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hauntedziosportrait · 7 months

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WHAT THE HELL GABE'S AJ AU / Epilogue 💫

🖋️ NOTES:

So erm. Hey jamblr. Here's that au I promised you. It is lacking a name. This is currently a huge HUGE HUGE wip but what I will say is i have had this headworld and story in my brain for a pretty scary amount of time. Now I am making the mature decision and taking a step from imagining animatics in my head to making an actual story!! As of right now, I have very intense artblock, so I'm bringing it upon myself to write for this AU instead!!

This was inspired by probably a lot of stuff, notably FOTS by Greeky and a whole bunch of AJ headcanons I have mashed together into a slightly salty stew.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

An insatiable amount of cringe

The very original idea of an apocalypse AU

Autism

Greely says a bad word and instantly gets sent to the seventh circle of hell

Enjoy jamblr. You stinky stinky individuals

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A delicate feather was carried by the wind from its birthplace and took time to settle as the wrath of the winds sailed it about the sky endlessly. This delicate feather- she, a delicate feather, had lesser expertise with a realm such as this. Despite never having seen it, she had heard innumerable myths and legends about it and had researched Jamaa throughout the ages. As she landed amidst the chaos and apocalypse, she spread the scrolls of her map with two eager wings. She then, excited as can be, soared up and above the lands to look down on it, comparing it to the papyrus in her grasp. Apart from some tiny geographic inaccuracies, she was mostly right about what she thought Jamaa would resemble. Her sole hyperfocus for as long as she had been living was right here in front of her. Her map and other tools of the trade were no longer necessary.

She went by the name Io'lani, and if she had friends, they would undoubtedly refer to her as Lani, but since she didn't, that was that. Her name meant "royal hawk", although she was neither royal nor a hawk. She had been around a very long time but mostly in captivity; her living quarters resided in some sort of third-dimensional space as she watched the centuries go by. Originally, she was created to be a faux offspring for the two guardian spirits to embrace and love as their own, the way parents would cherish a newborn babe, but their heavenly duties consistently got in the way of that. She wasn't necessarily forgotten, neglected, or abused- but her existence was merely an afterthought for the Sky Mother Mira, and barely a thought at all for the (mostly) unaware Zios.

Promptly, as a being of balance, and the product of the two holy deities that brought life to Jamaa, Io'lani's emergence in a time of destruction and despair was foretold in literature and books written by the most fanatical of scholars and theorists.

Io'lani emerged, of course. I just described her descent to you. The problem was that she wasn't quite sure what she was meant to do.

Her eyes darted as she stared at the gloomy surroundings. Buildings once bursting with life had been knocked down and torn apart for materials by scavenging jammers who were desperate to survive. The greenery and plants were now wilted and desaturated. The rivers, now a goopy inkwell. Once there were animals united by friendship, now wicked phantoms united by their desire to destroy and multiply. The hiss of black smoke filled Io'lani's lungs and she coughed, covering her beak with the edges of her mask.

This is not how Jamaa was supposed to be. Where were the cheers and laughter of water slides, movie theatres, and young mammals venturing out into the wild? Where was the happy haven that she had been assured existed? As she floated and landed at different locations, pointing to her whereabouts on the map, she analyzed her positioning with precise craftsmanship.

Crystal Sands' warm, golden shoreline had vanished and been replaced with a gritty, black, and grey substance that was scorching to the touch. Jamaa Township's characteristic swirling pavement was no longer present; instead, a sizable crevice divided the town's center in half. Phantoms emerged from these recesses, spreading their purple muck and cackling maliciously as they advanced to wilt the fauna.

Jamaa was not intended to be like this. Io'lani quietly descended and fell to her knees in front of a violet flag that had been suspended from the arcade's former roof. It had been shredded at the ends, painted with a sinister expression, and pasted all over the lifeless hamlet. The photograph was of the Phantom Queen, or PQ as she liked to be addressed by her subjects, and a message was scrawled in goopy black ink over her portrait.

And this was everywhere, mind you. The phantom propaganda was affixed to masonry and stone throughout the featureless plains. The Queen's vile grin was still present, along with the same stern call to repent. Io'lani scurried desperately and frantically, zipping to each of the wrecked locals on her map and urgently hoping to find at least someplace not entirely defunct. The statue of Zios was gone completely, presumably taken as a trophy by the Queen herself.

