#if I had the energy to rewrite it…

[sapphicauntie]

anywayyyy

[ganondoodle]

zelda comic, totk rewrite, game stuff/pixelart, ocs are all fighting for attention in my head and i just end up sitting and staring blankly for hours aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh

[gumjester]

guys it's fucking happening it's . i've. thronecoming chapter 1 done

[deluweil]

Stg sometimes I just want to sit and rewrite every single 911 episode since S4, maybe some of S3, but not all of it. Make it an amazing alternate storyline.

Spoiler alert Buddie would have been fucking since quarantine only no one knew.

Also buddie got to be openly canon once Eddie broke up officially with Ana.

Coz, you know, drama, denial and shit would have been epic.

And that bitchy break up was the most impressive one and amusing in this whole show.

Also, fires, we would have firefighters fighting fires. I know it's a foreign concept in this show, but hear me out...

[gracebethartacc]

soooo I had a lore idea earlier that ties into the rewrite really well,,,,,,

Poor unfortunate souls am I right :)

[dragonknightofsummerset]

Just finished Fennorian's quest in West Weald! It was fun working with Fenn again 🥹

However, for ME, I would've liked if there was more flavor text for vampire characters 😭 like us also saying the grapes are tantalizing & making us thirsty, or telling Ursilia that yes, she smells good to vampires, much to her dismay lol

And since I doubt this happens, IF you aren't playing a vampire, the quest should have had your 'mortal' character drink the wine & tempt Fennorian with that, just saying cause you know 👀

I do like that we get to see more of his alchemical knowledge though

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 3

ch. 1 ch. 2

Word count: 3421 Warnings: violence A/N: wow, seems this fic is bound to be updated every two years or so... seeing the surge in interest to it after a couple of my reblogs, so hope you enjoy it!

A key turning in the lock woke Tommy up. Through a small window on the door he could see someone’s neck, and the window was located just a little below his eye level. Tommy blinked in confusion – was the guest really that tall? – but the answer came a second later.

Yeah, the guest – a nurse, judging by the white coat - was tall, even taller than Tommy, which was a rarity. The nurse’s long blond hair was tied down into a ponytail, but a few stray locks rested on his neck, moving slightly by the draft from the hall. Tommy was so captivated by them he didn’t notice the awkward pause which the nurse also aptly used to stare back at the new patient. The regular staff that wasn’t informed about Tommy was probably equally mystified by the new guy, Tommy later realised.

The nurse was the one to break the silence.

“Lee, right?” he said, glancing at a piece of paper in his hand. “The newbie?”

Tommy only nodded, examining the nurse’s face. Tiredness hid in the corners of his eyes, in the curves of his lips, in the delicate circles of his nostrils. If he had some good night’s sleep, Tommy would call him handsome. If let down, his hair (dyed very coarsely, with black roots visible; the asylum dress code was sure way laxer than at Bass estate) would probably reach his shoulder blades; his lean body wore a white robe like others would wear gowns.

“Do you have like, a surname or something?” the nurse looked back at the paper, then up at Tommy again, frowning. “There’s only “Lee” here.”

Oh, how clever of his father. Just take away his name, refuse any mentions of Tommy belonging to his family. Just Lee. That’s what was seemingly written in his medical history, or what the nurse was holding there.

“It’s Tommy, actually,” Tommy said. “Tommy Lee”.

“Ah, good,” the nurse smiled friendly, and it was like a whiff of warm wind in the cold air of the room. “Tommy Lee it be, then. Some patients don’t even remember their names,” he explained. “A couple more questions. Who is the king of our kingdom?”

“King?” Tommy blinked in confusion. “I thought we have a queen.”

“Correct. And what year it is now?”

“Eighteen ninety-two?”

“Correct,” the nurse nodded, making a note on the paper, “again. At least you’re aware of your surroundings.” He looked over Tommy and frowned again. “What brought you here? You look and sound normal.”

“Not for long,” Tommy promised glumly. He never knew when exactly it was going to hit him, but it always came back, earlier or later.

