#worldbuilding cities

[redd956]

Need to make a last minute fantasy city/town?

I got just the trick for you. Exaggerate a city you’re already familiar with. A hometown? Capital? Friend’s town? Exaggerate it with fantastical elements and maybe even inside jokes. Not too long needs to pass before you got a convincing fantasy city.

A small rural town known for its flowers? A secluded village swallowed by giant boughs of wildflowers, where masterful but painstakingly traditional druids live.

A city with terrible potholes and construction that never ends? Make it a city built upon massive caverns and canyons, repairing the results of constant dangerous dragon attacks.

Detroit? A city of thieves, that upon entering, with each passing hour you yourself become more and more thief-like.

Really do this! Exaggerate more than one element, and you get a place even more unlike with what you started from.

[puppyeared]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[koshka-sova]

love this genre of arknights image

they love making us (and the characters) look at the world of terra.

[spookygibberish]

Lovis is the world, and is shaped like a flat spring. Its form is that of a great, stone blood vessel which holds air and heat within, and endless, icy ocean without. From the surface of the world, actually its interior wall, its curve appears straight, hence the ‘flatness’ of its shape. Those with a mind to understand it for a long time assumed it was a toroid, but if one follows the sunpath along its curve, one will never see a familiar landmark repeat, as far as anyone knows, the world is an endless tunnel through an endless ocean, and it crosses through itself endlessly. 

Gravity created by the vast mass of ocean beneath and outside of the world, and pulls towards the ground which wraps around the sky. Air clings to the walls, and thins towards the center. The interior-most point of the sky, the sunpath, is either airless, or has air so thin and frictionless it might as well not exist. Suns run down this path like cars of a train, or marbles down a chute. When a sun passes over, its own gravity acts against that of the ocean, and gravity on the whole is weakened. This effect is too slight to notice casually, but very sensitive and finely tuned clocks operate by detecting the slight shifts in gravity over the course of the day, which also varies by season. A season is nothing more than a sequence of particular suns, and there are three kinds. The suns of the red season are small, dim, and bring cool weather and higher noontime-gravity, since they do less to pull against the force of the ocean. The suns of the white season bring scorching heat and lower noontime-gravity, and the yellow season is intermediate. A year is a sequence of somewhere between 536 and 554 suns, give or take, and does not always have the same length or order of seasons. The turning of a year is determined by the passage of a massively large and ominously green sun, and the exact length of a year is not known until it has concluded. In academic circles, it is commonly held that the varying length of years and seasons are calibrated to some particular effect. What this effect could possibly be, and what intelligence is doing the calibrating, are topics of debate as contemporary as the line of suns is endless.

The suns bake the land into desert and dust, scatter the spores of the gods, and churn the wind with their immense convective heat. Because the world’s surface is dry and thin, it tends to crack, ripped open by its own spinning and flexing, and should it crack too severely, the ocean would press up and through, drown all life, and snuff out the suns. The cracks in the world are filled by the bodies of great metal gods, those born from the sun-shed spores.

[guttertongue]

orcs orcs orcs! Some of my ocs from an original worldbuild. In this worldbuild, in order for a new orc to be born, a creature must be hunted and its blood used in a ritual. The resulting orc is blessed with the strengths and abilities of the creature which helped to make them. 

[rpgsandbox]

The settlement character sheet by gregolopogus on reddit

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Rites of Cybertron

Cybertronians are not without religion, nor are they lacking in holidays. While there are plenty of smaller ones scattered across the planet for various city states and historical events, Cybertronians have thirteen major holidays in celebration of the original thirteen. Although the celebrations are far less religious than the Primacy would like.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Rite of Prima

It is customary for every able bodied mech to endure the rite of Prima once a vorn on a pre-selected cycle that changes every few millennia. It is by far one of the most loathed or loved holidays. It completely depends on who is engaging in it.

The practice begins the moment the light of the nearest star touches Cybertron's surface. Every mech who is capable must then select a weapon and stand guard in absolute silence in a safe location of their choice. Rain or shine, they must keep to their station stoically until the local priest of the Primacy rings a bell just before sundown. Failure to stand guard will have them marked and prohibited from the remainder of the activities. All of this is done in remembrance of Prima's long watch and his supervision of Cybertron during its early history. It doesn't matter if anyone actually believes that is what went down. Not when they know that if they follow the tradition, the fun will begin in no time.

