, swinging your legs over the edge before draping the belt over the bridge. you did a silent prayer that the Gods would be on your side, just this once, before scooting yourself off the edge, gripping onto the belt with all the strength you had in you. your body dropping off the edge caught the male off guard, his foot catching on the raised bump of the leather before tumbling to the darkness below.

you had to move—now. panic began to seep into your chest. you tightened your core, kicking your legs to try to throw yourself back over the bridge.

it wasn’t working.

your fingers were beginning to slip, the wind biting at your skin as if it were coaxing you to fall. this was it. in your futile attempt to save some random girl, you had brought yourself to your own demise. before you knew it, you felt a cold hand wrap around your wrist. your eyes shot open, looking up at the person above you.

it was her. she had managed to climb back onto the platform, and now she was trying to save you. “i got you, fuck, hold on!”

with the remaining strength you had, you let go of one end of the belt to grab at the overhang. you managed to pull yourself up with her help. your hands bled, dirt and rocks wedged in between each burning cut.

once you found your balance, you quickly tied the other end of the belt to her arm. you both locked eyes before you gave her a nod. no words were needed. the two of you were going to cross the parapet together.

you owed her your life, and she owed you hers.

you don’t know how long it had been since you started the cross. it felt like the bridge was never ending. through the thick fog, you saw it. you saw the other end. you quickly looked back at the girl behind you. you hadn’t even bothered getting her name. that wasn’t important right now. you needed to get to the perch.

you both did.

determination flooded your system, pulling her along just a little bit faster.

‘almost there,’ your jaw tightened. your arm came up to shield your eyes from the tiny rocks and dust flying towards your face, leaving tiny scratches against your flushed cheeks.

your body collapsed the minute your foot touched land. you were cold, drenched in rain, your hands felt raw and bloody from gripping onto the jagged stone and rough fabric of your belt. you turned over to sit on your rear, reaching to undo the leather tied around both of your wrists. the minute you were unbound, the girl tackled you. her arms were wrapped so tightly around your mid section, you felt the air get squeezed out of your lungs. not that there was much in there to begin with after that trek.

“thank you. Gods, thank you. i don’t think i would’ve made it without you,” you could feel her tears wetting your neck. your heart was pounding so loud you felt it in your ears. you gently pushed her off of you, hand landing on her shoulder. “i could say the same about you.”

you offered a gentle smile. it was strained, but it was genuine. the fatigue was catching up to you. the pain in your hands and ribs began to spike, the adrenaline wearing off. “c’mon, there’s healers stationed over there.”

you managed to get up off the ground, albeit your legs wobbly. you felt a pair of eyes watching you. you turned to your right and all of a sudden, it felt like the Gods were punishing you. there he stood, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. he glanced at the girl beside you, who was talking about who knows what, before his attention was back on you. there was no smirk, no challenging stare, nothing. he just… looked. before you could question it, he looked away and turned his focus back to the parapet.

standing.

waiting.

anticipating.

you sat on the edge of the bed, watching as the healer tended to your wounds. he was quiet. you could tell he was relatively new to this—maybe he had just gotten to Veirthorne the year before you. his movements were calculated, but slightly hesitant. almost like he was scared of hurting you any more than you already were. he secured the gauze around your hand with a tug, tucking the corner into place.

suddenly, he peered up at you through his bangs. his hair was a deep shade of brown, a bit messy from running around tending to injured cadets. he locked eyes with you. you noticed the way his cheeks were slightly pink, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed dryly. “can you take off your shirt?”

you froze.

what?

was this guy seriously asking you to strip? you didn’t even know his name and he—

“your ribs. i need to.. treat you. there. on your torso. under your clothes. can’t do that with your clothes on, right?” you could tell he was embarrassed. maybe he took note of how creepy his initial question sounded, too. hesitantly, you nodded. “yeah, okay.”

you looked at him, your fingers reaching for the bottom of your top, “can i at least get a blanket or something if i’m gonna be totally nude in front of.. everyone?”

his eyes widened, choking on his own spit as you started to pull off your shirt. “no! not totally nude! just— just the shirt! keep your bra on!”

your eyes widened, ears burning at the sudden realization. “fuck, sorry, right. keeping it on.” once you had managed to wiggle out of your blouse, you placed it neatly beside you. you watched as he scooted closer in his seat, eyes dialed in on the bruising that was beginning to form across your stomach.

his hand reached up, fingers pressing into your skin. you let out a soft hiss at the feeling. he mumbled a quick apology before grabbing something off the table. you couldn’t help but watch him as he worked.

his hands were rough, calloused from all the hard work he’s probably done, but they worked gently. his hair looked soft and thick. it was long enough to fall over his eyes, but short enough to not tickle his neck. his eyes carried the same kindness that his hands did.

his hands. Gods, you kept coming back to those. they were big, covering up almost half of your mid section with just one alone. you didn’t know if it was your lack of sex the past few years or what, but watching him work with his hands made you feel.. nervous. hot? sweaty? turned on? completely out of your fucking mind?

you wondered if he could feel the suddenly increase in heat radiating off of you now, too. before you knew it, you spoke up, “what’s your name?”

his hands froze, his head lifting with a jolt. he was taken aback by the question, like he wasn’t expecting to hear it from you. you both stared at each other. you could practically see and hear the gears slowly turning in his head before he cracked a shy smile, “it’s jake. or jaeyun, whichever one you want. and you are..?”

jake. you’ll remember that. definitely will.

you returned the smile, “y/n.”

you spent the rest of your time in silence, watching intently as he fixed you up. he stood up once he was finished, dusting off imaginary dirt from his pants.

“good as new. you’re lucky. your ribs weren’t broken, but they’re definitely bruised pretty badly. it won’t fully heal for a few more days, so take it easy at least tonight. oh—you should head over to sorting, soon too. i think the last few cadets are making their way over the parapet now.”

you slipped your shirt back on. the cold, damp fabric made you shiver. it helped cool you down, though. you turned to him one last time, “thank you, jake.”

he tilted his head at you, a cheeky grin on his face. you’ll remember his smile too. “you’re welcome. i’m sure i’ll see you again in a few days.. hopefully less beat up than today, right?”

you both snickered at that.

‘cause it definitely wasn’t true.

with a final wave, you made your way over to the main courtyard. you had made it. you weren’t a rider yet, but you had survived the first trial.

now, you could only hope you’ll survive the ones that come next.

you stood among the group of cadets, scanning the number of people around you. compared to this morning, there was maybe a third of the people left. all of those bodies at the bottom of the chasm, never to be seen again. their lives cut short by greed, fate, and weakness.

you could not let that be you. standing on the grounds of the rider quadrant did not mean you were safe. death lurked behind every corner. Gods, you could die tomorrow. the person beside you, with the broken arm and bruised cheek, he could die tomorrow too. your throat ran dry.

you couldn’t let these thoughts consume you.

this was what being a rider meant. accepting death. allowing it to sink so deeply into your bones that it stops hurting.

that it feels normal.

your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a voice. the same commanding tenor that you had heard before climbing up those steps. it clicked then. he wasn’t a professor after all.