She slid against a jagged rock in Balloosh, the place least subject to destruction and where she had initially started her quest. To her knowledge, there was a power within the marsh- a strong power. She could feel the sheer electric of protection in her bones, the blazing blue light shimmering in her peripherals.

She wept silently, her tears ink-black and resembling the slime of the phantoms. Her tears flowed into her wings, and as she trembled and wept, her voice had a pitiful catching. Any sign of goodwill was absent. What's more, a sheer lack of both guardian spirits, ironically not doing a very good job at guarding or keeping up spirits. There was no point in visiting the place she had wanted to for epochs when it was torn and forgotten. No alphas to save the day, except the elder wolf sitting across from her, giving her a sympathetic glare.

Wait.

As she made touch with the blue-gray canine, she gasped and the emerald glint in her eyes resurfaced. Her thoughts searched for why he was so familiar to her until she caught on. This was Greely, first name unknown, the alpha philosopher with an interest in all things macabre. Except it wasn't quite Greely, for this wolf was bruised and had an ear torn, his golden bejeweled accessories cracked and corroded in ash. He looked older than what Io'lani had seen of him in stories, and less well-kept. He had a husky growl in his voice, reaching out an injured paw towards the skittish heron.

"I was hoping I'd... end up stumbling into you." He groaned.

"Do you know me?" Io'lani replied, her voice just above a whisper.

Greely bared his teeth, before turning his head and looking to the side. "I have... heard such things about you. You're the one who's meant to make this hell disappear. Are you deliberately wasting time here?"

Io'lani frowned as Greely raised his voice to her, the confusion and anxiety settling in her stomach. Greely's gaze pierced right through her and was even more intimidating than she had anticipated. Ultimately, she spoke up, clearing her throat and gripping her trusty map defensively in one wing.

"I don't know what exactly I'm meant to do."

Greely paused.

"Shit."

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👍

#So erm jamblyboos what did you think #Admittedly this is not the first time I have written for the AU but right now I am attempting to #Make it work per se #It revolves around the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE aka io'lani #but uhhh ideas criticism appreciation etc is very much encouraged!!#also if you like this feel free to drop me asks!! im currently trying to worldbuild and asking me questions would be so helpful #ALSO SUGGEST NAMES FOR THIS TOO!!! My brain ISN'T braining!#jamblr #animal jam #animal jam lore #animaljam #writing #animal jam au #greely aj #ajpw #ajpc #ajc

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rearranging-deck-chairs · 22 days

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ohh i really like the doctor's speech in eotd in french? like the delivery is really good but also i feel like it just flows better? might just be bc of how it starts like idk "parce que, devant l'insurmontable, on essaie" is just way more of a running start than what it is in english. maybe i just like big words but damn thats nice. the first sentence in english isnt even a full sentence, it's a fragment. hang on im typing this out to compare

Parce que, devant l'insurmontable, on essaie. Ça ne marche pas, on reessaie. On apprend. On se perfectionne. On échoue de nouveau! Mais un peu moins. On se fait des amis. On apprend la confiance. On apprend à s'entraider. On n'y arrive toujours pas, mais on s'améliore, on s'entraide jusqu'à ce qu'en fin, on réussisse. Parce que c'est ça le fondement de l'existence et c'est mieux que le renoncement. Alors debout vous les humains qui êtes si brillants! On repart à l'attaque, et on triomphe. D'accord?

Because something seems impossible. We try, it doesn't work, we try again. We learn, we improve, we fail again, but better, we make friends, we learn to trust, we help each other. We get it wrong again. We improve together, then ultimately succeed. Because this is what being alive is. And it's better than the alternative. So come on, you brilliant humans. We go again and we win. Deal?

hjkhgj funny how much longer the french is. anyway. i think i like it better in french for real. im like hell yeah i'll go and get exterminated again to try and make this work. i cant even say whats better abt the french maybe the only difference is that i speak it worse bc it's not like they changed anything really?? i think if i had to pinpoint it it's in the start and the end only. devant l'insurmontable on essaie and on repart à l'attaque et on triomphe like idk theyre just...evocative words i guess? insurmontable, essaie, repart, attaque, triomphe. thats the essence of what shes saying basically

i also like debout for come on and le fondement de l'existence et c'est mieux que le renoncement. maybe i just like long words