As soon as the bell is rung, that's when the true joy of the holiday begins. Every mech who stood guard is legally allowed to engage in a spar with whoever they make optic contact with first. The loser has a mark placed on their frame to indicate their loss and the winners will travel around their city state to fight other victors until one comes out on top. The victor of each city state (if a victor is found before the following cycle that is), will then be presented with a reward of their choosing by the Primacy. It is often so rare for a winner to turn up before the next morning that it is a grand event when one mech actually comes out on top.

Most are not fond of this holiday since it can lead to extreme crime spikes, but police are always on patrol and are forbidden to engage in the holiday so that they can stop troublemakers who wish to use the holiday as their chance to create chaos. Oftentimes, fights between high ranking combatants will be put on television for the population to watch throughout their activities. Those who don't participate will make bets.

All in all, it is one of the least reverent of holidays, but a well needed excuse for Cybertronian citizens to settle their scores legally and in a nonlethal manner. Although it has been said that long ago, Prima's rite was far more... mystical. A few who still follow the old faith have stated that when they hold their vigil, they maintain it for the entire cycle and in turn find themselves strengthened for trials to come.

The Rite of Recollection

The Rite of Recollection is a holiday devoted to Vector Prime and serves as an excuse for Cybertronian citizens to indulge in the wonders of the stars. While primarily focused around the young, The Rite of Recollection is a time for all of Cybertron. Mecha young or old will travel from every single corner of Cybertron in order to gather around with family or open locations for one sole purpose.

They gather to witness the stars.

Every light is turned off, save for the most essential. Work is put on hold, school is canceled, and not a spark is allowed to have a light brighter than a candle. All of Cybertron goes dark and its citizens come together quietly to watch as Cybertron finishes its rotation and a rare meteor shower graces the skies. The young are regaled with information on Cybertron's solar system and given sparklers to chase each other with in symbolization of Vector Prime's purpose as a keeper of space. Couples have been known to go out of their way to hunt down fragments of the meteors that land on the planet's surface to create gifts. Mentors will take the opportunity to witness constellations usually invisible due to light pollution. Vendors will sell trinkets modeled after the holiday, and quiet night markets will appear and promptly vanish over the course of a cycle.

Most of the cycle is laid back. The only ones who are frantic are the priests of the Primacy who throw their very sparks into recording as much as physically possible and try to collect as much meteor as they can. There are beliefs that the shards of meteor bring good luck, and the priests take that to another level and believe them to be a gift from Vector Prime himself that was sent from his divine domain amidst the space between the stars.

The Rite of Wisdom's Vigil

Modeled after the recorder Prime (Alpha Trion), Wisdom's Vigil is a deca-cycle long event dedicated to messing with everyone's perspectives. It was highjacked during the height of the golden age as a way to earn additional shanix through underhanded means, but its original purpose was quite clear. And despite the corruption, the Primacy was still able to maintain the event well enough to keep it going without completely losing its meaning.

Traditionally during Wisdom's Vigil, all Cybertronians under a certain age and with no serious health conditions, would be shipped to different parts of the planet to study a new culture and under a new mentor. It was one of the greatest student exchanges on the planet, and its entire function was to show citizens how others lived. With the Council's corruption, this ability to exchange students was limited to the higher castes and served as a form of political warfare amongst the higher castes. However, those who were able to engage in the holiday were required to adapt.

A mech from Iacon sent to Kaon would be taught the ways of Kaon and have to integrate into the culture as seamlessly as possible while serving under a new mentor in what was likely a completely different field than the one they were used to. A mech from Rodion sent to Praxus would need to roger up and adapt really quick just as much as a mech from Tarn would need to get used to falling a lot while being sent to Vos. Was the holiday chaotic? Absolutely. But it always yielded interesting results and gave every city a chance to share their culture. There have been many immigrants to various city states after those who engaged in the holiday found they preferred one culture over the one they were forged into.

The older Cybertronians who are not mentoring or being mentored have their own way of celebrating. The non religious will go to their closest archive and listen to various speakers who are brought in by the archives. The religious will go to an archivist and ask for the rite of confession. Upon being granted it, they will go somewhere where none save for the archivist can listen and pour out their spark, revealing whatever has been weighing them down and asking for guidance should they be lacking in information. This rite was hardly ever enacted prior to the war simply because many archivists were paid to sell whatever information they gleaned to the Council. Too many vanished after confessing, and so the rite died for all but the most unassuming individuals.

The Rite of Symbiosis

Developed as a way to honor Micronus Prime, the Rite of Symbiosis is a holiday that is actually banned in several city states with far more restrictive legislations when it comes to who counts as a citizen or not. The whole point of the rite is to celebrate the symbiotic relationships between minibots, intelligent mechanimals, symbiotes, and their carrier units. It is a time to remember how special such things are and how much stronger Cybertronians can be as a whole when they rely on one another, regardless of size or structure.