“you have survived the deadliest walk you will ever take in this lifetime. you have proven yourself to be worthy of the title.. as cadet. from this point on, you will begin to train. you will spar, you will learn, and you will grow stronger. only then can you become a rider. dragons do not settle for weak humans. they kill them.”

halrik dhraven—commanding general of the rider’s quadrant. you had heard his name plenty of times before in the letters your cousin had sent you. it was never good, though. you felt your muscles tense, a dull ache spreading through your body.

the fatigue was beginning to catch up to you.

“you will now be assigned your wings. once you have been sorted, you will be placed into a squad. these squads are not just your peers, but they are your family. you will work, sleep, live, and fight alongside one another. treat it as such.”

as he finished is speech, a woman stepped up to the front. her pure, white hair was styled in an intricate bun atop her head. she reeked of wealth and power. she began calling out names, assigning each person to their respectful groups.

“y/n l/n, first wing.”

at the sound of your name, you glanced in the direction in which they pointed you. you walked over, immediately taking note of the girl you had survived the parapet with. she was here, too. relief flooded your system.

at least you had one familiar face you could rely on.

“cadet l/n. flame section, second squad.” the woman’s voice was cold, her gaze piercing. “you all will be under section leader ysa. please acquaint yourself with your fellow cadets, as well as squad leader yang. from now on, these are the hands which you will put your lives in to.”

you hear the crunch of gravel, alerting you of the approaching presence. then, you saw it.

blonde hair.

the slight quirked up corner of his lips and those eyes. the eyes that locked with yours right before he tried to kill you.

yeah, kill you.

you knew from the moment you got up to the platform that it was strange, the weather, but seeing him afterwards made it all click.

it was him.

the wind, the rain, the fog. all of it.

him.

you held his gaze as he approached your group, stopping directly in front of you. your fists clenched at your sides. you could feel one of your stitches pop open, but you didn’t care.

anger. fury. hatred.

it consumed you.

he noticed and it only egged him on. he bit his lower lip, that stupid look never leaving his face. he was enjoying this.

“well, would you look at that?”

that fucking voice.

you were screwed.

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docboom · 1 month ago

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My official Space Riders ocs!

Name: Vixen Snowfrost Species based on design: Arctic Fox Gender: Female Bio: Vixen Snowfrost is an heiress to her kingdom. The planet is mostly winter all year round and it rarely gets spring, summer and fall. She has ice powers or cryokinesis which is a rare gift among her people. Some say that her great 5x grandmother was the first welder of the ice. Team name/Role: Team Aurora (captain) Home Planet: Planet Name: Cryovelle Type: Ice Planet Environment: Cryovelle is a vast, glacial world of shimmering frost plains, towering crystal spires, and dancing auroras that stretch across its skies every night. The planet’s surface is layered with ancient ice sheets, some of which sing with resonant vibrations when struck—believed to be remnants of a lost civilization buried beneath. The atmosphere is cold but breathable, and light from Cryovelle’s twin moons refracts through the ice, giving the world a dreamlike, prismatic glow. Inhabitants: Cryovelle is home to the Frostren, a graceful, resilient species of arctic animal-folk like Vixen. They're known for their natural affinity for cryomancy (ice magic), and most undergo sword training from a young age to honor the tradition of the Glacier Sentinels—elite protectors of the realm. Culture: Honor, precision, and serenity are core values. Ritual duels in aurora-lit amphitheaters are both a martial test and a spiritual rite. Captains like Vixen are seen as both warriors and wisdom-keepers. Notable Landmarks: The Crystal Hollow – A massive frozen cavern where the planet’s energy is strongest; many Frostren journey here to awaken their elemental abilities. The Mirror Spire – A tower of reflective ice used for celestial navigation and meditation. Auroracrest Citadel – A snowy stronghold perched on a cliff that serves as Cryovelle’s capital and training ground for swordmasters.

Name: Midnight Star Home Planet: Crystallara Species based on design: Night Light dragon (HTTYD) Gender: Female Bio: Midnight Star is the youngest of her family in a crystallized-like home. Role: Team Medic/Scout Planet Name: Crystallara Type: Luminous Crystal World Environment: Crystallara is a breathtaking world of jagged gemlike mountain ranges, glowing caves, and skies scattered with floating crystal islands. The entire surface sparkles under a twilight sky that never fully brightens or darkens, casting an eternal dusk across the land. Bioluminescent flora grows along the edges of crystalline lakes, and glowing star-motes drift gently in the air, attracted to emotional energy. The world pulses with quiet, magical harmony—especially potent at night. Inhabitants: The Lunari, a rare race of sleek, light-sensitive dragon-like beings with smooth, crystalline scales, call Crystallara home. Midnight Star, being a Night Light-inspired dragon, is one of them. The Lunari are deeply connected to the magical ley-lines of the planet, allowing them to draw on starlight and crystal energy for flight, stealth, and beam-based powers. Young Lunari, like Midnight Star, are nurtured in family clusters that live in glittering, cave-like sanctuaries, grown organically from the planet’s living crystal. Culture: Crystallara’s society reveres light balance—the interplay between shadow and glow. Lunari raise their young in protective, radiant caverns where each crystal "sings" with the ambient feelings of those nearby. Emotions subtly influence the environment, so meditation and harmony are key cultural values. Notable Landmarks: The Prism Vale – A vast crystalline forest where young dragons learn to fly, hide, and connect with the planet's energies. The Shardspire – A towering monolith said to amplify the thoughts of those who perch at its peak under the starlit sky. Lumenheart Caverns – Midnight Star’s home, a family dwelling carved deep into a glowing crystal formation that hums with warmth and light.

Name: Kitty Softclaws and Obsidian Paws Relation: Sisters (Obsidian has two tails. It's a genetic mutation and based on a cat yokai) Home Planet: Nekoroku Species based on: Tuxedo Cat Breed Gender: Female Bio: Both Kitty and Obsidian are twins and are very skilled Roles: Kitty Softclaws – Scout & Spy Obsidian Paws – Chef & Info-Gatherer Planet Name: Nekoroku Type: Hidden, Forested Feudal World Environment: Nekoroku is a secretive, mist-shrouded planet where lush bamboo forests, cherry blossom groves, and sacred mountains dominate the terrain. The land is divided into ancient territories governed by noble clans of feline beings, with each region preserving traditions passed down for centuries. The skies are often clouded by rolling mists, giving the world an ethereal, dreamlike quality. Massive koi ponds, stone bridges, and glowing lantern paths connect hidden villages and floating shrines tucked into the landscape. Technology exists, but it’s disguised as ancient magic or “spiritcraft,” blending seamlessly with the cultural setting. Inhabitants: The Nekomura, an intelligent species of catfolk resembling elegant breeds like tuxedo cats, are renowned for their agility, sharp wit, and mastery of stealth, culinary arts, and information flow. They dress in flowing space-kimonos embroidered with clan symbols and woven with reactive fabrics that shimmer or cloak depending on light. Kitty Softclaws and Obsidian Paws come from the Yoru Clan, known for its specialization in espionage, shadow travel, and silent communication. Culture: Nekoroku values balance: between action and observation, flavor and discipline, tradition and adaptation. Cooking is a spiritual practice—believed to align one’s chi with the universe. Information is treated like gold, and those who can gather it without being seen or heard are highly respected. The society operates under the Veil Pact, an agreement among the clans to keep their world’s location hidden from the galaxy at large—known only to those born under the Five Moons of Nekoroku. Notable Landmarks: The Whispering Grove – A sacred forest where sound vanishes, used for training elite spies. Moonclaw Market – An underground, ever-shifting network of food stalls and informants; Obsidian Paws knows every secret recipe and back alley. The Hidden Pagoda – A teleporting castle that phases in and out of the material plane, said to appear only to those pure of purpose or skilled in shadow arts. Shadow Petal School - Where spies learn to glide silently through bamboo corridors and vanish with a single leap. Kitsu Broth Temple - Where recipes are encoded with secret messages and herbs act as memory enhancers. The tea and meals aren’t just food—they’re layered with coded knowledge, emotional calibration, and mild truth serum (for enemies, of course).