“Huh, alright then.” The nurse didn’t look wary at all. On the contrary, he smiled warmly. “We’ll see. Now, I’ve gotta see you off to the canteen. It is said here,” he pointed at the paper, “that you should eat not with patients, but with staff. We’ve never had such requirements before. Also all of this,” he waved his hand around, meaning, probably, the carpet and the curtains, “not something you usually see in a public asylum. I guess whoever put you here wanted to make sure your life is alright, as much as it can be alright in this place.”

“I guess.” Tommy shrugged, trying not to give away the emotion that overcame him. This name would never leave his life completely, hard as he tried to erase it. Basses even here had it better than everyone else.

“You guess,” the nurse confirmed seriously. “Now, Mr. Tommy Lee, I shall see you off to the canteen, so get out of bed. Have you got your hospital robe already?”

“Should I?” Tommy frowned. He hadn’t seen these robes yet, but he suspected they would be far from fashionable. And fashion was probably the only thing in the world Tommy actually cared about.

“I guess?” the nurse said at first seriously, but then couldn’t hold back a laugh at. “Yes, Mr. Tommy Lee. You may be dining with the doctors but you’re still a patient.”

“I’m not like them,” Tommy resented. “I’m not going to wear it. I have enough of my own clothes.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow, suddenly serious. “Listen, Mr. Tommy Lee. Whoever you were in life, here you are just a patient. Like everyone else. Even the curtains in your room don’t change that. You do what the nurses tell you to do, or they’ll do that against your will.” He talked calmly, not a hint of anger on his face or in his voice, but it still sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. He wasn’t used to being ordered around like that. The urge to lower his gaze overcame him, but he pushed it away – he isn’t submitting to some nurse in a public asylum! His father might be a total asshole, but what he did teach Tommy was that Basses had the right to demand respect from anyone anywhere. Even here.

But Thomas Bass Sr. no longer had a son.

The silence in the room got heavier with every second. The nurse kept looking at Tommy with his clear, calm eyes. And Tommy hurriedly tried to come up with a witty answer.

The nurse tilted his head to the side, examining Tommy from head to toes.

“Get up.”

“I told you I’m-“

“Get up, I need to see your measurements,” the nurse interrupted him. “I just wanna see how tall you are. We may not have anything of your size.” He looked critically over Tommy and shook his head. “No. You’re too tall. We’ll have to alter some that we have… Alright. You can wear this to breakfast. But it’s only for this day. Get it?”

Tommy just nodded, not sure how he was supposed to react. He was convinced they would force him into a hospital robe sooner or later – but for now, it was postponed. And tomorrow he’ll come up with something else.

“Now, come with me,” the nurse turned to the door. “I shall see you off to the canteen - finally.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, and he meant it all the way. “What’s your name, by the way? There’s no one to introduce us to each other, unfortunately, so I have to ask you directly.”

“My goodness,” the nurse smiled, “you surely are different. I like it, though. This place can make you forget about basic manners. I’m Mckagan. Michael Mckagan.” He stretched out his hand.

Tommy shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mckagan.”

“Oh, come on. No misters here. You can call me Duff, just don’t do it in front of the doctors.”

Duff? What kind of name was that? It sounded more like a sound an animal would make. Though who was Tommy, who just discarded his surname, to judge?

“Sure.”

“You must be thinking now who the fuck would call themselves like that?” the nurse- no, Duff, - laughed. “I get it. It’s just my preference. If you like Michael more, go by it.”

“Why would I? So many Michaels in the world, but I’m pretty sure you’re the first-” and the last– “Duff I’ve ever met.”

***

Tommy’s ward must have been far from other wards, because he only began seeing patients once he and Duff went down the stairs. Tommy thought seeing so many psychos in one place wouldn’t be much of a shock, as he has dealt with one for his whole life, but what he saw… well, it sure was depressing. There were different faces, young and old, some of them still with traces of their past beauty, others – with traces of the owner’s sins. But what scared him the most was the tiredness, the exhaustion ingrained in all the faces. It must be hard to bear the weight of a mental illness in such an unhospitable place like this. Would Tommy’s face look the same after a couple of years here?..

He looked at patients, and they looked back at him. All of them, each and every one. Their gazes were like insects on his skin, crawling and biting, getting into his ears and eyes. Tommy shook his head to shake them off, but it didn’t help. He barely managed to stop himself from grabbing Duff’s robe, but couldn’t help but raise his hands to his face to check if there were bugs there. There weren’t any, of course – they were always faster than him, faster by a tenth of a second.