The rite begins for already bonded companions a few cycles before the actual holiday. It is customary for both parties involved in a companionship to go on some sort of trip or test their bond with trial. It doesn't need to be extreme, just something to reaffirm their reliance on one another. That is the only true holy aspect of the rite as the rest is largely commercial thanks to the Council. On the actual cycle of the rite, minibots without a companion who are looking for one will use their opportunity to show off their skill. The entire cycle is filled with performances from those looking for carrier units and carrier units attempting to show off their services to those looking for a team to hire. While technically one huge advertisement, there is actual joy to be found.

Circus teams have been known to be very prevalent and it is by far the best time to part ways and find new companions for carrier units who are unhappy with their situation. During the holiday minibots can also group together and legally register under one name if they fail to bond to anyone, therefore ensuring they are viewed as citizens sharing the same name instead of property to be owned. The rite is also the only time minibots and symbiotes who are unhappy can earn their freedom through contests. If an contest is issued, those watching much uphold it. The Primacy ensures this rite is honored.

Of course its not all hidden drama covered by a loose celebration. There are treats and dances. But the bit event revolves around the displays carrier units, minibots, symbiotes, and various teams put on to showcase their abilities. There is also a feast at the end of the whole event, but that is to be expected. Any holy aspect was long lost to ancient documents in the archives.

The Rite of Bounty

Created vorns before the Council was even formed, the Rite of Bounty is exactly what it sounds like. Made to honor Alchemist Prime, the only holy aspect about the whole thing is the fact that every bot will pray over their fuel before mixing and consuming. There entire cycle is one giant potluck and food fest. Mecha prepare stellar cycles in advance, collecting wild energon and additives to add to their creations. Then when the cycle arrives, brewers, mixers, purifiers, bartenders, and other fuel concoctors will emerge as one with their creations.

Every city is filled with vendors and stalls. Fuel is absolutely everywhere, often being given out for free as a way of sharing the joy. High-grade and energex flow like a river and drunk mecha are absolutely everywhere. The young are given treats and taught to purify energon safely. The old will bicker over who's energon is better and which high-grade is superior. The higher castes can't even get involved because it is simply too wild of an event. Not even the police are willing to try and stop whatever goes down for that whole cycle.

The people are happy, fueled, and more often than not, drunk off their afts. Not even the Primacy gets around it. They purposefully push their priests to go learn to mix up high grade to honor Alchemist. Many young brewers and fuel mixers have found their spotlight in winning one of the many many competitions across Cybertron during the course of the rite.

Those who still abide by the old faith tend to be a little quieter in their celebration and spend the cycle carefully creating a fancy meal for their loved ones with purely foraged supplies. But those mecha are few and far between. Most are more than happy to go get drunk with the rest.

The Rite of Convergence

Made to honor Nexus Prime, this holiday is still heavily commercialized, but it has managed to maintain some of its holy origins. During the rite, combiners, split sparks, and those who holds close bonds are given their chance to shine. The cycle begins with song where those who are bound to another will come together and sing a blessing of their own creation or choice. This lasts until halfway through the cycle when the solemn atmosphere will lift and festivities will slowly begin.

First, combiner teams will parade through the streets, showcasing their unity in their combined form. It is the only cycle they are allowed to wander fully combined without mission orders, so most relish in it. Combiner teams will often engage in games to showcase their unity in mind and frame after their various parades, all of which are observed keenly by the public. Most of the time, combiner teams, being so rare, will represent their entire city. They will go up against other teams in activities which the public vote on and the winners of said activities are allowed to select their next assignment and even change their city allegiance if they so desire.

Most regular mecha will engage in smaller versions of the combiner games. It is akin to the rite of symbiosis, but mean to include everyone. Mecha who may not know each other will group up and play to win. Teams of veterans will gather to prove their worth. It doesn't matter where one comes from. If you have a team or a partner, you can join the games. The most popular game amongst non-combiner teams is what they call the stilt wars. Mecha will group up and try to turn themselves into a makeshift combiner by standing on shoulders and swinging smaller companions around like arms. It's an absolute mess, but its the most fun many have all vorn long.

The religious will gather in quiet places to pray as one, usually holding servos and chanting in sync to try and feel Cybertron. Those who adhere to the old faith will enjoy the festivities for a time, but they will spent at least half the cycle communing with Cybertron itself through whatever means they deem appropriate.