Space Riders Belongs to @onyxonline

#onyxonline #space riders au #space riders oc

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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Why do you think the targaryens were unable to get dragons to hatch after the Dance?

Simple answer: because they broke the magic that sustained them.

Longer answer:

The Dance of the Dragons was a civil war that didn’t just destroy the Targaryen dynasty’s power—it shattered the delicate magical ecosystem that allowed dragons to thrive. Here’s why that matters:

Too many dragons died at once. Magic in Westeros is not infinite—it ebbs and flows like a tide. Dragons are magical creatures, and their existence is tied to larger magical forces. During the Dance, over a dozen dragons were killed violently, some in horrific ways. That much concentrated death likely caused a magical rupture, draining or destabilizing whatever ambient power was sustaining the species.

The bond between dragon and rider was desecrated. Targaryens turned dragons against each other. They forced them to fight in civil war—siblings killing siblings, dragons turning the skies into blood and fire. That betrayal of their own kind may have damaged the spiritual or mystical link between Targaryens and their dragons. It's possible that Valyrian magic—rooted in blood, fire, and will—was offended, weakened, or simply fractured.

Valyrian magical knowledge was lost or suppressed. The dragonlords of Valyria used blood rituals, sorcery, and ancient rites to bind and hatch dragons. Most of that knowledge was either never fully brought to Westeros or was lost after the Doom. The Targaryens relied on tradition, not full understanding. Once things started going wrong—eggs not hatching, dragons dying—they lacked the magical tools to fix it.

Maesters may have sabotaged them. There’s a solid fan theory (and some evidence in Fire & Blood) that the maesters of the Citadel had a hand in the decline of dragons. Many maesters mistrusted magic, dragons, and the Targaryens’ firepower. They may have spread misinformation, discouraged arcane practices, or even tampered with eggs. Septon Barth, who understood dragons better than most, warned that the creatures were not just beasts—they were fire made flesh, a magical force of nature.

The Targaryens themselves changed. After the Dance, the dynasty grew cautious, more political, less mystical. They treated dragon eggs as heirlooms, not weapons or living beings. Their fear of another Dance led to policies that dulled the very ambition and arrogance that once allowed them to bind dragons. Without that fire—literal and figurative—they couldn’t rekindle what was lost.

By the time of Aegon III, the “Dragonbane,” the last dragons were sickly, stunted things. His reign is the period where the last true dragons died, and no new ones hatched. Whether that was a consequence of grief, trauma, or some deeper magical severance is up for debate—but the result was the same: the fire went out.

Only when Daenerys steps into that funeral pyre with blood magic, fire, death, and sacrifice—echoing ancient Valyrian rites—do dragons return.

Because it’s not just about the egg. It’s about what you’re willing to burn to hatch it.

#inbox #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #f&b #fire & blood #the dance of the dragons

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kifkay · 1 year ago

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so remember when the specialists had dragons?..

they used to ride them throughout seasons 1-3 and it appearead to be part of their training.

first years at the Red Fountain must be dying for the day their training with the dragons starts. because - dragons!! those mythical, badass, fire-breathing machines of destruction - they are probably so sacred in Magix's culture due to their ties to the Great Dragon!! who wouldn't be excited at the opportunity?

it might even be a rite of passage for the specialists. like, yes - you train, you go on missions, you give your oaths to protect the balance of the universe. but it is once you earn the privilege of riding a dragon - once you bond with them, properly and spiritually - only then, can you call yourself a true Specialist.

even though it is a mandatory part of their education, once you pass the course - you are not required to ride or even guaranteed to have a dragon. you gotta bond with one first, and put in the work of training, taming and flying with the creature regularly. it's a huge commitment, both personal and academic (considered outdated too, now that cosmic ships are a thing) that not everybody is willing to make.

from the boys, Sky and Riven believe in the image of a perfect specialist the hardest. the upholder of good and right, the dragon rider, the knight. both of them so desperately want to be that, to quell their inner voices that tell them they are too rotten at their core. they pursue dragon-riding beyond the mandatory course, and get to keep their dragons upon graduation.

Sky's dragon is small, yet quick as lightning. He lovingly calls her Pearl. Sky hesitates to ride her into battles, instead taking her flying laps around Erendor.

Riven's dragon is a Big Boi, nicknamed Fang. Riven felt connected to that big, hurt tomcat of a dragon immediately - for Fang, it was more of a slow burn lol.

Timmy had a legit allergy on dragons. poor boy barely survived the course and staunchly relegated himself to cosmic ships.

Nabu was never an actual Red Fountain student, so he didn't get to train with dragons - but he is very curious of them and loves to study them from a distance.

Brandon never felt as free as when he was riding a dragon's back. his trainee dragon was named Sunrise - for her golden, shimmering scales and fiery temperament; they loved to fly together. however, he didn't continue the training, since his team already had two dragon riders and he wanted to be practical.

(Brandon misses Sunrise terribly, but she seems to hold a grudge and doesn't grace him with her attention when she visits)

Helia doesn't have a dragon anymore. nevertheless, he visits the dragon barracks and helps take care of them. both Fang and Pearl are very familiar with him - not affectionate, for that privilege is reserved for their riders, but not cold nor threatening either.

he did have a dragon, once. Dream. he was a young dragon - Saladin had raised Dream himself, promising the creature to Helia upon the latter's birth. the Specialist and the dragon's bond was so deep, Dream would often take on Helia's emotions.

Dream died on one of the missions Helia led. the boy was not resting well, training too much and eating too little - he was consumed with the responsibility of being his team's leader, and Saladin's 'prodigal' grandson. Dream took on his worries' as well, growing restless and tired. on that fateful day, the young dragon was not strong enough to stave off the rush of monsters - and was brutally massacred by them, in turn.

Helia dropped out of Red Fountain the next morning and never rode another dragon.

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xenophorusrachid · 5 months ago

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Albian finally gets the long-awaited horse armor DLC. And the horses are gorgonopsids that spec'ed into camel/horse physics. Isn't that just nice?

additional info below.