#props for real to the voice actress whose name i dont know tho i think she did a really really good job here #i think part of it might also be that i think the french sentences are completer #i think that works better #if you want to make an impact #i also feel like the words are more specific but im 90% sure thats just my french being worse #'succeed' is not a less specific word per se #or trust or fail or alternative #they just feel more specific in french to me bc ive seen them less in french #bc ive seen literally every word less often in french than in english

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pbaintthetb · 9 months

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Since you're currently rewatching House... "I wish you would write a fic where" the MDZS crew are in a modern day AU and NHS drags NMJ to House because of his strange qi deviation symptoms :) Bonus points if Wen Qing is one of House's interns!

oooh very interesting idea. So, I took a stab and have about 2.5k of random segments (not chronological sorry) I did find the voices kind of hard to get

s1-3 era i guess if only because it's the original duckinglins + wen qing. It's also slightly unclear whether cultivation exists in this and if so whether people know about it or not but eh

If i do more segments, becuase i had some in mind I will reblog this and add on to it but I make zero promises. Not sure how many of the things you wanted I hit but I had fun spitballing, even if the House and WQ voice is hard

***

“I didn’t realise they let war criminals work in hospitals these days,” Mingjue comments, it’s meant to sound idle, but to Huaisang it sounds icey. He expects it sounds pretty damn icey to Wen Qing too.

“Good thing I’m not a war criminal then,” Wen Qing refutes with a tight smile, moving her stethoscope to Da-ge’s back. Mingjue humphs, Huaisang digs into his thigh with his key through his trouser pocket and wishes he didn’t have to be so responsible.

Not because he wants Xichen or A-Yao to be doing this (not necessarily at least) just… Huaisang had moved heaven and earth to be here and frankly he’d rather not. They haven’t met Dr House either yet… though from what Nie Huaisang had read that might actually be a good thing.

He looks at his brother and Wen Qing again, her face is in deep concentration, and Mingjue’s is furrowed in an expression that means discomfort of some kind. What kind, Huaisang doesn’t know. For all he prides himself as a brother, he’s no expert in reading the microexpressions.

And a lot has happened recently, a lot of things that could be causing discomfort in all kinds of ways.

Or maybe it’s even guilt for how he’s been acting. Huaisang wouldn’t know. His brother has been a growing stranger to him these past few months. And then last night…

Nie Huaisang looks at his brother in Wen Qing’s hands and thinks about maybe getting some air, maybe even going on a walk to the coma ward. But he can’t bear to leave his brother, and as he looks at Wen Qing, he feels- somewhat despondently- that she’s a lot stronger than he is.

But Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to be strong, Da-ge’s strong, Huaisang is persistent and weak. Which is why he’s dragged his brother here, despite all the complaining. He knows he’s only being humoured, and he knows why he’s being humoured.

But Huaisang will take a hundred burnt fans if it means a healthy Da-ge. Besides, a hundred burnt fans would still leave the nice one Jiang Cheng got him after they left that Gusu Summer camp a while back.

“How long have you been having these symptoms?” Wen Qing asks clinically, bringing Huaisang’s focus back into the room. He chides himself, what is the point of being here if he doesn’t pay the utmost attention?

***

“Don’t you wonder how your intern and Guangyao know each other?” the big guy demands. The way the big guy spits the name suggests some kind of history there. House is kind of interested, except he expects it’ll be pretty banal so, maybe not.

“I don’t know,” House drawls, twirling his cane, “She’s a renowned doctor, he’s an innovative music therapist, both working at hospitals in New Jersey- of course!” he gasps sarcastically, “Did they meet in a sex dungeon?” He tuts, shaking his head, “Naughty, naughty Qing. First Chase, now her- do you reckon she uses those needles for extra-curricular purposes?”

Just for good measure House throws in a leer. If he’s reading this guy right, wound up and uptight as he is, he’s about to lunge. Which means House can get him restrained. Which means House has a better chance of doing the tests he wants with the consent of the obviously confused, and obviously devoted little brother.

There’s a story there too… but House has no time for sob stories.