They separated from the line of psychos near the stairs and climbed up. There it was, the canteen for the staff, on a balcony overseeing the main room where patients dined. Tommy suddenly realized he had absolutely no desire to go there. Among the insane he was a newbie, of course, but at least one of them; the staff was a completely different kind of crowd, and for some reason Tommy knew they wouldn’t be very welcoming to him.

His train of thought was interrupted: Duff opened the door and nudged Tommy inside. Suddenly, all eyes were on him – again.

Duff opened the door to leave, and Tommy began to panic.

“Wait, you aren’t going?” Tommy grabbed the sleeve of the nurse’s robe with all the force he could manage. Duff gently unclenched his fingers.

“Sorry, man, I’ve gotta look after the patients,” hesounded apologetic, but closed the door nevertheless, leaving Tommy inside with all those other doctors and nurses, not a single friendly face among them.

Turning around now felt like a torture. Everyone – every single one of the staff – was looking at him now.

“Hey, you! Wrong door?” a dark-skinned man with an impressive mane of curly hair called out. “This is the staff canteen. Yours is just down the stairs.”

“I was told I am going to eat with the staff.” Tommy felt a sudden urge to grab something and squeeze it, to let go the tension in his body.

“You?” the curly-haired nurse arched his eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

“It’s alright, Hudson,” someone suddenly called out from the back of the canteen. A man rose up from the table in the farthest corner, the only one that had tablecloth on it, and headed towards Tommy. The latter froze on place under an intent gaze of the man who was almost as tall as Tommy and twice as wide in the shoulders. “Mr. Duren talked to me about this. You must be Lee, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. Grab a plate and go get some porridge over there, in the corner.”

Tommy looked around once again, feeling like he was shrinking under all the gazes, looking at him with curious disapproval, like he was a bug under glass with a dozen of scientists looking at him from behind it. He wasn’t a bug. He didn’t want to be under glass every time he ate.

“Thank you, I’m not hungry,” he said quickly, opened the door and rushed down the stairs. There, in a much bigger but dirtier room, the patients were eating. Upon the first glance there wasn’t many of them, about seventy, but for such a number of people the room was strangely quiet. Those who spoke did so in hushed voices, and the bang of the door against the wall that Tommy pushed too hard echoed through the room, attracting their attention. Oh no.

The gazes of seventy psychos were making his skin itch, and a desire to just slam the door shut and retreat to the safe solitude of his ward overwhelmed him. By miraculous effort he forced himself to step into the room. Some gazes were curious, some indifferent, but all of them bore the mark of such weariness Tommy shuddered. Will he turn into something like that, with no desire to live whatsoever, in a few years?

He awkwardly made his way along the wall to the counter where they handed out food, grabbed a plate of porridge and headed to the only free spot he noticed. The patients at the table for some reason didn’t spread evenly along the bench, instead sitting in two clusters by both sides of the spot. When Tommy landed there, someone beside him exhaled loudly. Tommy looked there in confusion, but couldn’t pick out the one who did it. Frowning, he started eating the cold, sticky porridge, but didn’t get past two spoons.

The door opened again, and two people walked in. One was a red-headed nurse, young and handsome, with a grim expression on his face. Tommy’s gaze slid past him and stopped on the second one. The messy-haired blonde man in a straitjacket sauntered in as if he was the head of the place. The nurses at the counter and by the walls exchanged cautionary looks.

The nurse began to untie the knots on the straitjacket of the newcomer, who watched him lazily, with a one-sided grin. He told the nurse something, and the guy’s ears flushed pink while his fingers were fiddling with the knots.

Tommy looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on the guy. And, for some reason, on Tommy.

He blinked in surprise when the blonde gave the nurse a kiss on the lips, no shyness or restraint at all. He always thought such people would be more discreet in places like this, with the general attitude towards them in all-male spaces and the scarcity of women, but maybe that was a part of the man’s illness. The poor nurse stormed off, and the guy headed straight towards Tommy, waving his arms to warm them up.