The Rite of the Wilds

Developed in honor of Onyx Prime, the rite of the wilds is largely an excuse for those who have embraced Onyx's teachings to show their worth. Beastformers from around the entirety of the empire come together to perform feats and legally preach regarding the benefits of taking on an animalistic alternate mode. But that is not all, not in the slightest. The average Cybertronian will spent the cycle wandering.

Previously forbidden wilderness reserves are opened to those who feel inclined to explore. Guides are given and the cycle is dedicated to learning. Young Cyber-felines and Cyber-hounds are given or sold to those who want one. Various other mechanimals are put on display for those in need of a pet to take a look at. And surprisingly, seekers use the Rite of the Wilds as an excuse to show off their skills. They have their own holidays to celebrate the gift of flight, but since Onyx had wings, they take every excuse to show off.

The skies are filled with seekers and other flight frames showing their skills. The ground is covered in various dealers and animal sellers. The wilds are busy with guides taking eager mid-caste mecha around to see the natural wonders of Cybertron. Stations are set up to educate the young and give them the chance to interact with wild creatures under the watch of a a handler. It is a simple celebration and not nearly as beloved as many others, but enjoyed all the same.

Those who adhere to the old faith are known to up and vanish for the entire cycle before turning up like nothing happened a few deca-cycles later. No one is entirely sure why they do this, but they always head into the wilds, so most assume its a communion thing much like the Rite of Convergence.

The Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry

Created to honor Amalgamous Prime, the Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry is fully intended for stress relief. Those who participate will select a new identity and become the person they are imitating for the entire cycle. Mecha will go to increadible lengths to match their target, even prepping stellar cycles in advance. It is a test of skill, and it is during this time that many an actor makes their debut. There have even been actors so good at their jobs that they have been outright mistaken for their identity. Comedic relief regularly comes from those with the same faked identity participating in a battle of wits regarding who knows their target best.

It is a time of fun and mischief. Harmless pranks will be played on the unsuspecting and masked parades are all but mandatory. The young will try their hardest to emulate their mentors and the older amongst society will aim for greater challenges. Not even the Council and higher castes are exempt. Everyone tries to imitate someone. Although emulating a deceased Prime was outlawed after one particular incident where the population were convinced Onyx Prime returned from the dead when a shapeshifter got too excited. Even still, it is considered an increadible honor to have someone mimic you during the rite. As such, there is incentive amongst the population to be memorable if not loved.

Those who adhere to the old faith do not emulate. Instead they will wear masks based off horrific creatures from folklore. Their reasoning is quite simple. They are attempting to ward off the evil that lurks. Not even they know what it is, but it is tradition and they adhere to it.

The Rite of Discovery

Modeled in honor of Quintus Prime, the Rite of Discovery is about what it presents itself as. Most average civilians cannot actively participate, but they are all encouraged to watch as Cybertron's brightest minds gather together for debates, exhibitions, and scholarly discussion. Geniuses from every plausable field will gather in the center of whatever city state they live in and will group together to show off the fruits of their labor. It is not merely for pride's sake either. By showing off their work, they can gain additional funding, support, and assistance from potential investors.

Philosophers will all debate over heated questions (a fact that the council has abused to remove dissenters quietly). Physicists will work on group projects and try to one each other up in space bridge design. Researchers will present their findings on foreign worlds and get into bawls over who found what first. Astronomers will attempt to murder one another with their optics as they argue over star distances. Linguists will screech at anyone and everyone who disrespects their dialect in strange shifting tongues. Archivists with their digits too far deep into certain files will actively try and assault one another over translation issues. Not even medics are exempt. Doctors from around the world can and will create line long grudges over potential medical malpractice.

It is some of the most amazing argumentation of all time, and civilians love to watch. Not just because of the arguments of course. Civilians are able to watch the pinnacle of the Cybertronian race at work and are even able to watch many young upstarts cement themselves amongst the greatest of the great. Anyone who cares for drama knows to keep their optics and audials on the rite while it progresses. Most who engage in the rite get into controversy at some point.

Those who lived through the reign of the Quintessons devote their entire sparks to throwing effective middle fingers at their former overlords with their accomplishments. Many a scientist has laughed maniacally after presenting something the Quints would have never allowed.

The Rite of Truth

The Rite of Truth is not one that anyone loves a great deal. It is one of the few holidays that the Primacy fully owns, and the entire purpose of it is to get everyone to confess their sins. The story of Liege Maximo is told all throughout the rite and not a spark can go anywhere without getting it preached to them by a priest. Civilians are required to be silent unless they are going to be confessing something. Most opt to speak over private comms to avoid a priest or religious fanatic trying to get them to speak their truth. Those who are caught speaking without confessing something or other can be fined by the Primacy. It is by far one of the least liked holidays ever, even if it does get everyone a cycle off work.