The big guy stares at him flatly.

“There’s no shame in sex, that would be a stupid reason for me to be angry at them.”

Interesting.

“Whoa! Who said anything about being angry?” House asks all mock confused, “I thought we were just discussing how they met?”

The patient gives him another side eye.

“You’re not half as slick as you think you are.” With that the guy settles back down in bed.

Which is just hurtful really. Also interesting. House doesn’t exactly think he’s trying to be slick, so it’s interesting that the patient thinks he is.

***

“Cuddy’s been hunting House all day to get him to do his clinic hours,” the blond doctor explains, probably to his colleagues, because they adopt matching expressions of complete comprehension.

“Oh really,” Da-ge hums, expression unimpressed, and he’s looking right at Huaisang. Huaisang gulps. “Sounds lik-”

Whatever it was that Da-ge was going to say shirking work sounded like (and Huaisang has really no idea!) is cut off by the sudden spew of blood from his mouth.

Sadly- and it really is, at this point Huaisang is kind of used to it so he’s not even-

He’s not even surprised.

He still screams and flinches though, crying and begging the doctors to do something.

And they do, running around, saying words just short of a yell that all sound very serious and complicated. So Nie Huaisang stops yelling, because nobody needs his words too.

***

Mingjue doesn’t like Dr. House because the man is a dick. It does not mean, however, that he doesn’t respect him. Dr House is honest, at least. Unlike some people. Dr House is honest about having no real regard for Mingjue, no respect for order or regulations, a purely academic understanding of morality and being a curmudgeony arse.

Nie Mingjue isn’t overly fond of Wen Qing either, though that’s less to do with her skills and her honour. Mingjue has faith in those because he’s experienced them first hand. He just doesn’t like her.

Plenty of people have done things they didn’t really like very much in circumstances they’d infinitely prefer to not be in. But there’s always a choice but Wen Qing had made hers, and Mingjue- well. What happened happened in the way it did.

House, Dr House is staring at him rather intently. Mingjue lets him, he’s used to being stared at. He hit six-foot when he was fourteen, and he’s six-four now with the breadth to match. And he’s used to being stared at because ever since their father died all the questions have been directed at him. And he’d certainly been stared at under Men- Jin Guangyao’s dark stare in that room wit-

Mingjue cuts off that train of thought, feeling his head pound. The Doctor is still staring at him, leaning forward.

“Your brother thinks you’re crazy, you know? Cuckoo, loo-loo, the whole works.”

Mingjue doesn’t say anything, his hands fist in the sheets. He knows. He knows Xichen thinks so too and that’s why nobody ever listens to anything he says. They look at him and see his father twenty years too soon.

But Huaisang didn’t drag him here to have his head looked at. Huaisang’s happy to defer to Xichen and the rat about that. Mingjue knows that, he knows that. He’s here because Huaisang sees their father twenty-years too soon and there’s been a countdown going off in his didi’s head since the first time he found the bloody tissues Mingjue had stuffed in the bin in an ill-thought out plan of hiding them.

Honestly though, how was he to suspect Huaisang would be looking in the rubbish, the little brat never did any tidying and now Mingjue is here when it’s all-

“Huh,” Dr House says thoughtfully, “You do know. Maybe you’re not crazy then, crazy’s not usually so self-aware.”

Mingjue’s not so sure. Their father had been self-aware enough between all the moments where he wasn’t to be horrified. Not that that horror had done much, locked into an endless battle with their father’s pride. He’s not sure how to word all of this to Dr House, and he’s not even sure if he wants to. So he doesn’t.

Mingjue’s here because Huaisang wants him to be here and Mingjue wants Huaisang to be safe. Mingjue’s proud, but not so proud as their father. If he lashes out here there’s a syringe of haldol waiting for him and orderlies to hold Huaisang back.

Mingjue would prefer not to be here, but if Huaisang won’t let him alone (and Mingjue knows his didi can’t) then this is the best place to be.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away, you know,” the irritating doctor singsongs. It tempts Mingjue to try, even though he’s had years of a little brother and is very well acquainted with this fact.

***

“San-ge and Er-ge would never hurt Da-ge,” Huaisang objects, voice going high with his wail. They swore a brotherhood! Sure, things aren’t so good right now, but things aren’t always so good with Huaisang and Mingjue and neither would hurt the other.