He leaned at the table right across Tommy, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You must be the newbie.”

“News spread fast, I see,” Tommy said, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be, but at least it wasn’t shaking. The man had a bad atmosphere around him, something sinister in that crooked grin of his. Tommy couldn’t bring himself to look into his eyes, so instead he looked at his hands on the table. His knuckles were red and skinned. Did he get to put his fists to use often?

“No, I just never seen you before,” the man replied. “And with that face, I would have remembered you.” He smirked and curved an eyebrow, but the playful glint in his face went away as quickly as it came. “Now, you might not know that, which is the only reason why I still haven’t decked you in your pretty face, but that’s my spot. Get out.”

The audacity rendered Tommy speechless for a moment.

“But I was here first,” he said, gripping his spoon tighter, rage rising its ugly head inside his chest. He might be one of them now, but that didn’t mean they got to order him around. Especially this one, conceited like a barber’s cat.

“I don’t give a shit. Move your ass somewhere else,” the blonde leaned closer to Tommy, his eyes darkening. Tommy looked around nervously, but no one was willing to take his side, even the nurses talking quietly at the front of the room seemingly paid no mind to what was happening right in front of their eyes. Judging by the straitjacket in which the man arrived to the canteen, he was a dangerous patient. Weren’t they supposed to look after him?

“No,” Tommy said, the spoon in his hands on the verge of snapping in half. “I was here first.”

Someone let out a whistling sigh. The blonde tilted his head to the side, examining Tommy with his cold gaze. The tension between them was so intense the air seemed to warm up with just their gazes.

“Alright. Nobody will say I didn’t give you a chance,” the blonde said, and the next thing Tommy knew, his chair fell down and his head hit the floor from the powerful blow the man dealt him in the eye.

Well, that was fucking it. Holding onto the table, Tommy got up. His vision went black in the corners of his eyes, but he saw his target very well – the smug, content face with a mane of blonde hair around it.

Tommy punched him in the jaw and, miraculously, hit it, hard enough to make the man yelp and recoil. While he was recovering from the hit, Tommy jumped over the table, pushing several plates off it, and stood right in front of his opponent. The guy turned out shorter than him and barely reached his nose with the top of his head. And this shortie was talking shit?

Well, he asked for that. Tommy hit him again, this time in the stomach. The man dodged, but not completely, still stunned from his previous attack, and Tommy’s punch did elicit a groan from him. Tommy’s head was still spinning, blood rumbled in his ears, but it didn’t stop him from trying to kick the man in the shin, which he missed. The man used it to his advantage, grabbed Tommy by the hair and tried to punch him again. Tried, because that was when nurses ran up to them and pulled them apart. It took three nurses to hold the blond man in place – he was screaming bloody murder and kicking like crazy until the nurses pinned him to the floor and handcuffed his wrists behind his back. The hate in his undecipherable screams filled the air, to the point that Tommy could almost grab it with his hand, hate towards him or the nurses, he wasn’t sure. Two nurses were holding Tommy by the arms, but he didn’t try to fight, and they released him once the blonde man was out of sight. His screams could still be heard down the hall.

Everyone’s eyes were on Tommy now. The wide-shouldered nurse approached him.

“Lee! A fight, on the first day? You’re a delight to have in the hospital, I see,” he said. There was something uncanny in his voice, something Tommy didn’t quite get. Maybe it was Tommy’s sick imagination, seeing threat in everyone. “This is a surefire way to the solitary confinement, you know. Michael, take him to his ward. No breakfast for him today.”

“But I didn’t start it,” Tommy said somewhat defiantly. “I did nothing bad. Should I have let him just hit me like that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the nurse waved his hand. “We allow no fights in this facility. Michael! What are you waiting for?”

Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but Duff’s strong fingers already squeezed his arm and pulled him forward, to the door out of the canteen. After several minutes of wandering along identical corridors and staircases, they arrived at Tommy’s ward.

“Are you alright?” Duff finally spoke. Tommy’s cheek still hurt from the punch, and sparks danced in front of his eyes with every movement of his head, but he only noticed that now, his mind having been replaying the fight scene in front of his eyes all that time. His knees suddenly went slack, and he plopped down onto the bed with a groan.