Most are encouraged to actively rat on one another and become a whistleblower if they don't want to confess anything personal. This has led to the rise and fall of many an organization since the Primacy will take all big confessions seriously. The Council has used this to their advantage many many times. The average mech will usually take the change to drag skeletons out of the closet regarding those they dislike (at least if they are particularly spiteful). The best of the tea will make it into the media in no time.

Of course that is not all of it. Since most mecha decide to remain at home to escape the Primacy, small traditions have taken root. Most often, families and close comrades will gather to share a meal together and sort old scores and bitter grudges in a polite private manner. Secrets are shared and revealed. Drama is dealt with. It is a quiet affair for those who decide to be decent and not throw shade at everyone and everything that has ever wronged them.

The Rite of the Fallen

Created as both a warning and another way to help citizens deal with their issues, the Rite of the Fallen is complex. The Rite of the Fallen differs for absolutely everyone. Those who have issues and things they wish to repent for will have the one they wronged decide what they are to do (those whose victims are no longer living will go to a sanctioned friend or priest). These remorseful sparks will then spend the entirety of the rite fulfilling whatever they were ordered to do. Other mecha without anything they wish to outwardly deal with will spend the cycle mourning the dead or something they lost. Almost all of Cybertron will scrub off their colors to lament.

The story of the Fallen is retold to the young through quiet retellings. The old will gather and quietly grieve whatever they have lost. Often, those who grieve are not even grieving for themselves. If one has nothing to lament, then it is polite to lament alongside one who is suffering. Every mech is obliged to mourn alongside those who are already doing so. The religious aspect of the whole affair is found with the common prayer uttered by even the unfaithful in order to bring a cold comfort to they who suffer.

Those who follow the old faith know more of the Fallen, and instead of lamenting, they curse. They utter curses to keep the Unmaker away. They prepare elaborate strings of prayers to ensure that the evil cast away once never returns. They remember what was, and they fear its reawakening more than anything.

The Rite of the Arisen

There were genuine attempts made to turn the Rite of the Arisen into a holiday celebrating the reigning Prime, but that was shelved after a while. A separate holiday was made for that affair, leaving the Rite of the Arisen to fulfill its purpose.

The population are largely dubious about the mythical Thirteenth Prime, and often they can mix him and Primus together to create one legendary entity. This has resulted in the Rite of the Arisen turning into a celebration of the largest wave of newsparks to emerge from the Well each vorn. The cycle is never the same every vorn, so when it does come and the newsparks emerge, the rite is enacted in full. Every mech wanting to mentor a fresh mind will present themselves and go through a series of religious rites if they are faithful.

The Thirteenth represents rebirth, so often, those who recently passed away will have their designation given to one who emerges from the Well. A name can be left as an inheritance, and those who were given it can offer it to a newspark freely. It is a special event, a bond between the young and the old. There is no specific procedure, it simply it. The magical experience of watching new life emerge from Cybertron's core is special enough.

Those who adhere to the old faith will watch every time the rite begins. They wait, they observe, and they eagerly hope for the cycle when the lost Thirteenth Prime will return to the living realm. Many a priest is there to watch and warily write down designations of those they may find of interest.

Life is a gift, and all of Cybertron knows that when the rite begins.

[luxaofhesperides]

Human/Mer AU + Bioluminescent Siren Duke ; requested by @justwannabecat!

The human hadn’t been in his territory recently. 

He wasn’t attached or anything, but Duke had started to look forward to seeing him around. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to be under the curious, watchful eyes of a human who could so easily be dragged down into the depths. 

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be indulging this human’s curiosity, trying to lure him closer time after time. Holding the attention of any human is dangerous; Duke’s heard the stories plenty of time. He’s seen the damage humans can do even more. 

There’s just something different about this human, who never dives too deep, who smiles at him and leaves little gifts in the tide pools tucked away from the rest of the beach, hidden from sight. Or rather, usually hidden from sight, since this human is the only one to go there. 

It’s foolish, but Duke actually misses his human. 

It’s not the first time he’d been gone for long stretches of time, but something feels off. There’s worry curling up at the base of his throat, making him swim to the surface more frequently. Steph had given him a look when she caught him, but didn’t say a word. She shouldn’t, really, when she’s been sneaking up to the surface for her own human friend, some small, dangerous human with dark hair and hands that speak more than a voice.

He’d seen her, just once, when he had gone up to splash water and his human then swim away.

Somehow, things felt easier back then. Like the horrors of the world couldn’t reach them among those tide pools. 