The stupid Dr House just cocks his head. Wen Qing is standing a little behind him, face carefully blank.

“Very convincing. You convinced enough to stake your brother’s life on that?”

“I-” Huaisang starts, stops. Heart trembles. It feels like a betrayal. Saying no. Saying yes.

He looks at Wen Qing and thinks about the coma ward, three floors down, 2 corridors across.

“I wouldn’t stake my brother’s life on anything,” he refutes. Concession, admission, permission, whatever.

***

“I don’t know,” Foreman responds, “My brother and I? We were never like that.”

Chase is sprawled out in a chair, Cameron is the same but she’s doing a much better job of making it look elegant. Foreman is leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped.

And Wen Qing is standing there, like it’s her first day again, an outsider.

It’s this case, she knows the patient and she doesn’t know him and she- Well she doesn’t know much about Huaisang. But A-Ning had said enough things before that she’s just…

But as much as she doesn’t really know either of the brothers, she does know this.

“Both their mothers died in childbirth, and their father’s been dead for over a decade,” Wen Qing interjects, walking over to the coffee pot so she doesn’t have to look at them. She thought she’d buried this when she’d moved here. Except for A-Ning; she could never bury him, Wen Qing refuses.

“They’ve only got each other.” The pot’s empty and she scowls in disgust. “Siblings like that- they either can’t stand each other or they’d do anything for each other.” Maybe both. She doesn’t think of a certain little brother of her own, because she’s on the job right now and even as she’s always thinking of him she can’t.

“They’re half brothers?” Cameron asks, and Wen Qing won’t take this accusation.

“Yeah it’s in their history, I-”

“No- no,” Cameron waves her off, “It’s just- Huaisang seems so convinced as much as it’s like their father’s illness, it’s different- and Huaisang seems utterly unaffected. What if it’s something Mingjue got from his mother?”

“What, like a completely different condition that just mimics the one his father had?” Foreman snorts, kicking out his legs, “That’s likely.”

“Or maybe…” Chase starts like he’s had a thought, “It’s some kind of [interaction]. He got his father’s illness, and he’s got something from his mother that’s making it act like this.”

They all consider that for a moment.

“We need to tell House.” Wen Qing’s already walking out of the room.

***

“The mental symptoms!” House yells, “The guy’s got fucking PTSD- and nobody noticed, not even his supposedly so devoted brother.”

“But-”

“Oh jeez, if only there was a reason that the mental symptoms were so much more aggressive and and in flux than what they reported of his father- if only there were a doctor on my team who knew the patient, but-”

Wen Qing burns, she burns so hard she can’t even hear the insult to her character House is no doubt lumping out. She can’t talk about this, she can’t.

Meng Yao’s, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, has good fucking lawyers, and enough skills to have kept himself alive under her Uncle’s watchful eye for a year. Wen Qing had signed, and signed, and A-Ning’s upstairs and Meng Yao’s somewhere else and-

Mingjue is worth nothing compared to A-Ning, do no harm be damned. And not even Huaisang’s fury is enough of a motivation. She understand that fury, she understands it well, it burns inside her everyday her brother doesn’t wake up.

“I said,” Wen Qing hisses, aware of the stares of her fellow interns on her, and the genuine angry glare of House, “That I suspected he’d been through trauma recently- as did his brother!”

House does not look calmed in the slightest, he takes a step toward her.

“Well maybe next time use the word ‘torture’. It’s got a certain buzz that really makes it shine out as an alarm bell.”

Her ears ring, and ring. She can’t say anything, and if anyone else is speaking, she can’t hear it.

***

Wilson doesn’t know how he always ends up in House’s conference room dragged into a case that clearly isn’t cancer and therefore doesn’t need an Oncologist to consult. But, well, House is House (demanding bastard) and Wilson is Wilson (needy bitch) so maybe he does know.

The children as House would term them are all throwing out theories and Wilson is following along well enough to understand, but nothing’s sounding like cancer and House never hired Wilson so he’s not really giving out any theories.

That’s when the man walks in. Anybody unknown walking into Houses’ office can go a few ways, so Wilson preemptively prepares for something to be thrown. Except the guy’s just looking at Wilson.