“Just a bruise,” he winced, carefully touching his cheek. The punch was solid, but didn’t break anything. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know Dr. Duren has ordered to let Wharton out of the padded cell,” Duff said guiltily. “He only spent a night there. Usually they keep him there for at least a day.”

“A day?” Tommy frowned. “And all that time - in the straitjacket?”

“Yeah.” Duff shrugged. “Don’t feel sorry for him, Tommy. He deserves twice more than that. He’s a curse of the whole asylum.”

Tommy remembered the almost inhuman screams and shuddered. “Why… why did he do that? People would have moved to give him some space if he asked.”

“You’re a newbie,” Duff said, “no doubt he wanted to pick at you – to test you, maybe. He’s also… well, let’s say you should never turn his back to him when in the shower. He’s obsessed with sex and violence. A delight to have in the hospital, like nurse Simmons says.” He reached for the doorhandle, but turned back to Tommy to say something again. “Sorry for what happened. I can’t bring you breakfast, but I have some crackers in my locker. You want them?”

“I’d like some,” Tommy nodded. “And what’s next? Am I just sitting here until lunch?”

“The doctor will come see you soon. And then patients usually work in the garden. I doubt they’ll force you to do it, though, so you can just enjoy the fresh air.” Duff stepped out of the door. “Take care, Tommy.”

[papermonkeyism]

sorry for being active

logical... i think I'm annoying you too much /especially with my bad English/, and if you don't want to answer, that'll be fine ^^` in any case, thanks for your attention! i'm probably overthinking this, but...

the last question was, what is Crippled (and the others for that matter) afraid of? I understand that all the hounds lived in a pretty terrible place, but what about simple, almost human things like darkness and loneliness? Surama seems quite fearless to me, despite her dislike of the dark, unlike her brother (okay, he's just quite active), and Iacar is reliving the past. of course, they worry about each other, I think, but... hey, admit it, who is afraid of thunderstorms? :)

sorrysorrysorry ^^`

English isn't my first language either (terveisiä Suomesta). It's just that I'm wary.

I do not currently live in a creative enough environment nor life situation where I can reasonably sacrifice several days out of my week into such a demanding creative work, alone, without burning out.

And every time I so much as casually mention Wurr online, there's usually at least one person who'll come and let me know how tragic it is that I've "decided" to "abandon" my "great story and characters". (Or, in one case, how irrelevant and pathetic I am as a failure of a person. Fuck that one, though.)

Like, I had a bit of a nervous breakdown because of health and livelihood issues back in last spring that I'm still occasionally dealing with (one's systolic blood pressure is definetely not supposed to stay over 190 for long), and I just don't want to be dealing with the people sending me obituaries for my comic on top of that right now.

Like, maybe, maybe, if I one day move closer to Tampere to have my Brainstorm Buddy in my reach regularly again. I miss having creative company.

But right now? I'm just tired.

[spectascopes]

Oh my goddd art from 2016 of a fic that i hadn't even uploaded at the time that i'm. s. still writing here and there. in 2024... melvin giraffe meme "why are you skinny" @ frisk

[skeletalheartattack]

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

2, 5, 10 & 18 for the writer ask game!! (These questions are *so much* fun, I couldn't choose 😂)

Hello friend, and thank you! They *are*, aren't they??

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

Oh, heavens. I'd do it somehow, but it would be a rough transition. When I'm 'in the zone' I can barely keep up with my brain using a keyboard, and writing by hand would be so slow in comparison! I'd have to learn shorthand, haha. I'd find a way, I guess, but it would definitely not be easy. (Oh, and as a bonus: I'd write in pen for sure. No way I'm writing more than a couple of sentences of notes with a pencil. Those are for drawing.)

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I'm afraid I have to disappoint you on this one because I'm not a superstitious person, and that extends to writing, unfortunately! I don't have any superstitions I can think of.

I do have habits! For example, contrary to most of the writer population, I generally don't write in the evenings / at night. I usually wake up early and have a job that requires me to think for a good part of the day, so my brain tends to feel very tired by the time evening comes around, and the words don't really word when I get like that. I might jot down an idea or two, maybe edit a few passages, but the actual bulk of my writing activity happens while the sun is out.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Oh, yes.