The Therigour is an equine-like synapsid with a history of domestication that goes back to the 'archaic' period of Albian-Aptian civilization. The images above depict the 'wild-type' morph, but Therigour can be bred to display various coat patterns in four main colors (red, orange, black, white (including bicolor and tricolor patterns). Their feet have adapted for quick travel across sand, with their hoof-like claws spreading out into a circular shape to keep from sinking.

They are carnivorous, and are characterized by high intelligence and rambunctious personalities. To remediate this, most Therigour are raised by human hand from birth, and undergo extensive training until they are 4 years of age. This ultimately builds a personal bond between trainer/rider and beast, and results in a terrifyingly loyal creature. You do not want one sic'ed on you (because they will bite you! and possibly maul you if their prey-drive is strong enough. lol). Because of the necessity of a long-maintained bond, Therigour are typically raised by warriors themselves, and breaking in a Therigour successfully is seen as a rite of passage.

In Albian, Therigour have a key presence in some religious rituals, and are culturally regarded as blessed beasts - that is, they are not to be sacrificed to any particular god, and they are often given burials similar to that of humans. This is due to the purposes they serve humans in the living realm, primarily draughtwork and personal transport. Aptian boasts similar practices, but their Therigour are often purposefully killed once they reach an age where they can no longer work (circa. 20 years old).

NOW: What's up with the armor?

The image up top is what it is - ceremonial barding worn during key Albian religious festivals, such as the New Year's Feast and the 'Days of Creation' - a three-week long festival celebrating Albian's founding. The large ox horns inlaid with gold that lay across the Therigour's back are used to harness the beast to a chariot, and these creatures are then paraded around.

Albian and Aptian warrior barding is more practical than it is ceremonial, though they do both include ceremonial motifs - such as intimidating 'eye' details. These protective symbols grant protection to both rider and beast, though their specific protections vary culturally. Creatures with eyes - or multiple eyes - are seen as worthy of godly protection by default, and erasing these eyes (or removing an animal or human's eyes) is seen as a final effort to destroy the soul of the creature.

There's also like. casual barding, but it's pretty much a simple halter + saddle + blanket/leather sheet combo...These are just the coolest.

#albian underneath #worldbuilding #spec evo #oc art #armor #spec bio #therigour

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wickedcriminal · 3 months ago

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How's the third movie gonna fit into the half brothers AU? Also, if you're comfortable sharing, what are your thoughts on that one in general? I have... opinions

The third movie is... it's. *sucks breath in through teeth.* It... happened. I have many thoughts.

That being said, I haven't cut out HTTYD3 from Half Brothers AU entirely! The characters and ideas are still there, though the book's themes and ending take priority over how HTTYD3 ended. So HTTYD3 and the last four httyd books are smashed together for HBAU, taking place over about a year and a half, and it goes a little something like this;

Book 9: Minicup and the Pirate Training Program come of age to join Flashburn's School of Swordfighting. This is Elder's very first excursion representing his tribe as the Hooligan Chief, so this is a rite of passage for both of them.

They're attacked by the dragon rebellion, and Alvin and the Witch get all of the tribes in on making the winner of a swordfighting competition King of the Wilderwest

The Witch kidnaps Elder in order to get Minicup to find the crown of the Wilderwest. Even though Mini finds it, the Witch made it so that Elder still can't compete

Minicup wins the competition, but Adelaide throws the stone that reveals his Slavemark. Elder sends Big Toothless away with Minicup and his dragons to keep him safe while he's in exile.

Book 10: The tribes are all split up into slaves and Alvinsmen, with the Jorgensens being Alvinsmen. Snotlout is an inside man. Elder and the other riders are kept separate so they can't make a big escape plan. Valka is missing and Valhallarama is supposedly an Alvinsman.

Meanwhile, Alvin has sent Grimmel the Grisly to track Minicup through Big Toothless, and after nearly a year, Furious sends Luna the Light Fury to do the same thing. Toothless decides to split off from Minicup to lead both hunters away, and Minicup gets into the Amber Slavelands to look for Little Fishlegs.

Big Toothless nearly gets caught by Luna, but she sprains her wing and he ruins his tail fin, rendering them both flightless. They have to take care of each other (and eventually fall in love) to get away from Grimmel.

Minicup meanwhile sneaks around the Slavelands and finds Elder Hiccup, and gives him the Wodensfang. The rest of the book goes as usual before Valhallarama and Valka show up and reveal they formed the Dragonmarkers, freeing all the slaves and escaping. The book trio go into hiding.

While the trio are in hiding, Elder Hiccup and the Riders find and confront Grimmel the Grisly, working together with Toothless and Luna to kill him.

Book 11: After a few months of hiding, the book trio find Adelaide and she claims she can get them into Alvin's base. She betrays them, not realizing Snotlout is faking and has been trying to keep Alvin off of the book trio's scent.

Adelaide and Minicup have a swordfight and Snotlout intervenes, getting Minicup on the boat with the Lost Things. They sail away, and Snotlout pretends to be Minicup to lure Alvin away, getting shot down in the process.

Book 12 goes largely the same, with everyone ending up on Tomorrow for the final showdown and Minicup finally becoming King. The only real difference is that most the movie/show cast is there, too, and that Elder Hiccup doesn't get a say in sending the dragons away. We'll have the book's ending, where dragons gradually leave over the course of Hiccup and Minicup's lifetimes, and the Toothlesses are among the last to leave.

There a few things I didn't have room to get into— such as Elder Hiccup and the Wodensfang's relationship in book 10, the Deadly Shadow's arc, the Riders being present for Minicup's torture in book 11, what happens to Adelaide after she and Minicup swordfight, whether or not Snotlout survived getting shot down, Big Tooth's importance in book 12, etc etc, but know that there's SO much still here!!

My thoughts on HTTYD3 as a movie below: (feel free to ignore, just my own thoughts. Doesn't affect hbau. And I'm a little bit salty.)

::::

Honestly, my issue is that the third movie tried to stay faithful to the books' ending, but it fell flat because at their hearts, these are two vastly different stories with vastly different messages. In the books, dragons are sapient; they have complex opinions and philosophies, they have a kingdom, they have a language you can learn. You can't just have one human say "humans are bad for dragons" and shoo away the dragons all at once like they're a hivemind; there's so much more to it than that. In the books it was always about dragons liberating themselves from humans as a people, that each one chose to leave for themselves. You need dragons like One-Eye and the Deadly Shadow and the Wodensfang to give us different perspectives on this choice. You need Furious. Dragons like Furious were integral to the dragons going away, and the movies just... didn’t have that. It just puts a sour taste in my mouth.

Personally, if they really wanted the books' ending, they should have had the entirety of the Hidden World focus on mass amounts of dragons going 'extinct' and the Riders trying to find out why. Toothless would find the Light Fury and she'd eventually lead him to places like the Hidden World (but not exactly) where dragons are going to hibernate for centuries to hopefully outlive humans like Drago and Grimmel (who, mind you, single handedly drove night furies into extinction). The Light Fury in this case could be the Furious stand-in, hating all humans and trying to get Toothless to see her side while Toothless tries to get the Light Fury to see his. That way Toothless has more agency and a bigger role (and we can have a dragon antagonist and not a copycat Viggo lmao). And I think the dragons should have all left gradually like in the books, too. It would make them feel like they had more of a choice in the matter, and we could have a little montage of the older Riders saying goodbye to their dragons one by one over the course of many years. It'll be just as sad.