“You have another doctor in your team?” the man asks House uncertainly, but he’s still looking obsessively at Wilson. It’s kind of weird.

“No, no, I’m just here as a consult,” Wilson explains politely, “Dr James Wilson.” He extends a hand.

The man- who’s kind of more of a kid takes it nervously, still staring at him.

“You’re an oncologist,” the unknown guy, who is probably related to House’s current patient in some way, states. Brother?

“Yeah I am,” Wilson chuckles awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. “How did you know that?” Because if he knew the patient knew he was an oncologist, he wouldn’t have said. Nobody likes hearing you’re an oncologist, unless you’re saying you’ll never see them again. And even then, sometimes they don’t like it.

“It’s on your door,” the brother of the patient says, still sounding uncertain. “Does this mean you think my brother has… uh- I mean, whatever it is that oncologists treat?” his voice has gone up at the end.

Mentally, Wilson is raising a brow, externally he is not. He is a professional and actually knows what the term ‘bedside manner’ means, unlike some people in this room.

House doesn’t raise a brow either, but that’s because House doesn’t believe in restricting yourself to non-verbal symbols of rude disbelief when words can be twice as insulting.

“Whatever oncologists treat,” House drawls mock sympathetic, the patient’s brother twitches with what could be embarrassment. “No, we don’t. Dr Wilson is just here to stare at Cameron’s ass. Or maybe Chase’s- who can tell them apart from behind?!”

Wilson looks to the ceiling for salvation while House guffaws and Chase and Cameron scowl.

The guy is still looking at Wilson, and taking pity, Wilson divulges.

“No, we don’t think he has cancer.”

The guy nods, not as if this is good news, but rather as if this is news he’s always known.

***

“Brother shops around for the best diagnostician he can find, but doesn’t even know what an oncologist is?” House shakes his head and helps himself to some of Wilson’s fries. Wilson offers a put-upon expression in return, but he hasn’t touched his drink so he’s probably not actually put upon. Besides, Wilson knows House is going to eat his food, if he wants it to stop happening he should stop buying it.

“So?” Wilson asks, playing his role of audience participation in their private one-man show as always. “I didn’t realise that your webpage had the definition of oncology on it- right underneath your name I suppose?.”

House shoots him a look for the snark. And the blatant missing of the obvious point.

“The first thing anybody does, when they google symptoms is find cancer,” House explains, Wilson nods, so maybe he gets it too now. Gets how weird it is- and House doesn’t like things that don’t make sense.

“Ok,” Wilson is still nodding and House takes some more fries while he’s distracted, “But isn’t he here because he thinks his brother has what their dad had? Which wasn’t cancer? So he doesn’t think it’s cancer, so doesn’t need an oncologist. He’s deadset on it being this one thing so he’s not looking at anything else.”

House shakes his head, he doesn’t know what it is or why it’s bothering him but it is.

“He’s here because he thinks it’s not operating like what their dad had, which is when worried younger siblings start running down the cancer route and looking for the best Oncologist they can find-” he shoots Wilson a significant look “-but he skips that altogether and brings his brother here- his sick brother who’s been sick for a while but only just agreed to come.”

It’s interesting, it’s a puzzle. House likes puzzles and he’d rather puzzle out what’s affecting the older brother right now, but a man can always multitask.

#mdzs #house md #crossover #nie bros #tumblr fic #fic #ask game #wip #very happy to talk further on this or answer questins about what other people are doing #other snippets i was interested in were house nad wq actually talking #one of the other ducklings trying to sus out nhs #jgy showing up and all the disaster that entails #nhs trying to get nmj away from jgy not becuase he has anything against jgy but #because he can see jgy makes his brother really uncomfortable and soz jgy we can only be friends when nmh isn;t around now #sibling issues #nhs is kinda very book dumb in this but he's reasonably perceptive and is activley upping his game becuase his brother is DYING #also a running theme is house being a brat to nmj #who doesn't like it per se but is well used to people hating work who want to get a rise out of him in order to get what they want akak nhs

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greatwyrmgold · 1 year

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Asa Mitaka: I'm so alone. Everything's been going downhill since my mom died. I've been rejected by everyone who I thought might like me. The only thing that puts up with me is the monster stuck in my head. What's the point of living?