The term 'haunting' applied to writing is related to two different concepts for me. I've been haunted for ages by Moby Dick, in the sense that I began reading it and then left it on my nightstand to rot for years. I eventually read it all and loved it, but in the meantime it lay there menacingly, a perpetual reminder of my failure to finish it, like a heart beating under the floorboards.

Speaking of which: The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe is a good example of the other kind of haunting, the deeper kind. These tend to be stories that stay with me because they shock and unsettle me, due of their themes or their style (usually both). Other good examples are 1984 by George Orwell and A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (I barely even remember this last one, except for the fact that it really disturbed me when I read it). The most recent example is The Notebook Trilogy by Ágota Kristóf (please be very careful if you research this one, it deals with a lot of seriously disturbing themes).

I don't think I've ever been haunted by any of my writing, no. I like to think of my works as companions, rather than haunting presences. :)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

Hmm. This is hard to answer because I tend to forget about previous versions of my works fairly quickly 😂 I do remember a recent one, though!

The Barbara passage in i would have said impossible [...] gave me a lot of trouble while I was writing the fic. I knew I wanted to write something about Barbara from very early on; once I figured out where this fic would fall in the canon timeline, I rewatched some of S3, and the Barbara episode was just too interesting not to explore (not to mention it provided a perfect catalyst for the final confrontation between the three Girls). It was one of the first scenes I tried putting to paper, but I just... couldn't get it to work, no matter what! It simply refused to flow.

I eventually figured out that it wasn't working because I didn't know what I wanted to say with it. I knew by that point in the story Dorothy wasn't at her best, and I had a feeling she wanted to 'run away' from Blanche and Rose, but I didn't know why she wanted to run away (except for a very generic 'Blanche and Rose are coming on to her'), and so the scene was really bland and unfocused.

What helped, in the end, was properly writing the scene before! During my planning phase I decided that Dorothy was going to ask for Sophia's advice, at some point -- but I made the mistake of not figuring out where she'd end up after receiving said advice, so I didn't really know what was going through her mind during the Barbara scene! Once I wrote that scene and figured that out properly, her mental state was more clear to me, and everything fell into place. In retrospect, I learned quite the lesson from it! When a scene doesn't flow, it may be that the problem isn't with the scene itself, but with what comes before. :)

[spicyicymeloncat]

I don’t remember if I ever rlly elaborated on my potential Ninjago s12 but I’m listening to GRRRLS and it reminded me of it, so briefly here’s all the ideas I had for it (and are currently having for it because I am now coming up with stuff on the fly):

The focus on Jay would be forshadowed by the fact that Jay doesn’t get a resolution to what he does in s11. He seemingly feels bad about ignoring Zane’s dream and in general feels more of a disconnect to the group. This is subtle and he tries not to let it bother him. This is highlighted more at the start of the season, as they are investigating the mechanics hideout.

We would see that Jay gets transported as player 2. He arrives at the very core of prime empire, the tower, which also serves as menu screen. He’s greeted by Unagami, who offers to play games with him, an offer he takes due to being excited

I think on the ninja’s end it would mostly be the same. BUT Whilst Zane and Pixal can’t enter the game due to risk of their data getting scrambled (how that works I’ve decided is that, Prime Empire works by translating bio matter to digital but it can only do bio matter bc it knows how it works, and it doesn’t know how nindroids are made and therefore can’t translate them without risk of error), zane and pixal can set up some sort of communication system that allows them to contact the ninja. Essentially zane and pixal are video calling the ninja from their minds and over the course of the season they chip in with gaming tips (canonically zane and pixal are both gamers so)

The ninja end up meeting superstar rockin Jay, and it goes on as normal, although Okino is a little weirded out by him

In the just dance episode, Nya finds out on the dance floor that Jay is the sussus amogus imposter. Shock horror on the dance floor

It turns out that superstar rockin Jay was just an artificial construct being controlled by the real Jay who is still in the tower with Unagami. But recently Jay and Unagami had a real fight and that’s lead to Unagami taking control of superstar rockin Jay in an attempts to stop his friends’ progress