It’s reached them now.

Duke’s not expecting to see his human when he swims up to the surface. He’s expecting another quiet night, an empty beach, a dark sky with only the moon casting its lonely light down onto him. 

But when he swims up, his eyes go to a figure on the beach instantly. 

Even from this distance, Duke knows: that’s his human.

He doesn’t think before he’s swimming over, pushing himself faster than he’s ever gone before. It’s low tide, so he can’t get as close as he wants and can’t reach most of the tide pools at all, but it gets him close enough. Human and merfolk vocal chords are different; he can speak in water, but can’t make more than a few hums in air, and humans can’t really do anything in water at all. 

His human is sitting with his knees tucked into his chest on the beach. He’s hiding in his clothes, a hood pulled over his head, but he looks up when Duke drags himself onto the sand. 

Duke can see bruises. Dried blood. A stray tear slipping out of his eyes. 

He wants to ask what’s happened? But all that comes out is a low crooning noise. 

His human laughs, a quiet, bitter noise that makes Duke’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Hey,” he rasps in a low voice. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve had a better time than I did.”

Duke can’t reach his human. The distance between them isn’t great, but it’s too much. He’s already partially out of the water, hands sinking into the wet sand just out of reach of the waves, and he can’t get any farther out. He reaches a hand out, silently pleading for his human to come closer.

The move makes his human soften, some of the hard edge of tension in his body melt away. He gets up and walks into the water, then sits down next to Duke, taking his hand. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

If they were underwater, Duke would be able to say I missed you too. Don’t ever go away so long again. But his human is in no shape to go underwater right now, so Duke presses his hand against his lips and hums lightly. 

They sit in silence for a moment, and Duke realizes that he’s never been this close to any human before. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels like relief, to finally have his human in his reach, safe from the rest of the world. 

He gives him human another moment, then reaches out and carefully pushes his hood back. His human allows it, blinking at him slowly. Without the shadow of the hood, Duke can clearly see the bruise coloring his cheekbone and the cuts going down his temple to his jaw. His split lip is still red with blood, and what little of his throat isn’t hidden by his clothes reveals more bruises wrapped around the delicate column of his neck. 

Duke ghosts his fingers over each of these injuries, hating how easily humans hurt each other. His human leans into the touch despite how it must hurt, something devastating in his expression. 

Who hurt you comes out as a questioning trill. Somehow, it gets the point across.

“It’s alright,” his human says. “Really. I’m not even that hurt. It’s just been a long few months. We never talk much, so you wouldn’t know this, but I have to fight a lot of people. Perils of being a hero, you know?”

Duke knows about heroes. More specifically, he knows about mer heroes. He’s considered being one himself, but the currents shifted and he ended up more a loner, banding with the other rejects of the city to live in the fringes and help only those who wander out too far from the marginally safer waters within. 

He hasn’t heard of any human heroes, but then again, he doesn’t know much about humans at all. Nothing beyond the stories all parents tell their children to scare them away from the surface, or the horror stories kids tell each other in the middle of the night when they want to scare each other.

He hums again to let his human know he’s listening. His human has such a nice voice. Why haven’t they done this before? 

It’s always been a push and pull between them, carefully keeping their distance but always circling back to each other. Duke would let his human swim with him, and his human would let Duke sit safely on the other side of a tide pool, tossing sea shells back and forth between each other.

They don’t even know each other’s names. 

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could go back in time and do things better. But he’s happy here with his human and he doesn’t want to lose this either.

He’ll just have to make the best of what he has. It’s how he’s always lived after his parents disappeared.

“This really isn’t that bad,” his human says, “I’ve taken worse hits before. It’s just that I couldn’t transform before the attack started, so now my human form is bruised too.”

…Human form? The more Duke hears, the more questions he has. 

Duke hums at a lower octave, placing a hand over his human’s chest. 

His human laughs lightly. “Yeah, I guess we’ve never really talked much about ourselves, did we? I’m human, don’t worry, just not all the time. I… actually, I died a few years ago. But I came back partially. So I’m also half dead still and I can transform into a ghost to fight threats. I’m a hero called Phantom. Actually, Danny Phantom since I was stupid enough to just give out my first name when I started out. In my defense, my brain was still a little fried.”

There is so much he wants to say to that. He tries, and makes a series of low hums and clicks in the back of his throat, staring at Danny (he finally got his human’s name!) incredulously.

“I promise I’m fine,” Danny continues. “It was just a bit rough. As soon as I get some time to recover, I’ll be good as new! And I really did miss you, you know. Didn’t even go home first, just come straight here.”