Taylor Hebert: Have you considered becoming a superhero and recklessly attacking anyone who threatens innocents until you either die or get dragged out of your death spiral by some shady bystanders?

Asa: That is very specific advice.

#asa mitaka #taylor hebert #compare and contrast #I know I had to word some things weird to make the parallels work and cover for the lack of supervillains per se in CSM but eh #chainsaw man #manga #worm #parahumans

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artbyblastweave · 2 years

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I’ve tried and failed to get my thoughts out the door on this a bunch of times, but one thing about Worm is that I feel that it isn’t particularly didactic when it comes to its themes of decisive strongwoman authoritarianism vs ossified-but-marginally-more-accountable institutions, it doesn’t have a specific answer, the utility and glaringly obvious failure modes of both dynamics are on display throughout the book and often right on each other’s heels, Taylor’s decisive actions are frequently obviously the correct moral choice given the options available to her but are downstream of the poor decisions she made to get into a bind where she has to act alone, many of the Protectorate’s policies are obviously sound precepts to maintain from, like, a rule-utilitarianism standpoint but don’t survive contact with reality, the capstone of the book is an act of stunning unaccountability that worked but also wasn’t necessarily the only thing that could have worked.

The book doesn’t, to my mind, provide a clear resolution to this question (because there isn’t one) and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that fandom morality debates down this channel are some of the most genuinely heated and aggressive that I’ve seen. My Big Discourse Nightmare Scenario for Worm getting big has never so much been the representational stuff, because I suspect a lot of that would get sniped in the edit now that people’ve been complaining about it for 10 years. It’s the idea of the book catching the attention of people who feel like stories are obligated to answer these questions (and in a specific way!) instead of just raising them or exploring them.

#Time for some tag falsetto voice that I also want to include but don't want to upset the punchiness of the first two paragraphs #One thing I don't really like to do is generalize about dark matter fandom-#which is the term I use for when people assume that there's a seething unseen mass of hypothetical fans #who MIGHT #be behaving in an irritating way #or reading the work incorrectly #it's the group-level version of Making Up A Guy To Be Mad At #and it often belies a sense of intellectual superiority/assumed lack of interiority that I don't like to see on myself in the mirror #that said #I feel reasonably confident that this would be a thing #based on that recent spate of Breaking Bad posts #showcasing people taking pride in their refusal to engage with what the show was saying and doing #in favor of the sanitized wholesome version that lives in their heads #wormfic #to an extent #already demonstrates trends in this direction through the tendency to flatten/woobify/run defense for everyone #instead of engaging with how fucked up everyone is #that's flavored by the spacebattles/reddit approach but it's a similar impulse I think #in the end I don't think I'm wrong per se #to imagine a hypothetical subset of worm readers who Fundamentally Do Not Get It in the way I'm describing were the book to get big #because it's a numbers game #But!#It also feels senselessly uncharitable to dwell on their hypothetical existence too much #and sometimes hypothesizing them in the first place feels like it's toeing that line #so feel free to jump in if you feel like I'm #you know #doin the thing #worm #wildbow #parahumans

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ozcarr-remade · 11 months

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Conceptualizing and home-brewing venomous desert-dwelling tieflings like you wouldn’t believe.

Ruined by my current campaign and compelled to make the type player character that wears wrangler jeans in a high fantasy setting

I think her goal is to invent the motorcycle because I’m enamored with a hypothetical canon where biker jackets and boots exist but nobody’s thought to make Harleys yet.

#she’s not FOR anything per se #but I thought it’d be nice to have someone ready in the wings the next time I gotta make a guy for a silly goofy campaign #I think mechanically the scorpion thing would work like… how run you make a winged Tiefling yountrade in their magic ability for flight?#like it’s a trade off #tiefling #D&D #origional character #OC #desdemona duke #myart

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feeblescholarmyass · 1 month

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did I originally buy the book of Nakahara Chūya's poems for the bit? yes.

have I now discovered a love for poetry that previously was dormant? also yes

#seriously #his poems arent about making a story per se #but they create a *moment*#a feeling #that he conveys so perfectly its hard to describe to someone that hasnt read them #honest to god some of my favorite literary works #my second favorite poet (edgar allan poe) has nothing on him

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