Not entirely sure how the superstar rockin Jay thing ends tho, all Ik is that I want Nya to have an “oh my god what happened to my boyfriend”/“wait a minute Jay would never say that”

There would be an episode detailing Jay’s pov, showing how he and Unagami became friends and started playing the games together after feeling similarly lonely, exploring Jay’s tendency to ignore his problems and how it’s resulting in him growing distant, before Jay realises he doesn’t want to give up on himself and he’s gonna try to reunite with his friends (probably after seeing how hard the ninja are trying to find him). Then Unagami reacts badly to the idea of being abandoned by Jay and they fight, ending with Jay falling through the walls and into the core of prime empire, in like this weird void of pure code.

I kinda also wanted to idk make more lava moments but that’s just me

I never really worked out what I wanted Libber (Jay’s mum) to do in this but she’s gonna be relevant

Like something something she’s been here, there’s an echo of her buried in the code. Maybe the game was based on her travels somehow. I kinda wanted Jay to be guided out of the code void by some sort of depiction of her

I kinda want Milton Dyer and Scott to have both somehow known Libber

Maybe libber really did abandon Jay. Maybe like Jay she also had issues that made her feel like she had to distance herself. Maybe there was a genuine reason and she was taken from him. Maybe the point of the season is that it’s hard to tell what happened in the past but that doesn’t stop you from carrying on in the future

Idk I just need there to be a more conscious parallel between jay and Unagami and themes of abandonment

There’s also some kind of theme of giving up not giving up seen with Scott, Okino and Blazey (racer 7), where they’re all encouraged to keep trying. I gotta do sometime with that idk…

Also the mechanic deserves to be cooler. Like can we make him more badass I want his villain resume to look so good that he actually qualifies as a Crystal council member

That’s all I had/have got for now but yeah! I do like most of the season I just think it has a lot more potential yknow

[galaxythreads]

Hello! I’ve liked your fics for a long time, and was wondering if you would write something with fem- presenting Loki? There are some gender-fluid Loki fics on ao3, but I Need More To Live. I would write one, but I wouldn’t ever finish it.

I really want Loki to join the avengers in 2012 so that the other stuff doesn’t happen. sometimes I want Loki and Natasha to make fun of the rest of the avengers.

Idk I just really like the idea that Loki and Natasha would be friends. Or Loki and Wanda. (Except for all of the aforementioned characters got done so dirty by MCU. Isn’t that like a trope? Kill off the girl so the guy has a motivation to defeat the bad guy? Like from Green Lantern or something?

And Loki and Wanda got rewritten.). Whatever. I’m PERFECTLY OKAY! *eye twitches*

That kind of turned into a rant. Sorry.

Here are more of my headcanons, because I’d rather dm someone on tumblr instead of actually making a post on my blog. I’m weird.

-Loki was friends with Tchaikovsky and Mozart and Shakespeare. Maybe even Paganini, or like Ada Lovelace. Or Albert Einstein. Basically a lot of historical figures and also musicians from the 1980s.

-Loki is an honorary gay, because he’s an alien and aliens don’t have human concepts of gender and sexuality. But also you saw that 🏳️‍🌈hand flip🏳️‍🌈 he did in the 1602 episode. I mean, he was just being so gay in that 1602 episode. It was beautiful.

-Loki is a sad little boi. 🥺🥺

-Loki is a good little boi who got did dirty by MCU and Odin. (🥺🥺)

-Loki isn’t always a boy.🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️(unfortunately no gender-fluid flag emojis so 💕🤍💜🖤💙)

-Loki knows all the languages.

-Loki would watch anime and Kdramas if HE WASN’T DEAD.

-Loki is a theater kid.

-Loki is cat

-Loki knows how to play ALL the instruments. He likes cello the best though. Also he has perfect pitch.

-Loki needs therapy. Like two blue whales worth of therapy.

-If Tony and Loki ever had a long conversation, they would figure out how to solve world hunger and climate change and overpopulation AND THEIR MOTHERS. (It doesn’t make sense but just roll with it)

-Loki is a Major Fucking Nerd About Everything.

-Loki likes calculus as a hobby.

-Loki is, (un?)fortunately, a British stereotype.