That’s honestly really sweet. Duke hums again, a lighter pitch, and takes hold of Danny’s wrist and tugs him towards deeper waters. 

“What? You want me to go in?”

Duke nods, already shuffling his way back out of the sand. 

He expects to look awkward during the process. What he most definitely doesn’t expect is for Danny to easily pick him up and walk them both into the ocean.

Listen. Duke is not a small mer. He’s big. He’s got a long, heavy tail and wide fins going down his back, his forearms, and the sides of his tail. It’s a struggle for him to fit into seaweed nests with his friends during the colder seasons, often left to balance on the edge with his tail hanging out. His friends struggle to pull him through the water with his weight. His parents weren’t able to hold him much after he started growing.

None of this matters to Danny, who acts as if Duke weights nothing at all. 

To his great embarrassment, his fins flare in appreciation for Danny’s strength. He was not expecting a human to be so strong, but Duke’s not about to lie to himself and say it’s not attractive. 

He trills to Danny, who laughs again, then falls into the water, taking them both under. 

Duke doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Danny and swims them further out. He stays close to the surface so Danny can rise for air as needed, but he makes no move to leave Duke’s side even after a few minutes.

He glances back, concerned, when he sees that Danny is watching him with dark eyes, not breathing at all despite being conscious.

Danny holds up a finger and closes his eyes. Two rings of light appear around his waist, then split apart and pass over his body. Instantly, Danny’s body becomes lighter, as if Duke’s hand is grasping at a current on the seabed. His hair turns white and his eyes glow from how bright of a green they are, but there’s something inhuman about his features now, something that makes him look different beyond just physical features. 

Well. Danny did say he could transform.

Now that they’re underwater, Duke can finally speak. The first thing he asks is, “What was that?”

Danny grins at him. “That,” he says, speaking with ease as if he’s not underwater at all, “was my transformation. And this is my ghost form. Quite the look, isn’t it?”

“You can talk down here?! Also, hi, my name’s Duke. Since I never introduced myself.”

“Ghosts can do a lot of things,” Danny answers with a cheeky grin. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been calling you glowfish in my head this whole time.”

“Glowfish?”

“Yeah. Because you, you know,” Danny gestures vaguely at him, “Glow.”

Duke glances down at his back fins, which are indeed glowing. They flare a bit from embarrassment, which just makes the dots of light lining the fins more visible. He doesn’t glow a lot, keeping a tight hold of that ability, but sometimes it comes out anyways when he’s feeling especially happy.

And apparently, he’s always very happy around Danny. 

It’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know what that means, because if anyone of his friends found out, they’d laugh at how obvious he’s being. Drawbacks of being somewhat bioluminescent: anyone familiar with mers who have this feature know exactly what the glow means. 

“Right,” he says just a beat too late. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, can you tell me how you really feel? Those injuries didn’t look too good.”

“It’s fine, really! I take harder hits all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Danny doesn’t answer for a long moment, then sighs. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

“Stay with me for tonight,” he says. “You’ll be safe. You can rest and heal and I’ll keep you safe from anything that comes looking for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Danny doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be exhausted. “Yeah, alright. Take me away, Duke. You know, this is like those stories about sirens luring sailors down into the depths.”

“Well, I am a siren.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I take after my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to sing.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about being dragged down to my watery death.”

Duke snorts. “Good thing you’re already a ghost then. Not much I can do to you down here.”

He swims down, heading towards a small cavern in a sea rock that he’s claimed as his own, leading Danny into it. The light from his fins illuminates the entrance and the rocks within, a narrow passage that goes in for a few meters before opening up into a larger space full of carefully tended to seaweed and starfish decorating the walls. 

There’s a nook tucked away in the back wall where he’s set up a seaweed bed, the plant braided together into something more solid. It’s big enough to fit his tail, which means it’s big enough for him and Danny. 

“Here,” he says, helping Danny down. “Get some sleep. Then you can tell me about what happened in the morning and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’m glad you’re here Duke,” Danny whispers, curling up on his side.  He holds Duke’s hand, twining their fingers together, and it’s as nice as it is strange to feel how cold Danny is in this form when he was so warm as a human. 

“I’ll always be here for you. You just need to come back to me.”

Danny hums, but doesn’t answer. It’s alright; Duke’s used to his loved ones leaving. He knows he can’t make them stay. All he can do is hope they return one day.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone in his home. There’s a communal cave where his friends stay that he visits when he gets lonely, but this place used to be for his family. Now it’s just him.

Him and Danny. 

The last time there was song in these walls, his mother was still around, singing him lullabies. 