You can still have 'there were dragons when I was a boy'. But Hiccup in the books was an old, old man when he said that. Movie Hiccup has plenty of time.

Idk I've waffled on long enough. But this was my way of trying to have my cake and eat it too with HBAU, trying to tie the themes together in way that was hopefully satisfactory. Lmk what you think!

#hbau #half brothers au #httyd books #httyd book spoilers #long post #httyd 3 criticism #how to train your dragon #ask

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hhnguyen · 2 years ago

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make me proud

Bringing my Sully Reader series to a bittersweet, yet hopefully comforting end.

♢ Pairing: Tuktirey x Oldest sister!Reader, Sully family x Oldest sister!Reader

♢ Word count: 3.2k

♢ Genre: angst, sibling love, fluff, grief - Warnings: cursing, major character death

⌲ Description: Time was passing by, and with hazy memories Tuk finds herself reminiscing about the person her sissy once was.

M A S T E R L I S T

R e c o m m e n d e d p l a y l i s t :

⌲ ashes - Celine Dion ⌲ brother - Kodaline ⌲ the nights - Chlara ⌲ the call - Regina Spektor

“Hello there,” Grinning, Tuktirey watched from a safe distance at the insistent yapping from a nest of Viperwolf pups.

This pack specifically was only a couple of months old, but friendlier than those residing further away from her village, thus more used to the comings and goings of the Omitikaya and not trying to kill anyone who came too near.

Tuk found herself visiting the energetic pups several times a week, always making sure their protective mother and pack weren’t too near when she snuck closer than anyone would recommend.

But she was confident in her abilities to protect herself, the bow slung over her body never left behind when outside the borders of her home. Not to mention the two extra daggers strapped to each thigh with firm leather holsters.

Allowing herself a couple more moments of silent admiration, she swallowed back a giggle as one of the bravest of the pups came bouncing over in her direction, stumbling clumsily over its legs and trotting the last couple of feet before rubbing its leathery body against her ankle, no sign of viciousness present.

Bending down to give the creature a little scratch behind its ears, the wolf gave a yip in satisfaction, tail thumping against the ground until a far-off howl sounded.

Forgetting Tuk’s presence all the pups started to howl in reply and she used their distraction to swiftly turn back around and climb up the tree she had come from, safely keeping herself a distance away as the rest of the pack came running through the bushes with their newest prey for the day, growls mixed in with the barks of the youngest.

With one last glance, Tuktirey started her short journey upwards before giving a sharp whistle.

A screech replied her quickly, a shadow flying over her only for a few seconds before landing down on the large branch before her, leaves fluttering down the ground from its appearance hidden within.

“Hey there boy,” Tuk trailed a gentle hand down her Ikran’s neck, somewhat feeling a little melancholic today, tracing the midnight blue skin with yellow and green marks. “Mawey Atanzaw.”

The old ikran listened, calming down and nudging his head against her hands as she smiled, nuzzling him back. She wasn’t the only one seemingly restless today.

Atanzaw himself was aware of what day it was, having acted impatient from morning until now.

Oh, what a shock that day had been for everyone; Tuk’s iknimaya was a moment still prone to come up in discussion to this day, four years later.

She had followed the same rites of passage as all her family before, making it all the way up to the Hallelujah Mountains without much issues. And just when Tuk thought she had found her bond, Atanzaw had swooped down from the sky like the vicious beast that he was known for.

Chasing away her first prospective Ikran and snarling at her.

No one had seen the animal since your death nearly seven years ago, the ikran having taken to the skies and never seen again after your body was brought back to Metkayina village to be buried with the ancestors.

She had been frozen to the core, all reason of what she was doing vanishing, until the realization that the ikran wanted her to fight; prove her worth to become his newest rider.

An occurrence that had never happened before in the history of her clan.

Once a rider died, it was well known their mounts refused to take any other.

But there she had been, faced with the fiercely loyal best of her long passed oldest sister.

“You want to see her, don’t you?” Tuktirey whispered, gently tracing the lines of his face as Atanzaw scuffed. “How about a little flight, then we’ll go.”

Swinging herself up on the saddle, the ikran didn’t need any more direction to follow their usual flight route circling her home forest.

Leaning forward to rest her whole body upon the warm skin of her mount, Tuk took a deep breath; eyes closing and feeling the wind whip past her as they soared above the trees.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in a beautiful picture of soft oranges, pinks and yellow, bathing her in a backdrop of warmth and comfort.

Ten years have passed since your death.

Tuk remembered that day more clearly than the others.

When her family had finally managed to pry her and Kiri away from the grasps of their enemies, her eight-year-old mind thinking everything was going to be alright from there out as they floated above the water on Payakan’s fin until she noticed the usual bright absence of her oldest sister.

Her questions had been answered in the worst possible way as she was led to the flat surface of rocks in the middle of the dark ocean, the flames of the sinking boat being the only light to illuminate them

But it had been bright enough for her eyes to take in the scarily still form of you. An image of cold serenity with a wet cloth covering your body from the neck down, eyes closed as if you were dreaming.

Tuk had thought you were.

Simply sleeping that is.

Sinking slowly down to her knees beside you, small hand shaking your shoulder to wake up, to hug her and assure her that everything was okay now. That their family was safe and they could go home. But you wouldn’t wake up.

“Why won’t sissy wake up, daddy!” Her child self had sobbed, hiccuping and whipping around to stare at her dad for an answer.

He had only scooped her up in his arms, tugging her head into his neck with comforting nothings, apologizing for something she couldn’t hear through her sobs of denial. Kiri had stared, seeing but unseeing, fists clenched by her side as their mother sank down and pulled your damp head into her lap.

The bright roots from the tree of souls brought her back to the present as Atanzaw swooped down slowly. The area was empty from what she could see, because Tuk had arrived late to her family’s tradition of visiting you on your death anniversary.

Instead of heading straight to the tree and connecting her queue, she found a slab of high rock several feet away and sat down. Her ikran settling down on his stomach beside her with a grumble as she absently traced his neck.

“Come on, Tuk Tuk! Atanzaw won’t wait for us forever!” Your voice seemingly whispered in her ears, your bright laughter following as the memories of her small self rushing out of the hut for your weekly sister bonding time.

“Tuk Tuk, mom and dad won’t be happy if you don’t clean up before dinner!” What an ongoing issue it had for you to force her to simply clean up after a day of adventures outside.

“Why are you crying, Tuk Tuk?”

“I-I had a n-nightmare of you leaving m-me…”

“Awe, my sweet little Tuk. I’ll never leave you, okay?”

“Y-you promise, sissy?” You had grinned so widely that it seemed like you could shield the entire world from her. “When have I ever broken a promise?”

Tuktirey couldn’t help but scoff, the sound feeling loud in the emptiness of the space as she plucked out handful of grass and letting them flutter to the ground.