-Loki ships appledash and narusasu.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Bye, and thanks for letting me dump headcanons on you.

Hi! Thank you so much for sharing all of these with me, it's so fun to see other people's headcanons about Loki and their excitement about his character. I love discussing this blorbo and cracking him open like an onion to peal away layers of trauma and reveal the nerd beneath.

Lol, the amount of times I've thought about doing an MCU rewrite post a1 to fix everything is insane. If I did do this, I'd actually probably start at civil war, because personally, I feel like everything was (generally) actually okay and enjoyable until infinity war. Civil war is just a good place to kick around the fix-its because everything is such a mess.

As far as your request goes, it might surprise you, but you're actually NOT the first person to approach me about a genderfluid, fem-presenting Loki. More like the....4th? or maybe 5th? Idk. I've definitely been approached by multiple people over the years about this. Firstly, thank you for trusting me with your idea and your headcanons, I'm humbled and honored that you would approach me about this because you believed I would be able to write the story in a way that you would find meaningful and enjoyable <3

Second - I really just don't know. My first inclination is to say no, not because I'm not interested or don't care, but mostly because I'm so busy right now I really don't know when I'll be able to get to the story. Plus, I'm really not sure how to go about this. I'd need to figure out what direction I wanted to take the story, because Loki being genderfluid wouldn't change that much except their outward appearance. Loki + genderfluid + Natasha friendship is an amazing concept, but it's not a...plot, if that makes sense? "Fixing" a1 could be 50,000,000 separate things, and if it goes out as a fix-it for mcu, that would be an enormous project. Easily 200k-400k+, which would take me like...uh 1-3 years to write.

Loki being genderfluid IS something I've thought about just adding to my fics in general now (i'm really not sure, because I love cis male Loki, and I know it's canon that he's genderfluid, but I kind of disregard most things from the series anyway?) but Idk?

+ and this is just a personal one for me, but I don't know how to include Loki being genderfluid as a major part of the plot/story right now. Like, for example, I've been in the process of dumping all of my religious lgbtq+ trauma on peter parker in a (massive) one-shot that revolves around Peter learning to accept himself as being gay, but the point of the story is that Peter doesn't accept himself at first and the conclusion is when he does. (I don't know if I'm ever going to share or finish that fic by the way, so don't look for it) I don't know how to take the concept of this story, turn it into a fix-it for Avengers 1 with Natasha, and have a meaningful story about being genderfluid at the same time?

Like to me there's two different ways to go about lgbtq+ stories: a story about being gay that is intended to talk about lgbtq+ experiences and focus heavily on that, vs a story where the character is lgbtq+ and it's just part of their character and not something we spend a lot of time talking about because we don't need to. The story isn't about them being lgbtq+ specifically, it's about the character. Recently, a lot more media has started doing the latter, which is really, really nice because I don't feel like being lgbtq+ has to be justified every 20 lines.

The story I'm writing about Peter Parker is the former. It's about being gay. The entire story revolves around it. What I can tell from what you're saying is that you want something where Loki just IS genderfluid, but it's not something we spend a whole lot of time discussing because the story isn't ABOUT being genderfluid, it's about fixing mcu with genderfluid Loki as the main character, if I'm understanding this correctly? Which is fine and I absolutely support it because there is nothing wrong with writing genderfluid Loki and I wholeheartedly support those authors.

So i guess to shorten this - because this isn't just like a ~5-15k one-shot (which are about the only length of requests I can successfully complete right now), as respectfully as I can, I'm going to have to lovingly turn you down. I'm not saying no, I'll never write about genderfluid Loki, because I'm like 90% sure I will eventually, but I just don't know about a fix-it for MCU from the first Avengers. One suggestion I have is maybe, if you really really need to see this come to fruition, is to just write a bunch of one-shots that are interconnected based on each of your headcanons and then publish it as an interconnected series, not so much a full length novel like I would write. I can easily see this being a really enjoyable series. Best of luck

~galaxy <3

[barnbridges]

you know that autism feeling when you're fully locked in and feel you can do something after many many many years of not being able to feel it.

[aidanix]

looks at my AU blog

frowns

[anonymouspuzzler]

my friends i. my head is in the Soup lately would anyone like to send asks for me to answer