Looking down at Danny, curled up and so strangely fragile looking, Duke feels the song build up in his chest. It slips out in low, soft notes, an old melody passed down through generations of their family. 

He sings Danny to sleep.

He sings and sings and sings until all his nightmares are soothed and dawn is almost upon them. 

It’s all he can do, so Duke sings and hopes it’s enough to keep Danny close to him for just a little longer.

[sillyguy-supreme]

i cannot be exposed to a whole entire keefe book i’m sorry. can we talk aboht the government atrocities what about the government atrocities shannon

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #3064

When libraries are not maintained they expand, swallowing cities block by block. If you run into a building too big to comprehend, that city has starved its library, and you should not go in. 

[absentlyabbie]

reading this book and it describes this fantasy tiered city built on the side of a mountain and it has one "impossibly long" stairway for traversing from one tier to another

and all i can think is "wow that is awful urban design."

without even getting into the inherent ableism (but hey! fantasy city with fantasy races which are naturally superior and therefore pretty much never experience disability, of course, because that's what superiority means) of the apparently sole system of traveling between levels of this city being stairs and only stairs, it's a freaking deathtrap.

one impossibly long unbroken stairway across the breadth of a tiered city built into the side of a mountain? no landings are described, even. without some kinda natural break, one moment of clumsiness or an unfriendly shove and someone is having a long, long tumble to a broken neck (and broken everything else.)

[redd956]

How to make a fantasy city seem fantastical

Have it reflect the city's culture, economy, and government

Add fantastical elements whenever you can, understandable to your worldbuilding

Remember how cities are made. Ask yourself how this city was made and why do people live here?

Exaggerate! Do it! Trust me it helps!

Use the worlds magic and technology to shape the city

Fantasy diversity

Make sure the city is a still a functioning place. (Food, labor, electricity for high technology)

Start with a "draft" version of the city, look at your draft and build upon it even further

Make fantastical elements seem or feel like this worlds norm. Make characters respond to fantastical elements with casuality.

Reflect fantasy versions of modern day phenomenon with your worldbuilding in mind (advertising, pet ownership, beauty standards, pastimes)

Think of who/what lives here, and how do they shape it. Harpys obviously won't have a city built the same as sirens.

[daisy-mooon]

Sci-fi worldbuilding ideas for your city planets :)

If the planet is entirely city, where does the oxygen come from? Are their farms dedicated to producing oxygen? Special factories? Are there plants that produce oxygen very quickly all over the planet? Do you have to pay an oxygen tax?

Does the planet have natural water? Are the oceans untouched, incorporated into the city, or have they been drained and the water used for things in the city? What is it used for? Drinking, dams, hydroelectricity, food production, etc?

How deep does the city go? Has the planet been mined into to create more space? Is geothermal energy used? Are the bottom levels reserved for things such as sewage, electricity production, factories, prisons, etc?

What is transportation like? Are there roads, floating roads, or are trains and trams used instead? Are planes used? Is transportation fast enough to quickly travel across time zones?

How is food produced? Is it imported, or is it grown on planet? A combination? Think about greenhouses, factorised farms, vertical farming projects, etc. If oceans are left relatively untouched, is food produced in it? Are fish kept? Are there ration laws?

Are the poles less occupied than the rest of the city? Are they used for storing frozen goods, super computers? On a planet with no oceans, is ice and snow valuable?

The same goes for the equator of the planet. Is it more or less occupied? Is the heat used for anything? Are there solar panel farms? Air conditioning?

Are there parks and protected areas of nature? Ancient gardens, important forests, sacred land? Are there laws about chopping down trees? Are there farms for trees and plants? Are their plant shops, and are they expensive? In Star Wars, a part of Coruscant's highest mountain is a public monument that you can look at - are parts of mountains, rare ores, fossils, etc, preserved?

Not all sci-fi cities look the same. Coruscant has skyscrapers arranged in a very chaotic manner, stretching incredibly deep and incredibly high, and there is almost no plant life or natural parts of the planet to be seen. Xandar is arranged neatly with very similar style buildings whilst remaining relatively low rising compared to other city planets, and has lots of greenery and a fairly untouched ocean. Wakanda is relatively defined in layout, with a mixture of plants and buildings, houses and skyscrapers, with every building being unique. Draw inspiration from whatever you like.

Write whatever you want, even if it's common or cliche. It doesn't matter if it has been done before, because it hasn't yet been written by you.

Happy worldbuilding!

[luciusfelimus-nox]

E C U M E N O P O L I S

Art by: Lucius Felimus

[technicallyclassyperfection]

Via print:

[guttertongue]

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