“You’re a goddamn liar, sissy,” She couldn’t help but mutter bitterly.

“Careful now. She won’t be too happy hearing you say that.”

Looking over her shoulder to face the familiar deep voice of Neteyam, grinning almost innocently.

Tuk rolled her eyes, never stopping her aggressive little plucking of nature. She would apologize to Eywa another time.

“What are you doing here, Teyam?”

Her oldest brother heaved a sigh as he sat down on her other side, his ridiculously broad shoulders brushing her own. Just like everyone else, he had grown into himself as a strong male Na’vi. She knew that if their father decided to step down today as Olo'eyktan, Neteyam would be more than ready to take his place.

But alas, Jake Sully was still a stubborn male who assured he was more than capable for a couple more years before letting the role of leader go to someone else. A stubborn old fool, their mother had berated him to their amusement.

“I assumed since you didn’t show up earlier, I would find you here sooner or later.”

Her brother, now twenty-five was one of the respectable leaders of their clan, as a general and heir to their father. Neteyam even surpassed Jake in build and height, all the teenage softness melting into a strong wide jaw and high cheekbones.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Tuk muttered again as he chuckled.

“And let you remain here alone ruining that poor grass?” Her hand stopped at his pointed words with an inward sigh.

Pulling her knees against her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, never taking her eyes away from the gently swaying branches of the Tree of Souls.

“What’s the issue, Tuk?”

“What makes you think there is one?”

She didn’t have to look to know about the brow Neteyam raised at her. “You’ve been acting odd the last couple of days. Even mother and father have noticed.”

Tuk gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Since when have I ever judged you?”

That was true. Neteyam was always willing to offer an ear for her problems, often ending the conversation with a comforting hug to brighten up her days.

“I…think I’m forgetting her.” Tuk’s whispered admission floated into the air with a shuddering breath, eyes welling up with tears she let trail down her cheeks.

A guilt that had bothered her ever since she realized with horror how she couldn’t seem to recall how your smile had looked like, if the colors of your eyes had been as yellow as she remembered, or a more dark orange.

“Oh Tuk…” She didn’t fight the hold Neteyam slung over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “Why are you beating yourself up over that?”

“I can’t forget her, Teyam,” Tuk’s voice shook. “She’s…sissy. What kind of sister would I be if I can’t remember what her smile looked like? How her laugh sounded. It’s not right.”

“Who told you that?” Neteyam’s voice was a low comfort. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

“No, not even close, Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey shook her head. “Don’t do that. I don’t want your lies, Teyam.”

“Do you believe Y/N would call you a liar?” His question made her pause because she didn’t know.

She didn’t remember what you would have said in moments like these, and it was that exact feeling that was eating her up from the inside.

“You were eight, Tuk,” Neteyam continued seriously. “A child in the midst of war and mayhem. We all were. Trauma has haunted us all since then, you as a child couldn’t even escape it. Your memories warp over time, and no one would blame you for forgetting details of scenarios over a decade ago.”

“But it’s sissy!” She repeated vehemently.

“Sissy would tell you to suck it up and stop being a wimp.”

Words that your oldest brother would never use on a daily basis made them both freeze, before sharing an airy laugh together at how you would 100% say that to their faces.

“Yeah, she would…”

How Tuk hated the truth of those words. You would have told them much more than that with narrowed eyes and hands on your hips. Probably including a couple of cuss words followed by your signature whack to the head.

“A day does not go by where we don’t miss her,” Neteyam’s voice had taken a note melancholy, Atanzaw in his silence seemingly agreeing with a rumble from his chest.

“Y/N will always leave a mark within our lives long after we’re gone as well. Just look at Lo’ak. That fool has managed pretty well for himself.”

Giggling at their inside joke, Tuk could see what he meant.

After the war ended, everyone besides their second brother decided to return to the forest. Lo’ak had been firm in his decision of remaining with the Metkayina, Tsireya by his side as mates and to lead the future generations to come. They were doing incredibly well last time the family had heard, welcoming a healthy baby girl as their first child and naming her after you. They had promised to come for a visit the moment the babe was old enough for long travels.

None of the family had expected Lo’ak to be the first one to create a family and life for himself, but he had put all the credit on you. How he promised to be strong for your sake; A promise he had now fulfilled to its brim to the pride of everyone else, your parents especially. Kiri herself had taken over the role of Tsahìk, with their grandmother only growing more weary by the day, and there was no one else suited better to the role than her.

That left only Tuk, with her eighteenth birthday having passed, she was officially an adult in human terms. She had chosen to become a part of the hunters, often led by Neteyam as well.

She took after you a lot in that sense, her sense of adventure and adrenalin.

“You think sissy would be proud?” Tuk asked carefully.

Neteyam nudged her enough to catch her eyes as she followed his gaze to the tree, his small smirk obvious. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

“W-what?”

“I think of all days, that today is when Eywa might feel a bit more giving than usual.”

Despite her confusion over his mysterious words, Tuk listened and stood up. Walking the distance towards the closest root, she expected the same familiar connection to Eywa and hearing the whispers of the past brush over her mind as well the warmth spreading through her body. However her heart hammered when she felt her mind being pulled in further, as if dragging her away from the ground itself.

Where was she?

Slowly looking around, Tuk could vaguely recognize it. It was still home, in the forests on one of the many wide branches belonging to their trees. But it was taller than most she remembered, somewhere further away from their village.

“Should I be offended that you look confused?”

Gasping, Tuktirey whirled around quicker than she had ever moved. Her hand covered her mouth, blinking as if in a dream as you grinned at her.

Looking just like you had back then. Burnt orange like the sunrise, that was your eye color.

“...sissy?” She was too afraid this wasn’t real. Because it didn’t feel like it.

Your grin widened, beaming almost - arms opening wide. “Hey Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey propelled into you mid sob, somehow still feeling smaller than you despite her couple inches on you. The familiar warmth of your grasp around her body brought her back to her childhood almost frighteningly fast, making her think how she managed to ever forget that feeling.

“How tall you’ve become,” You murmured gently, hands trailing down her long braids, kept neatly within a leather tie.

“I-I can’t believe this. How-”

“Eywa has granted us the gift of seeing each other again. A rare occurrence.”

Although not wanting to part from your arms, Tuktirey forced herself to pull back slightly.

Only to be startled by the fact she had to look down to meet your sparkling gaze. You had always seemed like a larger-than-life figure to her. Towering above like an impregnable shield, it was now she realized how you had only been sixteen. How young your features looked now compared to her own eighteen.

Had you always been that slight?

“I don’t know what to say.”

You chuckled, reaching up to brush a singular braid back and tuck it behind her ear. “Do you have something to say?”

“I-I thought I did,” Tuk admitted, grasping your smaller hands tightly as you watched her patiently. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, then how about I start?” Meeting your eyes, she watched them crinkle. “I missed you, Tuk Tuk.”

Eywa knows how she managed to smile, a light laugh following despite her tears. “I miss you so much, sissy.”

“You are stunning. I always knew you would be.”

“How could you?” The words slipped out before she could stop. “You’re not here.”

