#others' worldbuilding

[ren-is-real]

You know when

[azaleaspot]

Intro Post

Hey there! This sideblog's a place I've made to keep my Warrior Cats AUs/fanclans in an organized place! You guys can call me Papi or Azalea if you want. [Please only use they/them for me.] Continually refer to this post when more AUs are added!

Do note that there will be dark -- or problematic if you prefer that word -- content present on this blog. I know I can't control who looks at my blog, but I will block minors on sight. Additionally, fandom drama is not welcome here. If you don't like something, please just block the tag.

My worldbuilding is free to use, while everything else, I'd prefer you only take inspiration from.

Most of my AUs are vaguely plotted out! Feel free to ask me questions to flesh them out or fill in any holes! However, please be kind when asking your questions.

Current list and description of AUs/tags:

#azalea's worldbuilding: The tag for all my worldbuilding! Clan differences, religion, etc. all falls under here!

#others' worldbuilding: Just as it says; the tag for worldbuilding/other posts made by other people!

Flaming Wishes: A Thistlestar and medcat Fireheart [Flamewish] AU. Features heavy themes of grooming and a naive/unreliable narrator that eventually realizes his family [Clan] life is far from normal or healthy. While Thistle/Spotted is in this AU, it's only one part of systemic issues in [Thistlestar's] ThunderClan. This AU is darker than most Warrior Cats fan content and I'd recommend avoiding it if you don't like the content.

Seeds of Secrets: A DoTC overhaul! Features the gradual fall of a kingdom thanks to an abuser being enabled to the point where things can't be salvaged. Also a mild OotS AU.

The River Flows in Us: An AU that starts with Hawkfrost and Mothwing during the events of TNP, only to follow Hawkfrost's kit's during Po3 and the plot to be lost for OotS. Hawkfrost and Mothwing take Stormfur and Feathertail's place on the prophecized journey, among other things.

Endless Sky: A Skyclan-centric AU that follows Bramble-, Tawny-, Feather-, Storm-, and Primrosepaw's escape from TigerClan and eventual part in reviving SkyClan. While the apprentice side of this AU is fairly lighthearted, sections focused on TigerClan are dark.

Memento Vivere: An AU that encompasses TNP through OotS. In this AU, the Three are kin of Ferncloud's. An overall angsty AU with a heavy focus on grief and loss.

[sanctus-ingenium]

Collectable woodblock prints commemorating individual conquests were commonplace in the theocracy, distributed by the church as a way to announce its victories.

get a print here :>

[vladdyissues]

The great thing about canon giving you only vague details about a character is the fact that you can take that character to the Build-A-Blorbo workshop and stuff them with whatever headcanons your little heart desires.

[puppyeared]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[theartingace]

Your centaurs differ pretty wildly from the base DnD centaurs, but what I am curious about is old people. DnD centaurs travel in migrations that last generations and just leave the old or infirm behind to keep on (at which point they become Chiron types); how do your centaurs handle the elderly?

I actually had no idea that DnD centaurs did that, kinda cool, kinda wild cultural practice?? While I have always encouraged folks to use my workarounds and patches for centaurs in their TTRPG games, I actually have very little idea of what ideas are already in any of the systems that do actually include centaurs! my advice on centaurs is usually much more niche daily life stuff than most game developers and story writers tend to delve into.

For my centaurs the elderly are treated much like any human elder, what do you do with them? You cherish them!! Particularly with my centaurs, who across all their cultures depend a lot on family and group dynamics to compensate for the challenges that come with having a horse body. So elders would be an important font of knowledge and cultural memory! Now MY centaurs in particular tend to be pre-history to medieval style cultures, with access to higher medicines pretty much limited to the Port city of the Merchant's culture so living to a super advanced age would be fairly rare, but that would just make those who DO get to that age generally more important and respected (at least according to Nana)

As mobility issues arise with advanced age, there's lots of options to keep Nana mobile and healthy, from supportive corsets and harnesses to support the back to senior comfort hoof trims and special shoes- but most end up opting for being (literally) carted around in small wagons by the grandkids. Or the more independent minded seniors may drive their own carts with pet ponies and donkeys (or even goats!)

Of course wheelchairs are also an excellent choice to help with mobility at any age!

And even in my semi-nomadic Rider culture, elders are simply packed up with the yurts and tents and travel in the carts that way. No reason to leave them behind when you have stuff to be carrying anyway in my opinion!

[feluka]

re: OC making and orientalism, when you're asked to read edward said's orientalism it doesn't mean to use the book as a guidebook or checklist to see if you "pass" or "fail". it means rethink your motivations for writing this character/culture altogether

[tetrameryxx]

Amekhoz, dragon of fire, is only seen in the depths of summer, setting alight field and forest. His cyclical lifecycle is short and brutal, but a known constant, unlikely to fizzle out over the long term.

[furious-blueberry0]

Ok I made a list of mandalorian colors:

Black: justice (canon)

Grey: mourning (canon)

White: responsibility / temperance

Silver: clean slate / being reborn / seeking redemption

Gold: vengeance (canon)

Yellow:  lust for freedom

Orange: lust for life (canon)

Red: honoring a parent (canon)

Dark Red / Garnet: survival 

Magenta: luck

Purple: strength of spirit 

Blue: reliability (canon)

Light blue: ambition

Green: duty (canon)

Light Green / Erin: lust for peace

Teal: healing / compassion

Brown: honesty / valor

Pink: kindness / trust

Lilac: universal harmony / emotional balance 

[dunmeshistash]

Anything you wanna share about half-foots? Like anything you find interesting?

I don't think there's much else I can share about half-foot after I compiled the half-foot post (I tried to add everything interesting I found there) but my favorite thing about the half-foots is the Guild/Union Chilchuck founded.

It is mentioned that Half-foots are used as bait and treated badly but the reaction of forming a Union for worker rights is something I never expected in a fantasy setting and I love it. And that includes the fact we got a scab too.

Mickbell is also a victim of how half-foot are treated, but he doesn't understand the guild exists for people like him and that helping with funds at the end of the day is a benefit to him because the guild protects them from abusive contracts. Also if you haven't seen these extras, don't worry about the dog that's his father, he isn't actually being taken advantage of.

Anyway, My only other experience with this fantasy race is lotr hobbits, and they are SO different from half-foot, I know half-foot are more based on the DnD race (Halflings?) which I barely know anything about, so I wonder how similar they are.

[buginateacup]

I would rather be in the tiny creative fandom of a dead media with no chance of a sequel than a bigger fandom paralysed by canon validation syndrome

[spearxwind]

Here's another concept for Broken Horizon - a dragon pilot saddle! Ft. Alex as the model (and Riptide as the pilot, even if you can't see his face)

Modern saddles were jointly developed by dragons and humans post-war to make dragon riding safer and flying more precise, as regular reins and voice commands quickly became obsolete.

In these saddles the control sticks on the pilot's seat transmit inputs to the steering modules, which are then interpreted into nerve impulses for the dragon to follow. However they are not hard commands, and the dragon can still choose to ignore the impulses for any reason. This means that the dragon and the pilot must have an incredibly strong trust bond for the best performance.

[lambouillet]

silly little jester !

[midnight-the-pony]

Good evening Candybug enjoyers come get your food

[alwaysoutofpaper]

ta-da, these are Rausliers :)

i went a little crazy with these guys after posting Pancake, and this isn't even everything - but this is probably the most in depth i'll get with a sophont for a while lol.

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!