But you simply snorted, obviously disagreeing. “I’m always there, Tuk. Even if you can’t see me, or feel me. Or even want to remember me. I’ll always be there.”

“Then why did you leave?” Tuktirey couldn’t help the choked question, knowing better than to expect an answer to it.

You had been shot. Not chosen to die. But you defied all expectations as always, answering with a smirk.

“Shit happens.”

Their dad would have been proud to hear that.

“You are so much like Dad,” She huffed out almost exasperated.

“And don’t you let him forget,” You winked.

A cribble crawled over her skin, the leaves of the trees rustling almost in warning as your face tilted up towards the sky, smile faltering the slightest.

“We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Tuk shook her head, gripping your hands tighter, probably near painful but you gave no indication of it. “I want to speak with you more. Apologize or something, I can’t forget you!”

To her surprise, you laughed. Loud and coming from your belly. “Forget me? Oh Tuk Tuk, you worry too much.”

“What?”

“You fear the natural sides of life. Apologize? For what? How do you expect to forget your favorite sibling?” Your joke did not dry the fresh tears gathered in her eyes, before your eyes softened.

Hand coming back up to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing against it. “You are allowed to forget my face. Even my voice. I would never hold it over you, Tuktirey. But this,” You patted her heart. “That will never be gone. You’ll always find me there, okay?”

Lips wobbling, Tuk sniffled almost pathetically as she nodded. “Okay.”

Her blurry vision took in your face carefully, for what felt like the very last time for a long while.

Looking at your shining eyes, loving wide grin with the same hint of mischief you always carried around.

The wind rose as you reached up to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hands squeezing hers one last time before stepping back and letting go.

“I love you, sissy.” Tuk managed to croak out as the surroundings were starting to brighten. She swore it was a tear running down your cheek as your grin widened enough to show your teeth.

“I love you too, Tuk Tuk.” And then a classic you-move; offering her a two-finger salute with a wink. “Make me proud, tiger.”

With a sharp gasp, Tuktirey was back; eyes flying open and stumbling back only to be balanced swiftly by Neteyam.

But he didn’t look concerned. There was a knowing glint in his expectant smile as she stared at him silently, almost stunned.

That smile widened at the look on her face. “So what did she say?”

As reality caught up with her, Tuk straightened before huffing out a laugh, wiping away the stray tears on her cheek.

With twinkling eyes, she ran her tongue against the inside of her mouth in thought before blurting out.

“That you’ll always be a sniveling crybaby!”

Cackling, she ran away with a squeal towards Atanzaw as Neteyam growled playfully behind her, bringing up the chase as she took to the skies; heart and soul lighter than she could ever wish for.

Am I crying? Maybe.

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#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar angst #dad jake sully #jake sully imagine #sully family #sully family x reader #jake sully x reader #sully reader #tuktirey #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #loak x reader #loak imagine #neytiri x you #neytiri x daughter!reader #mom neytiri

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literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

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How do I write a scene where a previously “dead” character comes back and faces their friends who mourned for them, looking physically different than before? It’s been a few years since their death, but I don’t how to write the scene.

Writing Ideas: Back from the Dead

a list of resurrection tropes

Accidental Resurrection: A deceased character/s is brought back to life without having been intended to.

Attending Your Own Funeral: A resurrection happens when people are gathered together to mourn for a character's death.

Came Back Strong: A resurrected person is more powerful than they were before they died.

Damaged Soul: A resurrected person comes back in a worse mental state than before.

Death Amnesia: A resurrected character remembers nothing about the afterlife.

Escaped from Hell: Someone refuses to stay dead even though they're already in the afterlife, so they break out and head back to the land of the living.

Inhuman Human: A character is resurrected with their mind/soul intact but their body in bad condition.

Refusing Paradise: A dead character chooses resurrection over entering the peaceful afterlife.

Resurrection Revenge: A character comes back from the dead to avenge their own death.

Resurrection Sickness: Someone suffers physical weakness as a result of resurrection.

Resurrective Immortality: A form of immortality where it is possible to kill the individual, but they keep coming back to life afterwards.

Rotten Reincarnation: The cycle of death and rebirth is seen as heinous.

Unwanted Revival: A resurrected person isn't happy about being brought back to life.

Waking Up at the Morgue: When a resurrectee comes back to life, they're likely to find themselves wherever their dead body was stored.

We Can Rebuild Him: Saving a person's life by converting them into a cyborg.

Examples

In Classical Mythology, before Sisyphus 'died', he told his wife not to do any burial rites. When in the Underworld, he appealed to the queen of the underworld, Persephone, if he could go back up to earth to haunt his wife for not giving him the proper rites. She agreed and he came back from the dead.

Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert from Tangled. From the time that he says in the opening, "This is the story of how I died," it only leaves the viewer guessing until the climatic part, when he is fatally stabbed In the Back by Mother Gothel's dagger and, rather than let Rapunzel risk her freedom for his life, cuts off her hair with a broken mirror shard in a Heroic Sacrifice before breathing his last in her arms. Thankfully, Rapunzel's magic tear brings him back to life. This is justified, since in the original tale, Rapunzel healed her beloved prince's eyesight with her tear.

In The Brothers Grimm's "The Three Snake Leaves" the hero uses the titular leaves to bring his wife back from the dead. At first it seems fine, but after being resurrected her love for him has turned into hate and she tries to murder him on a sea voyage. He is rescued by a faithful servant and she is executed.

The basic premise of Pet Sematary is that what you bring back is not what first died. To disastrous degrees. Specifically, while they stop decaying and can pass for alive if cleaned up, what comes back is a moving corpse that cannot heal, saddled with whatever injuries may have killed it. To further worsen the deal, while the corpse has all the memories and echoes of their personality, what "comes back" is not the soul of the deceased but some form of Demon or Monster from Beyond the Veil bent on making the one who resurrected it suffer through killing those they hold dear, and then them.

Game of Throne's Jon Snow. Seemingly averted, for the most part. Despite his resurrection coming from circumstances similar to Beric Dondarrion's, the only marked change in him is a (more) melancholic demeanor and a new hairdo. His willingness to interpret the preceding events as an out from the Night's Watch may also count.

Inuit Mythology: Sedna is just an ordinary woman until her father chops off her fingers and throws her into the ocean. She becomes the goddess of the ocean, the most important goddess of the Inuit cosmology because it's only with her on their side that the people can avoid starvation. Her fingers turn into seals. Another version has her being thrown in the ocean first, followed by the chopping off of her fingers (which turn into seals), hands (which turn into walruses), and finally her arms (which turn into whales) to get her to stop clinging on to the boat.

Merlin (2008) has had a few resurrections, all of which went wrong. Tristan du Bois: undead wraith, Lancelot: Soulless Shell, Uther: Took a Level in Jerkass, which is quite impressive considering he was a genocidal tyrant in the first place.

The Twilight Zone (1959): In the episode "The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank", a man comes back from the dead, but the townsfolk notice some things are off about him and decide that he's possessed by a demon. He manages to shame them away… and then lights his pipe without a match or lighter.

Osiris from the Ancient Egyptian pantheon died repeatedly only to return a short while later, suffering several indignities such as being resurrected without a penis, which was eaten by fish before it could be found and reattached. He averts the Trope in that he never came back in some monstrously horrific form, but true to it in that afterwards he was usually worse off than he was previously. And green.

The Lord of the Ring's Gandalf the Grey dies and comes back as Gandalf the White with augmented powers and authority. He is a lesser-angel figure on a mission from greater-angels and hasn't completed his quest so he is sent back and the restrictions previously placed on his power (to prevent overreliance or corruption) are relaxed.

Writing Template: Resurrection Scene

PART ONE

What is the purpose of this resurrection?

Is it based on the prophecy or is this resurrection random?

In prophecy usually a group of people, a village or more patiently waits for the prophecy to happen. Whether the person being resurrected will save the world, save their country or is a symbol. The prophecy can either be welcomed or feared. How has the people prepared for this resurrection? What is promised in the prophecy?

For a random resurrection, who decides to bring back the person or the deity. Do they have their own power or easy given to them? Why did they decide to wake up from their…. rest?

Describe the signs of the prophecy happening. What takes place right before the resurrection or during the resurrection that shows the reader something important is about to happen or is currently happening?

The skies can part, crows can gather, a national disaster such as an earthquake can occur. Maybe the prophet who spoke of the prophecy is dying or says it’s happening within three days. Depending on the sign it allow your reader to know whether the person who is being resurrected will be good or bad.

During the resurrection things may or may not go as planned. But that does not mean the person being resurrected is a bad person. There could be an evil force preventing the person from being resurrected. What are the witnesses doing in order to make sure the resurrection is going well? Do they close their borders or their gates to prevent outside from entering?

Who notices these signs and who prepares after noticing the signs. Is there a way for these people to rush the signs? Do they create their own signs as well such as using fireworks for celebration, going to a church to pray, dancing in the rain,etc?

PART TWO

Who witnesses this resurrection and what does it inspire them to do?

Who are the chosen people to witness and do they already have an idea this was going to happen? It doesn’t even have to be human.

Could only be family or friends, or random people, no one at all is worthy, or perhaps someone who is dreaming. Do they want to be better people after seeing this? Do they want to tell everyone they know after seeing this? Do they question the world around them and their existence? Or do they wish they never saw it?

For a random resurrection there must be a random people to view it. Because no one knows that it was going to happen. How are these random people taking it in? Do they run and hide. Rejoice? Scream and shout? And maybe they heard something about this but they didn’t know it was true. Now that they see it before their very eyes are they are shocked, and standing still like stone.

If the witnesses aren’t human but animals or creatures that you created, what do they do after and during the resurrection? Assuming that the person being resurrected is the main character, how do they feel about no one being meant to see this?

What are they inspired to do now? Do they wait until the resurrection is completed or do they start right away? What device,if any, do they have available?

They can be inspired to spread the word about the resurrection. Maybe do what ever the character being resurrected did so that they can resurrect too. Whether it’s sacrificing themselves or changing themselves for the better. Do they want to worship the resurrected person?

Some people may not even be able to finish the resurrection for whatever reason. Whether it is because they are fainting or they’re afraid or because they can’t wait to do with what they are inspired to do. Maybe their in a trance or were told specifically by the resurrector to go forth and do something. Also, if they have electronic devices they can use that to their benefit.

PART THREE

What does the person who is being resurrected look like? What are they doing?

Note their clothing, and their hair, and how their skin looks. Use some adjectives to describe them. What point of view is it? The witness’s point of view, the resurrector? Each person will have a opinion of what the resurrection looks like.

Their appearance:

Clothing: None, Robe, Torn clothes from when they died, Clothing restored from when they died, Wings

Hair: White or silver; Natural color; A bright color such as yellow or orange; Styled very long; Styled messy or clean; Like it was before; Flowing in the wind; Silky, thick, smooth

Skin: Clear; Still dirty from when they died (if they were in battle); Younger; Older

Adjective to Use: Glorious; Radiant; Superb; Extraordinary; Amazing; Awesome; Unimaginable; Promising; Inspiring; Flawless; Peaceful; Perfect; Timeless; Awe-inspiring

Depending on whose point of view it is, how is the person being resurrected seen? Is there envy, remorse? Example: An enemy just finished off the main character but he is resurrected shortly after. Also, what does the facial expressions of everyone in this seen look like? Does it match the way they look? The person who has risen from their… slumber may look like an angel but has a nasty look on their face. Or vica versa.

Does the look change? The person being born again can go from happy to mad in an instant. So can whatever they are wearing or his/her hair. Example:

From clean white rob, bowl-cut hair, and brown eyes — Torn robe, spiked hair, red eyes.

From Torn clothing, messy and dirty hair, and red shot eyes — Clothing fixed, hair fixed and eyes back to normal

These changes can be temporary or permanent.

Are they already doing magical things? Are they doing things they wouldn’t have done in the previous life? Are they better or worse off? What interaction do they have with the witnesses?

Do they now have powers? How do they use of these powers? At first do they scare the witnesses because they don’t know how to use their power? The may accidentally hurt someone or burn a tree down. Are they floating while being resurrected? Do they disappear after being resurrected or even fly?

Do these powers change them to be better than before they were dead or worse? Can they control their powers? Do they even want the powers? What are the power intended for?

PART FOUR

What message is sent to the people who are witnessing the resurrection? What is the person being resurrected thinking?

Is the witnesses being ordered to do something? Are they able to have a conversation with the person being resurrected? Are there any warnings or other prophecies?

They are probably told to tell people what they have seen. Or may not. Maybe they need to keep quiet about it for a while in order for the resurrected to attack the enemy with surprise. May they have risen only to tell one last message to the people. If that’s the case it has to be something important. For example: How to win a battle, how to create something, take away something, restore something, or improve something.

There does not need to be a conversation, however, they can still communicate. Whether it’s with gestures, with a song, showing the future or another prophecy using powers…. If a conversation does take place, who is doing most of the talking and are questions being answered not only for the reader but for the witnesses?

What thoughts are in mind of the main character, whether they are the person being resurrected or a witness? What do they see that no one else sees?

Maybe they want to go back to…. sleep. Or ditch and figure out their new powers. How about if the resurrect isn’t the correct resurrected or a fake. Can a witness see that? Do they notice? What if the resurrected see a witness that is a trader. What do they do?

PART FIVE

What is the next step for the person being resurrected?

How does the future look; what changes forever

After all is said and done, where is the resurrected going? How do they plan on getting there and are they going alone?

What is promised, what is warned, what is happening as the resurrected says his/her goodbyes?

What is left behind, given as a gift, or what words are repeated? How has this moment changed the history of your story? And who would believe it besides the witnesses?

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some tropes and examples you can use as inspiration. When facing their friends, what are their reactions? Is it positive/negative? Are they accepted or treated like a stranger in this new form? Similarly, when they look physically different than before, is it a positive/negative change? Are they decomposing? Do they look the same or are they "better" now? Do go through the links as well for more examples. Or you may use (and alter as needed) templates, like the one I found above to help guide your story. Hope this helps with your writing!

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